Northumberland - Hadrian's Wall - Part 3

[Part 3 of my Hadrian's Wall series. Comes with video commentary like the previous 2 posts, and a bit wobbly.]

From Housesteads, the proper hike begins! After getting off the walls, I followed Hadrian’s Wall itself westwards in the general direction of Carlisle. Eastwards, I could see remnants of the wall, but I wasn’t exactly on planning on walking back towards Newcastle just yet. Nay, the row of trees growing along the wall, forming a giant’s hedge, beckoned.

'Keep off the Wall.' Hadrian's Wall. Sure.

For 100m westwards, this stretch of wall had a lot of visitors. Some were walking along the Wall, some were trying to figure out if the hedge was part of the Wall, others got in the ditch that formed part of the Wall’s defences, making for quite the scene of ‘are we in the right spot’ for all concerned.

Me? I was content with walking along the stretch, until I encountered that perfect image: a wooden fence advising people against walking on the Wall itself, as the trees framed that iconic image of the Wall, stretching as far as the eye could see, standing defiantly on the ridge as if it just happened to grow out of it.

Then it struck me: as I looked out, I saw nothing but open fields and grassland, with that single patch of forest behind me being the only vegetation that stood taller than 1 foot.  This was vast open country, that iconic image of rural England. This is that rus which so inspired the Garden City movement. This is what happens when you chop down all the trees for wood and then decide the now bald land would be best for sheep and cows.

Housesteads/Verovicum and Cuddy's Crags in far background

So I set off, GPS map in hand, out towards the (direction of) sunset, leaving the crowd behind me. Occasionally, while hiking up and down the rolling hills, I would glance northwards, towards what was once the border not between two cultures and two empires, but between what was perceived as the civilized and uncivilized worlds. Standing on the Roman side, I could only imagine what a legionary from Tuscany would have thought of this weather. What would he have written home about?

“Dear mummy, the weather is dreary,” I imagined him writing. “The barbarians seem to have a fondness for the colour blue-grey. Maybe because all we see every day, especially in winter, are multiple shades of grey. Their woad is everywhere.” He would then look out his window at the occasional Pict trader, trading haggis for Iberico ham, and a sudden longing for home came over. “Please send garum. The food here is bland. ”

What amazed me while walking along the Wall is how much actually survived the ravages of time, multiple empires, battles and the humble cottage dweller. In some sites, stones from ruins would be repurposed: something practical to do at that time, considering you are more concerned with your own well-being than the legacy left behind. It’s not as if those gone by would miss a stone wall or two.

The steep Hotbank Crags and the Wall that sticks to it.

Large stretches stand proud, and not in the manner of a single line. No, this was large chunks of it, double height at times, wide enough to theoretically race a horse on in others. Granted, you did have grass and other vegetation growing out of it, but for a Wall which was minimally maintained for centuries, the fact that it could withstand the ravages of sun, rain, wind and the untamed North is amazing.

Occasionally, I would bump in to other fellow travellers and hikers. We wouldn’t say much, apart from a ‘G’day’ or a ‘hello’ coupled with a nod, as most of the time, we were walking in the opposite direction. Once in a while, I would see a group of three, or a pair, but on the whole, I would see fellow solo hikers.

Hadrian's Wall: goes on and on and on, and seems quite well preserved

Hiking is a good sport for a generally reserved person like me. Could I do team sports? Maybe, but I work best in individual sports, like running or mental gymnastics while contemplating the economics of the most destructive summer blockbuster. Here, out in the open, I could gather my thoughts and let my imagination run wild. Here, amidst the vast open fields, clear blue skies and countryside dripping with centuries of rich history and pitched battles, I could partake in that rare luxury of inner contemplation and focus, especially when we are now constantly bombarded with instant gratification and global communication on demand.

Dear God, I’m starting to sound like a potential zen hermit now.

Back to wannabe archaeologist. Along sections of the wall, I would encounter small holes cut in the bottom. Of course, I was curious as to what they were meant for. Of course, the online guides I had didn’t explain the ‘why’ apart from the ‘it’s there’ of it all. But one thing I like about my mini guide was the ‘at Mile X, look out for Y!’ And it was on the saddle after a steep descent that I found the view.

