Sep 27 2011

Hadrian’s Wall – Day Five – a change of pace…

Just in case you were wondering, Day Four ended like this…

That’s right… In a fecking cowshed…

Our Hero thought he knew what was coming (thanks to the phone call he had received from his beloved (Lone) Support Angel back past the Roman Bridge) but this was way beyond anything his puny imagination could have conjured…

Oh well, nothing else for it, let’s just get all of our belonging up the stairs, get showered and make the most of it…

On the long, damp, cramped, aching journey from the “Salli” Inn to our digs Our Side-kick (The Matador – please note… this refer’s to his physique, his easy companionability and charm with the ladies and his no-nonsense approach towards the bovine population and not in any way to suggest that he is a serial torturer and slayer of bulls for the “entertainment” of tourists and “It’s our culture innit?!” diehards) had, through the gloom and lack of street-lighting, seen a sign for a chip shop… After teasing our taste buds discussing the possible choices available to us, it is decided The Matador and (Lone) Support Angel are to brave the hazards of the night once more and procure our supper (leaving our hero to wash his aching mess of a body and liberally imbibe and apply pain-killing pharmaceuticals in the hope of being able to move on the morrow)…

Despite driving (practically) back to our pick up point, the chip shop remains elusive and so our weary hunter gatherers return empty-handed… Only to be told by our hostess that the shop in question closes at 8.30 pm (if she had thought to mention this at 8.25 when our intrepid duo had first set out, our collective disappointment [and Orlando’s fuel consumption] would have been a lot less)

BTW if you are wondering who Orlando is, a full explanation can be found here

Despite the cold, smell, flies, lack of chips and absence of Triv, an evening of high hilarity is enjoyed by all (followed by a night of freezing, buzzing, pain-filled sleep enjoyed by none)

Our Hero and Side-kick awake to the scents of another Full English (thanks to (Lone) Support Angel rising early and cooking in an effort to get warm) and the days plans are made… One of which is the cancelling of another night in the Bunk House and returning to Our Side-kick’s abode with its reward of warmth and comfortable beds… And so, the car is reloaded with everything we can possibly fit into it and we are away… The Matador has decided that it is a matter of pride and completeness that he should finish the walk, while Our Hero and his fantastically amazing (Lone) Support Angel spend the day together exploring Carlisle… In what appears to Our Hero as an added penance Our Side-kick announces that he wishes to add the distance from Bowness-on-Solway to Carlisle onto his already tortuous journey back to Newtown.

In an almost perfect incidence of serendipity Our Side-kick is joined on the first leg of this trek by the three self made men of the middling sort that had been our overnight companions on our first day of The Wall… Leaving Our Side-kick to Shanks’ Pony the Old Marrieds leave with an almost unseemly haste (perhaps in the hope of getting away before The Matador comes to his senses) and head to Carlisle (and Costa’s)…

The Wardens Keep and entrance to the Castle.

Despite the use of a walking cane Our Hero still finds mobility something of a pain-filled fraction of what was achievable before The Wall but he is now with his lady-love and that in itself is enough to buoy his spirits…

The Leisurely exploration of Carlisle Castle and it’s environs is just what Our Hero needs to revive his aching muscles (despite spiral stairways and descents into the dungeons)…

To be surrounded by another period of our long and tumultuous history (this time the Jacobite Uprising and Carlisle’s role in it) is both enthralling and uplifting and Our History Mad Couple are content to wander the walls and halls with cameras ready and hands entwined…

Rightful place as ruler in the Wardens Keep Hall.