Now, the good thing about all those tourism promotion pictures is that it hints at what’s ahead, and even better, hints at what pictures you should take and then post in your occasional round of ‘guess where I am’ caption-less postings on Facebook, annoying half your friends and letting the other half take random stabs in the dark as to your exact location.

One of those tourism promotion pictures was that of a big chunk of green along a crag, much like the one I walked through from Housesetads. This was ‘Hotbank Crags,’ and as name says, it is a crag and perhaps, taking inspiration from the Hot Gates, it was a steep one, where you could easily funnel enemies through defensive lines. Upon reaching it, I noticed large sections had Wall. Some sections 

were steep, and yet they had wall. Roman engineering and ingenuity at its finest.

Hadrian's Wall postcard view, with Wall and Crag Lough: good tourism promo?

After a few sections of relatively steep ascents and descents, I caught a glimpse of a familiar image: a crag on one end, with the Wall snaking above it, hugging the shore of a lake. Since this was close to noon, I thought it prudent to make that a quick pit stop. As much as I could go on and on ascending and descending relatively steep slopes like a mountain goat, I do need moments to savour in the beauty.

So, while descending Hotbank Crags and joining up with another footpath, clearly marked on mymap as ‘Military Way,’ I saw on the map, and my guide, ‘Milecastle 38.’ Now, there is not much here, apart from a convenient narrow pass as an effective check-point, and another path which leads down to the lake below. Of course, I could walk along the lake and in the shade of the forest, but where is the fun in that?

Crag Lough, and parts of Milecastle 38 (I think)

Instead, I ascended yet another steep climb. It really does make you appreciate the ingenuity, determination and sheer scale of this endeavor. How on earth did they manage to build a great wall, up north, with this terrain. Now, I have not been to the Great Wall of China, and undoubtedly, that is more impressive, but considering that this was built more than 1,200 years prior, this wall is quite the achievement which could match if not surpass that wall.

[Note: while yes, the Great Wall of China has sections predating Hadrian’s Wall, with the Qin Wall being built in 220 BC, those are mostly earth-based, while the famous masonry sections you see in postcards of China were built during the Ming Period in the 14^th century. Regardless, this is what unquestioned authority can do: it can make you do ridiculous stuff, but at a social cost?]

While climbing, I saw two blokes briskly making their way doen, perhaps trail running? They had their Camelbaks on, which I regret not bringing with me. They came prepared. Upwards, I passed another group who were leisurely making their way up. I could understand why: it was nice and cool here under the foliage. An idea came up: maybe I’ll trail run and hike some sections later.

Crag Lough, and the extra defence called 'cliff'

And soon enough, I was at the ridge. Walking along, I could see why the Romans didn’t bother which much of a Wall: the ridge itself is a sheer vertical drop, with jagged limestone and sharp edges, enough to deter all but the brave, or insane, who have a knack for rock-climbing.

With a few other hikers also on the ridge, I saw a few groups huddling around enjoying the view, while setting out a small picnic. I overheard a group of fit business-types talking business while hiking. I saw an older group who sat down, sandwiches on the ready looking northwards while enjoying each other’s company. I saw a few lone walkers with their dogs, hiking along the ridge, with some making conversation with other lone dog walkers.

So I decided to join in, in unison yet separate. I picked a spot, with a nice view of the north, perched slightly precariously along the cliff, with the jagged ridges and raw weather-beaten rocks below, the clear blue of the lough below mirroring the clear sky above. A perfect spot for lunch before I continue on my journey, if you consider lunch a bottle of sparkling water, a leftover pie and a bar of chocolate.

Crag Lough, sections of the Wall, Cuddy's Crag and fellow hikers

I can easily imagine this being a perfect stop for my imaginary senator from Rome, with his slave pouring him a cup of wine, another preparing a sandwich, while his learned Greek recites to him the deeds of Romans who built this; as he absent-mindedly observes the edge of the civilized world, while a few solders off-duty either cool off down below, or sing bawdy songs on the other end of the ridge.

I used the 'Walking in Hadrian's Wall Country' as my guide, which you can get on nationaltrail.co.uk/hadrians-wall-path/leaflets in pdf format: useful when you bring gadgets instead of going old school with paper.

Northumberland - Hadrian's Wall - Part 2

[Part 2 of my Hadrian's Wall series. Comes with video commentary like the previous post, if you are curious what I sound like babbling away.]

Last, we were at Vindolanda, walking instead of taking the bus to Housesteads like any other sane person. It was supposed to be a 20 minute bus ride to the famous site, the postcard perfect view of the fort and stretch of Hadrian’s Wall; the view that functions as their tourism promo. Instead, I decided to walk the almost 5 km to the site, out in the spring sun and along the green pastures of the quaint English countryside.

Bardon Mills to Vindolanda/Chesterholm

Vindolanda/Chesterholm to Housesteads

And the elevation changes quite a bit

Walking past fields and sheep, pastures and cottages, I could only imagine how a Romano-British settler would have lived out here. Quiet country roads, nary a car in sight, and even less in people. If you like your peace, quiet, solitude and space for contemplation, this is your hike. Out here in all its glory: quaint rustic scenes, fresh from a Constable painting.

Hiking up and down the hills, one would occasionally bump on to old Roman sites. I did so *some* research on this subject, so I was aware of the general military defensive architecture of the Romans, from the walls to the dykes to the vallum. Once in a while, you would look around, and then your map, and then a name would suddenly pop up, making you go ‘OH!’

Pasture and the occasional public footpath marker

One of my favourite is the ‘Military Road,’ so proclaimed on my GPS map. Naturally, I was curious. Is this Roman? Well, partly yes, partly no. Some parts were the actual Roman military road, others, and a big chunk of the present, was the military road commissioned by General Wade, who famously went against the Scots during the Jacobite uprising.

Along this stretch of the military road, just above on a hill, I could see Housesteads, or to use its original Latin name Vercovicium (annoying as it is also known as Borcovicus, Borcovicium and Verlution) , just slightly obscured. At least I assumed it is the site. I just saw another cottage on what looked like a private dwelling. So, following the well-marked trail, and occasionally harassing sheep and ducks by walking really fast behind them as if I was about to sheer them or get a golden goose from a duck, I trotted along towards Military Road and the fort beyond.

Rolling countryside between Vindlanda and Housesteads

Now, there is some history to this aptly named road. The foundations of one empire tend to be made from another, much like how the ruins of Carthage built Rome’s imperial might. In true imperial form, and as unwitting(?) heirs to Rome, England, under General Wade and the Hannoverian monarchs, decided, in their quest to rid themselves of the troublesome Scottish separatists, to build the aforementioned military road. Holding up the might of Imperial Rome on a grand pedestal for reference, they quite literally built the foundations of Great Britain on the very foundations of the Wall itself. Sections of the Wall were spared, but along a major part of its course, Military Road follows the Wall, which naturally led to the stones of the Wall being used as road foundations [glimpses in the accompanying video commentary].

So, up a hill I went, past the cottage and *poof* just beyond the crest was the site of Housesteads / Vercovicium, the fort built in AD 124, and thus I have arrived at checkpoint 2. In need of a drink and a treat, I went in to the cottage-cum-giftshop-cum-exhibition space and got myself the entrance ticket, a soda, a bottle of water, some chocolate and an ice cream. Yes, it was hot. I was walking, if you remember, unlike the others here who either got shipped in by bus or car. Also, no check-point would be complete without a ‘relic,’ so I bought a book on what travellers in Imperial Rome would expect to encounter during their adventures.

The fort of Vercovicium itself sloped southwards, with the main towers and walls on the crest of the ridge, proudly demarking the very edge of civilization. Compared to Vindolanda, there was not a hive of archaeological or academic activity; rather it was filled with tourists touring the walls, walking through what could be mistaken for as a stone garden maze. Of course, this was before I tried to get in to the fort.

On the wall of Housetseads/Vercovicum Fort: Civilized world to the right, uncivilized world to the left

See, walking along the fort’s wall, I missed the ‘main door’ to the site-proper. Following Hadrian’s Wall Path, I missed it altogether, reaching the Wall and a small patch of forest that doubled as a quadruple-height hedge instead of entering the fort. Instead of walking back down the hill and up again, I took a shortcut, while squeezing my body through a ‘crack’ in the wall: all very ‘dignified.’