While their thoughts do turn occasionally the trials and tribulations of their walking companion, they are happy in each others company and this trip begins again to feel like a holiday…

After purchasing a brace of bottles filled with the heavenly mana that is mead our love-birds repair to Costa’s for the much-anticipated Cinnamon Capacinno and Hazelnut/Caramel Latte that had haunted dreams since arriving at the first bunk house…

Refuelled with caffeine and cake Our Hero assures (Lone) Support Angel that she shall see some of The Wall and so they embark on their own mini road trip to Birdoswald Fort…

Birdoswald and The Wall are every thing that (Lone) Support Angel had been expecting, both from her own imagination and the tales of bravery and derring-do brought back by Our Heroes…

It’s all there; the history, the worked stone, the mud, the penis carvings, the cow-shit, the story of The Wall (again) and the Gift Shop… Again Our Loving Couple (yes, I know that some of you find these constant Public Displays of Affection just a wee bit bile rising but you know what, My Blog My Rules so nyer!! :P) slowly meander among the exhibits and remnants of our Roman (Former) Overlords (probably driving the other visitors mad with their jokes and photos :D)… (Lone) Support Angel experiences a real bog for the first time (having mistaking the slightly damp ground of Vindolanda earlier in the week for same) though – despite putting on her new pink walking boots specially – not attempting to cross it… The weather is making a concession for a change and allowing us to play along the wall like the overgrown kids we are before ripping open the clouds and dumping about three billions of tonnes of H2O onto us just as we climb back into the car… It’s been a rewarding and charming day…

All that is left now is to make our way back to The Salvation (Salutation actually) Inn and await the arrival of our weary, foot-sore but proud companion… We arrive to a typical local’s welcome – no, not the Slaughtered Lamb variety – and soon settle in to while away the hours we know Our Side-kick will be…

As tradition (and bodily need) demand, we treat ourselves to a meal, unfortunately not in the restaurant side of the Inn not having known to book in advance at what proved to be an extremely popular Inn… If you ever get a chance get yourselves to The Salutation Inn in Irthington for one of the best meals you will ever experience (but please don’t tell everyone as we want to be able to get a seat when we go back :D)… And as our taste buds are caressed with flavours both familiar and exotic our wet, muddy, cheerful, angry, proud, exhausted, exuberant and bedraggled Side-kick struts limpingly into the bar looking for warm, dry clothes and a pint.

The best meal I have EVER had, at the Salutation Inn, Irthington (our final night, to be spent at Dom's house).

It’s been a hard week. Muscles and tendons are overworked and tired. Emotions have been stretched almost beyond breaking point. Memories have been made and in some cases scabbed over already… Our Hero and his companions have (sort of) fulfilled a life-long ambition but now they are ready to return to the real world… well they will be after a night at Dom’s with it’s real beds and small ginger feline… and another day off on Monday to recover fully…

Ok, there you go… That’s it. I hope you have enjoyed these selected recollections of Our Super Trio’s trip along The Wall. Oh IBITS how cheesy did that sound?! Ok, whatever… We did The Wall, one did further, one did it back and forth in a car and one… well let’s just say… Next Time it’s Offa’s Dyke (but with a bit more prep ;})

As always if you would like to see Our Side-kick’s memories of the event’s related for your delectation then go: here.

Actually, before you go I would just like to say a HUGE thank you to Dom and Tina for joining and supporting me in this mad venture… I really could not have done it without you both… With all its ups and downs (in more ways than one) and its laughter and pain, I had a fantastic time… so Thank You again

P.S. I meant it about Offa’s Dyke you know… Take Note Entertainment Officer and Co-Pilot 😀

Sep 24 2011

Hadrian’s Wall – Day Four – heads down and just keep going…

Before we begin this fascinating foray into Day Four (and I do hope you have been saying that in your best “Big Brother” stylee :}) I would like to apologise… I didn’t actually make any notes for Day Four… The reasons for this are many and varied but I am sure that when you get to the end of this fascinating and remarkably erudite episode you will understand why….