There I was, squeezed past a 2,000 year old wall on my hands and feet like Nathan Drake-Lara Croft. It wasn’t that high to begin with: maybe 1.5 meters at most? I tried to not make my entrance too obvious by making as if I was getting comfortable sitting on it, looking north towards what was at one point in time, the great land of the uncivilized, now known as parts of the Dukedom of Northumberland and the Kingdom of Scotland.

To the left and right, I saw the Wall, in her relic yet imposing glory, perched on the ridge, demarking the frontier of Empire, the washed from the unwashed. It was clear why this site was chosen. Militarily, it was advantageous. Perched on the hills, it formed a natural barrier. It was, in every sense of the word, magnificent. How did they build this on this site with the elements bombarding them, and the infamously treacherous English weather ever looming, is a feat worthy of celebrating.

It was then that it struck me: I finally understood what George R. R. Martin kept harping on about as his inspiration for the Wall of Game of Thrones. Here I was, sitting on a major achievement of human engineering, on the only stone wall on the fringe of the Roman Empire. There I was, in spring, wearing shorts, t-shirt and sunnies, momentarily transported mentally, to the mind of that bored Roman senator who went to pay a courtesy call to his friend the governor of Britannia and was left to his own devices as his mate had to deal with issues in Anglesey.

No caption needed.

“What if,” I thought, “what if I was here when this was a proper wall? What would the legionaries tell me? What stories would the centurions regale me with as we stand here looking north, as a woad-encrusted Pict streaks in front of us on the fields beyond? What would I do if it was winter and I was used to the warmth of Carthago Nova? What would I do if I was out of French burgundy?” It didn’t help that I saw the ‘North Gate’ which only served to fan my imagination more.

Which then reminded me: it’s lunch time. I could do with a glass of wine and something nice to eat. I am, after all, on a hike, and a few chocolate bars, a bottle of water and a can of Diet Coke can only go so far. The cottage here in Housesteads did not have much in terms of food, merely refreshments. I had a look at my GPS and sought out the next waypoint. There was a small village ahead, so I assumed there would be at least a guest house if not a local I could stop by.

Along Hadrian's Wall looking towards Housesteads/Vercovicum Fort: Notice the trees that function as hedges

Surely there would be a small public house with provisions to spare for a weary traveller?

So, after strolling around the fort and looking through the ruins, her majestic slope looking southwards towards the Northumberland countryside, I headed towards that titan of a hedge and walked along Hadrian’s Wall, in the general direction of west, towards Carlisle. The GPS and guide both hinted at food and wine. No mead or beer please, I’m still roleplaying a bored Roman senator who needed some time away from Umbilicus Mundi.

Entrance to Housesteads/Vercovicium is GBP 7

There is no charge to the visitor’s center or the Wall.

Northumberland - Hadrian's Wall - Part 1

[This is a rather long post, so I will break it up in to a few posts. My second series after Phuket!]

Now, during my formative years in England, we used to have a show-and-tell, and one of my classmate’s parents just so happened to be archaeologists. Coupled with my fascination with Indiana Jones and my over-eagerness to visit the British Museum whenever we were in London, it would be little surprise that I grew up to become a closet archaeologist, eventually leading me on the path to an Indiana Jones-Nathan Drake-Lara Croft-esque hike out in the open Northumberland countryside, and along the since 122 AD 135 km stretch of Hadrian’s Wall.

So, on one fine Saturday in early spring, as my mates were either hungover or sleeping in, I decided to take the morning train from Newcastle Station to Bardon Mill for a little ‘me time’. Of course, I could have used the AD122 bus which runs on regular intervals between Newcastle-Monument to major sites along the Wall itself, but where is the fun in that? (That, plus I don’t like busses).

After a one hour plus train ride in the general direction of Carlisle, I stopped in, well, what felt like the middle of nowhere. Hardly even saw a corner shop.  So, leaving the station, or more like the halt, I switched my GPS and Nogago Navigator on and started my trek.

Wanting to keep this as adventure game-like as possible, I did relatively minimal research and a lot in terms of map preparation. Of course, like adventure games, Nathan Drake has no idea how far a site genuinely is, and neither did I, apart from the general direction of ‘North-Northeast from station.’

Passing through the village, walking along quiet paths and leafy neighbourhoods, intersped with the occasional pasture and cow, and walking through a pretty forest reserve which, had I not packed a satchel with provisions in, I would have went on a little trail run, I savoured in this slice of quaint rural life.