Ok, let’s get this over with… Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you: Day Four…

Day Four began much like each of the others on The Wall… With a soft whimpering as Our Hero tries to find a dignified way to exit a top bunk with a knee that will not take his weight and a general feeling of fatigue that would’ve felled a lesser man…

That’s right, gentle reader, Our Hero was feeling his age this grey and murky morning… “Oh how can it be?” I hear you cry… “How can this perfect specimen of earlobe and baby toes be feeling so bad?” I know, my darlings, I know… but we’ve got to face it, I am getting a few months past thirty now and even us paragons of laziness can only hold out so long… But despair not, Our Hero has still got “it” in him… Praise Him…

Ok so, breakfast was a little different this morning, not only were we trying gallantly to work our way through a cold full English each (Our hostess explaining all the while that she had forgotten one of our breakfasts yesterday, having left it in the oven… Our Hero nods amiably as he tries to masticate through what he firmly believes to be that self-same breakfast) but between each mouth full we are all engaged in the intricate dance that was readying our lunches and Tea for the day, ensuring we have back-packs and tissues whilst trying to pack up all of our belongings (keeping a ready eye out for that elusive charger), load the car, clean the common room and pay the bill… All in less than half the time it has taken us to do less than half of the things we are doing on previous days… It’s all change today folks, for after dropping Our Hero and his …. Oh com’n man, you gotta though’ of a name by now righ’?… I’ve been trying… I really have… and the only one that has come to mind is… The Matador.

Yeah, That works. That conjures up images of Strong, Virile young men with hundreds of drooling admirers, welcomed in every tavern, dreamed of by maidens and matrons alike, looks good is skin-tight pink pants, able to face certain death in the face, face to face so to speak, with a sneer and twist of moustache…

Yeah, yeah ok, let’s get back to it yeah? {Pink Pants? Ed.} Yeah, alright… get over it yeah? Ok… So… er… yeah… Ohyeah, so today the Magical Mystery Trio are upping sticks and setting up their bivouac at the other end of The Wall… That’s right folks, today we are going for it, push on to the end…

At least, I think that’s the plan… We did all discuss it last night, but discussions that are had post dinner look a bit different pre breakfast… I know that at the time of discussion we were all stood in clouds of petrol vapour, having a quick hippy moment and measuring distances out on an old map with our fingers… (I did mention I am a complete novice at this walking in the countryside thing didn’t I?) I know that I for one was in that state of being only achievable whilst experiencing a full stomach, your hair still damp from a warm and welcoming shower and an evening in good company… Yesterday had been hard going for all of us… Lack of Prep was most definitely making its neglect felt on Our Hero and I’m sure that The Matador was feeling more than he was letting on but like all the best Side-kicks (The Tick, Night-Owl, Batman, Tech-Knight, Sgt Colon, Dan Dare, Asterix.. You get what I mean) he was probably holding it all stoically inside so as not to embarrass Our Hero… I know that our (Lone) Angel was feeling the absence of Our Entertainments Officer and Our Co-Pilot quite deeply… And truth to tell, So was Our Hero… Although considering the terrain our Diabolic Duo had been traversing over the past few days we wouldn’t have been able to have our entertainments officer along without a fifteen man medical team on constant stand-by and having installed stair-lifts on some of the trickier slopes…

And sorely as her presence was missed during our various Bovine encounters (no Brown 833 would’ve stood in her way, not with the whole herd behind him) we all knew that Our Co-Pilot was better off where she was and not rescuing grown men from amorous and/or belligerent Bovines 🙂 ❤

Please bear (bare? well maybe… it depends on who’s asking really) with me… This one is not as easy to write as previous instalments…. I’ll tell you what… Have a look at a nice picture for a few seconds while I make Tea and collect my thoughts… BRB…

Ok so here we go… Did you like that picture by the way? Takes a good photo does our Dom (even when he’s not supposed to :)) So yeah, where were we? Yeah, so… so today we started (as we had done on the other days) at the point where we had stopped the evening previous… This time at the Roman Army Museum, a place that left us agog, agape and amazed…

In approximately 2 hours we have taken a “3D” flight over the length of the wall, Been recruited into the Roman Army – though I did have my fingers crossed when we took the oath, Relaxed with an Auxiliary unit, and seen some of the rarest Roman finds anywhere in the world… and negotiated the smallest Gents door outside of Barbie’s Night Club… But much as Our Hero’s body complains, we have to be back on The Wall. It’s about one pm and Carlisle is a Long way off yet….

The low cloud cover and constant drizzle are a match to Our Hero’s mood as he returns to the Hadrian’s Wall Path…

Heavy of heart and limb is Our Hero on this day, dear reader… He know’s the plan… he know’s this was all his idea… he know’s that to fail would eat at him more than a stoner with a crate of Jaffa Cakes… But. But he also knows that to actually make it to Carlisle in his present state was practically impossible.

Also playing on his mind is that underneath all the brilliantness, Beyond-the-Callness and general all-round amzingness of (Lone) Support Angel, the days spent alone and tired are getting to her. This vacation has not turned out as planned and Our Hero can feel some cracks beginning to form…

The Wall is beside us almost constantly again but this time it just passes in a blur… Oh how I wish I could say from the speed we were covering the trail but it was more the desire to get to the end… Heads down, feet pumping we pushed on… Snatching photos in those brief moments when we stopped for breath or passed a mile marker or something other than The Wall caught our attention… Today there would be no messing about with Bulls, we were to push on through them and woe betide any that did not stand aside… Though conversation was intermittent, it wasn’t so absent as to lower our morale to politician levels of blame-throwing… Actually dearest reader, maybe you could answer me a question (and please don’t tell me to google it because then I would know and you would not and that is just knowledge wasted), so can you tell me – If a Cow is Bovine and a Sheep is Ovine, What is a Goat?

Ok, so that was one of the questions raised on this day of questions and contradictions… Another was: How could we cross the same railway track twice when we have both been going in a fairly straight path? Or how about; What was it about our Victorian forebears that made them think being cold, damp and in the middle of nowhere was a good basis for where to build a Spa?

This is not to say that The Wall cannot still throw up some surprises… At Poltross Burn Mile Castle 48 we find the last few original in-situ steps in any Castle or Fort along the wall – also still visible is the bottom of the oven upon which the troops stationed there would’ve cooked their meals…

As well as some sections that still stand taller than Our Heroes…

No, please don't start nibbling there...

A few sheep that didn’t soil themselves as soon as they saw us but were actually quite friendly…

The chance to walk through not one but two private gardens (which must be a real Joy during the summer months)…

and as if that wasn’t enough to slow us down and keep us engaged with the experience we found this…

The remnants of the Roman Bridge over the River Irthing… A sight that was both awe-inspiring and a little sphincter puckering… I say that because the notice board that accompanied this 18 centuries old structure informed us that we would be able to follow this section of The Wall/Bridge down to the water’s edge but that we would then have to double back as the Bridge had collapsed many years ago and never been replaced.. well all I can say, the people who write these things should go out and inspect their sites occasionally… Because just around the corner was this…

Put in place in 1999 to celebrate something or other….

I think that by this point the pace of today and the trials of the last few were really beginning to tell upon both of us…

Hills and fields, Bullocks and Bogs, Rain and exhaustion were beginning to lose their appeal…

Even the delicious Tea (and sneakily eaten James’ Cake ™) at Birdowald Fort only revived us enough to reach the last vestiges of the visible Wall just a mile or two down the road at Banks East turret 52…

Having received the call he had been dreading way back before the river, Our Hero had made his decision… Today would be his last day Walking the Wall… Whether the Dynamic Duo reached Carlisle or not… I would not be doing another step along it after we finish tonight… It was not an easy decision to make and telling The Matador almost took more strength than Our Hero felt he had in him but His Lady Love had hit her own wall and needed him to help get her over it…

Much as he berated himself for it, feeling the growing conviction that he had wimped out, let his friend down and generally made a mess out of the whole thing, Our Hero knew he had made the right choice… Even as the physical distance between the two increased (so that they were no longer two compadre side by side against the Wall but were more lowly foot soldier tramping after his staff Sargeant) the knowledge that tomorrow would not be like today both relieved and hurt…

With the path now on tarmac almost as much as across grass, blisters that had been silent for most of the past two days again began to make themselves known… As a CityBoy I never thought I’d hear myself say it but I actually began to physically dislike tarmac… It’s hard and unforgiving, it hints at towns and crossings, buildings and noise, glimpses of sky and ringing phones… These roads told us (whether they passed country cottages or hedgerows) that soon our journey would be at an end… Oh How I hated that tarmac!!!

Climbing the last hill into Newtown was the hardest stretch of the entire four days… As the heavens opened and the gloom of a wet September evening settled in Our Heroes raised our noses to the wind and tried catching a hint of the brewers art… Alas we were to be denied the pleasures of the tap-room while still reasonably dry enough to enjoy to its fullest extent… A passing local kindly informs us that a hostelry is to be had but that it is about a mile and a half out of our way… Down the hill and turn right… And as we stand there beside the way marker that points across the fields, promising more fields, bogs, tarmac, stiles, cows and aching muscles before finally reaching Carlisle – our clothes becoming nothing more than clammy and uncomfortable extra weight I feel an even bigger heal than I have for the past few hours when I tell my stalwart and seemingly indefatigable companion that I would rather take the certainly of the pub down the hill over the possibility of one in the next village over… I am done. Finished. I don’t know how far away Carlisle is – the last sign-post I’d seen had said 12 miles but that could’ve been ten miles back or just two hundred yards… I just didn’t know, but in truth it didn’t matter… Just down that hill was a pub and all that entailed… All I had to do was make it down that hill without covering at least half its length on my face…

See Our Heroes shivering under the smokers awning outside the Salutation Inn, trying to stave off the worst of the horizontal rain by hunching shoulders and cursing. It’s twenty past five on a Friday night and the pub is locked up tighter than a crusader’s virginal sister… But what’s this? A pretty lady pulling into the car park… Dashing from her car to the door, miming opening up… and as the clock strikes half past we squelch dejectedly into the bar…

Time to call Tina… and arrange what’s going to happen tomorrow…

Ok, that’s it… That’s all you are getting for now… I know we’ve got to finish but I just can’t right now… I will write the final part… if not tomorrow then the day after…

As always, if you wish to relive this journey through the eyes of our Side-kick The Matador then please click:…er...Here.

Sep 21 2011

Hadrian’s Wall – In the footsteps of an unprepared novice

It’s Monday morning… 9.40 am or thereabouts… Our intrepid explorer and his long-suffering but immensely supportive wife are making the final preparations for their first visit to The Wall (as it has become known over the past few months, during the “planning” stages)… Nerves are frayed and emotions running high as the final checks are made…

“Phone and chargers?” – Check!

“Walking boots?” – Check!

“Book?” – Check!

“Second Book, for when you’ve finished the first?” – Check!

“Emergency Flare, for when you get stuck on The Wall and need rescuing?” – Cheek!

“Car keys?” – Check!

And so, grabbing the infamous hat as we go through the door, we are off. A full ten minutes or so before the scheduled departure time… Things are looking good 🙂

But Wait!

What’s this? An accident on the M1? Closing a huge chunk of our route to Dom’s? Nooooo, this can’t be happening…

After losing nearly two hours due to diversions, road-works and unplanned comfort breaks we arrive at the home of Our Hero’s Trusted Side-kick Dom with just enough time for a caffeine and nicotine top-up before loading Dom and his gear (including a much appreciated crate of beer) in the car and back onto the road… Straight into the tail-end of the hurricane that has been visiting Northern Britain over the past few days… Beware High Winds!! And Bad Drivers!!!!

With our hero at the wheel (and the speed camera warnings on the sat-nav giving plenty of warning) we make good time to our home for the next four days… Greencarts Bunkhouse, Humshaugh

: (c) Tina Price-Johnson 12/09/2011

Having explored the bunk house and chosen the smaller of the two rooms available we are faced with the news that we will be sharing our digs for the night with another couple of wall walkers (and their two dogs, Merlin and Skye)… Much as we miss having the company of our Entertainments Officer and Co-Pilot at least now these two nice people don’t have to spend the storm filled night sleeping under a hedgerow.

And so we settle in… and that’s when the “Oh Shit, I forgot…” conversation begins :/… Having covered the camera question that had arisen in the car we move onto Dom (walking shoes…) and our hero (Brand new waterproof coat bought especially). This trip is getting off to a great start… Time to pull out the Triv and the beer to fill the hours before bed (if our side-kick can stop trying to get it on with Merlin :D)

Our first day on the wall (henceforth known as: DAY ONE) begins with breakfast confusion and last-minute clothing issues (Thanks Dom for the loan of the coat).

Despite initial footwear/pedal conflict our hero’s long-suffering wife soon slips easily into the role of (Lone) Support Staff and Taxi Driver, taking our Intrepid Adventurers along the arrow straight Roman Road (B6318) to their starting point at Heddon on the Wall. Cue endless round of photos of the Decrepid Duo… and with the last good luck kiss still dusting his lips, Our Hero girds his loins, stiffens his upper lip, splices his main brace and strides forth on his Great Trek. Chollerford here we come… But first, let’s just pop into that Spar to grab a pack of ciggies…

I promised my trusty side-kick that I wouldn’t mention the taking a wrong turn straight off so please skip over this sentence.

Pretty soon we are back on track…

: Proof we were there (c)simon price-johnson 14.9.11

and the ground is flying by beneath the feet of Our Heroes. Getting off the tarmac after about half a mile we find ourselves walking with silly grins on our faces into the wilds of Northumberland and our first Roman Archeological Site, Vindobona

: (c) Dom Kingsmill-Stocker 13/09/11

Undaunted by our first “Roman Encounter” we push on with renewed vigour… There WILL BE Wall!!! With the fields and earthworks passing with an unexpected swiftness we find ourselves outside the eclecticly decorated and quirky Robin Hood (don’t ask) Pub at about 1pm. How felicitous 🙂 Sitting down with a pint for our stalwart companion and a brand named diet cola product for our virtuous hero we await our luncheon whilst watching the heavens open outside… one of the few times I’ve not minded waiting over half an hour for a sandwich…

Back on the path after about an hour we soon find ourselves (after a minor diversion involving a Rolls Royce Silver Cloud and more unidentifiable, to us anyway, earthworks) going through our first stretch of forest – some may call it a copse or (as the sign claims) a plantation but I’m a city boy and to me it’s a forest. Feeling revived from our short tea-break surrounded by the pines and ferns we brave the increasingly challenging wind and precipitation to push on to Plain Trees and our first chance to actually touch The Wall.

: If this is all there is, I’m going home

Time for another tea-break 🙂 Our quiet smoko is rudely interrupted by the sound of car horns. Looking back towards the road we are greeted with the sight of a Winnebago holding up traffic so the passenger can lean out of their window to photograph this 30 foot (or was it 30 metres?) length of wall (and quite inadvertently Our Aching Heroes having a real hippy moment). Thankfully for our inner calm the minor traffic jam soon moves off. And so do we.

I don’t know if this is a deliberate act by the locals designed to keep us walkers on tenterhooks but this is the last section of wall our heroes see today. Not that we are disheartened. The rest of the walk is quite charming. If one can ignore the increasing number of bogs of mud, faeces, water and urine at every gate, style and ladder. Yes, Ok so we all know it’s only Bovine and Ovine but that doesn’t stop the sinking feeling that enters your stomach as your foot slips beneath the crust of a green bit and the gloupy suckiness tries to enter your footwear. At least that’s the impression Our Hero got whenever his Trusty Side-kick looked upon yet another fan of concentrated country-side on each side of a crossing point between fields.

: (c) Dom Kingsmill-stocker15/09/11

Was our hero down-hearted? Did he feel disenchanted with this adventure? Were his spirits plummeting like a fairy with flaming wings? Was he aching in bone and muscle? Well yeah, particularly the last bit. But as with countless other Wall Walkers before him, he reset his hat…

Just as an aside, for those that are interested in these things (and I know a lot of you are). In the constant battle between Our Hero and Mother Natures playful and Quixotic offspring, the wind, with regards the infamous hat and how many times said wind could flip it away from my noble brow before I could catch it. The wind won 7-3. But not once did it land in anything more toxic than the rain wet grass…

And now back to the narrative…

As dusk approached and we walk across fields over-arched by perfect rainbows (don’t believe me? I have photos… well I don’t because my camera is shite, but Dom does), we spy ahead of us that the path is leading us back, once again, to tarmac. It must be near here that we will lay down our heavy backpacks (strangely heavy considering we’ve drunks all three flasks of tea). But no, the walk has one last trick up it’s sleeve. One that Our Hero is quite glad it played. Our intrepid Duo end the day walking through a bower fit for a fairy banquet…. {Hold up, what’s with the old wax lyrical?. Ed}

: (c) simon price-johnson 14.9.11

And there at the bottom of the hill… well actually after catching a glimpse of the sign of the village of Wall, over another hill and around a few bends… we see it. The bridge over the river and Chollerford. Perhaps more importantly, just the other side of the bridge, The George Hotel. With the kind of non-verbal communication often exhibited by those engaged on this type of exercise, our adventurers decide this is their destination. It’s six pm, we’ve been on our feet since about 11am and we are feeling just a little proud of ourselves for covering about twelve (more like thirteen) miles… Just a mile or so to go…

See our Rugged Heroes enter the George Hotel (average age of resident 106), ragged, sweaty, under-dressed and just a tad ripe to be greeted with a warm smile and directions to the cocktail bar. As our hero sits and enjoys his fizzy black sugar-free soft drink, and his robust side-kick takes a man-sized swallow of his sample of the local brewers best, the following conversation ensues:

Our Hero: This it then? Are we calling it a day?

Side-kick: Yeah, I think so…

Hero: Shall I give Tina a bell and get her to come pick us up?

Side-kick: Yeah, I would…

And with such erudite proposal and assent are our plans layed. Seconds later, after the call to our support team is made, we sit back and wonder if we need to take out a mortgage to get another round in… Our taxi arrives before a decision needs to be made…

On our return to our digs we are reminded by our Angelic driver that we have another group of travellers sharing the bunk-house this night. We had been warned earlier in the day through the miracle that is modern technology but it is only now, with our aching bodies yearning for a refreshing shower and sustenance that it sinks in. Steve, Steve and Neil(?) turn out to be three slightly older self-made men of the middling sort. And the scene is set for an evening of bad jokes,reminising of the day (and distance covered) and towards the close of the day a foray into politics. Our Hero and his surprisingly still supportive wife, having spent the evening admiring each other photos and enjoying Dom’s delicious SpagBol beat a hasty retreat as the question of private sector versus public sector pensions raises it’s many heads…

Another night spent separated by the cruel fate of bunk-beds (No Dr, they are NOT fun!) letting sleep heal as best it can.

So ends our first installment. Stay tuned for more adventures to come as we move onto days two and three where there shall be some of this: “boggy bogs and steepy steep bits, gangland cows and horny sheep.” and a bit of this: “[…] a distinct lack of respect for their bipedal masters.
Nor did I (according to Dom) show much for the wall. […] Always said I was a Celt at heart.”

P.S. The photos used in this narrative are all authentic images of our journey along The Wall, though some of them are being used out of chronological order. This is purely for illustrative purposes and are in no way a demonstration of my bad memory.

Or you could try this… http://roterbaron.wordpress.com/2011/09/20/ for the adventure as seen through the eyes of my stalwart (and very much-needed and appreciated) Side-kick.

In the words of Nevyn

Words, thoughts, ideas… Let's hope I have some…

Category Hadrian’s Wall

Hadrian’s Wall – Day Five – a change of pace…

Hadrian’s Wall – Day Four – heads down and just keep going…

Hadrian’s Wall – In the footsteps of an unprepared novice