Before walking through the pretty forest reserve-turned park with Chainley Burn flowing through it, I encountered the first of many ‘checkpoints’ which formally introduced me to the English fascination with walking: the wooden gate without a lock but secured in place by something approximating a lock. It was the first of many, and it gave me a hint of where I was supposed to walk, and occasionally an entertaining way for me to side-step when I got bored of walking in a linear fashion.

Vindolanda: a magical site amidst the green

After an hour of walking, I checked my GPS to see where I was heading, and lo and behold, just a few clicks northwest was my first checkpoint: Vindolanda. I walked up along a ridge and a clearing to get a better look, and like a bored senator who was invited by the governor of Britannia to visit the great land tamed by Claudius, I turned from ‘ugh, plebes’ to ‘and behold, the might of Rome!’

Of course, my next problem would be how to get there. I was in the middle of pasture, and a few parts were fenced up. My map showed a path in front of me, which went through someone’s land. I thought ‘sure, I’ll just open the gate and walk through’ but the cows ahead of me in that field were giving me weird looks. Tantalizingly close just on the next hill, I started to wonder how to get to the site. I walked down the hill, only to be encumbered by dense vegetation and a stone fence, with a few more obstacles.

Not exactly in the mood to scale along fences or potentially be chased, comically, by a cow, I decided to forgo the direct route and use the slightly more circuitous road above. Of course, being in a fenced up field, I still needed to scale a few fences and jump up and down hedges. Eventually, I reached the road and used the more pedestrian (hah!) road.

No caption needed

Walking along the main entrance, I encountered a small cottage which doubled as the reception, mini museum and restaurant for the entire site, aptly named Chesterholm. Quaint, with a replica of a patrician Roman garden, complete with grotto and folly. After paying the entrance fee and looking through the museum, I decided to cut short the foreplay and head straight for the action.

Archaeologists digging, with a reconstructed turret in the background

I followed the sign through the garden and up a path leading to a hill. I could sense the archaeology permeating through the greenery. And then, past a few poplar trees, was Vindolanda, in all her ruined glory, a fort being there, in multiple forms from 85 AD. Archaeologists were out and about digging in their carefully laid out quadrants. I decided to indulge my little fantasy and got as close to a working archaeological site as humanly possible. And then I took a picture and immediately posted it.

Now, the UK, and the North in particular, gets a bad rap for horrible, unpredictable weather, and a penchant for it being eternally cloudy, with clear fine warm weather being as rare as a four leaf clover. Not on this trip. It was nice, sunny, warm and, dare I say it, cloud-free. A jolly day to be surrounded by jolly archaeologists digging dirt, eager to find not a gold artifact which would affect the very foundations of the universe while dealing with rolling balls and booby-traps but just a plain simple bead.

'Main Thoroughfare' in the fort: perfect weather for a stroll

So, there I was, in the middle of a Roman fort, near the very edge of Empire and a famous Romano-Britain archeological site. I was shifting between Indiana Jones and Tacitus, one second observing the archaeologists digging like a fascinated Lord Carnarvon watching his Carter, the next like a bored Roman senator suddenly filled with pride at how his great Roman Empire could transplant a piece of the Med to the very doorstep of the Barbarians in this not exactly temperate site.

Digging archaeologists, amidst well manicured grounds and rolling hills.

It helped that the site was clearly signed. The map was of ‘some’ use, but wandering around was the best, as you stroll around and imagine what was propped up where in what order. I walked along the walls, went to the baths, admired the views from the commander’s quarters and scaled up a reconstructed guard tower, wondering where the wode-brigade was.

'Thermae' in the fort: fancy a warm bath? Get the slaves to light the fire

After a good hour living a fantasy with split personality, I decided to head on to the main event itself: the Wall. But before that, no checkpoint in an action adventure game is complete without a trophy! So, I got a post-ironic Roman Legion recruitment poster. It was either that or a gladius, and I didn’t have space in my satchel for a mock-relic. I then asked the nice receptionist at the cottage how to get to the Wall. She suggested the bus. Naturally, I ignored that advice and trotted on by foot, wishing I had a grappling hook instead to pull me ahead.

How to get there?

Train Stop: Bardon Mills

(Or for the less adventurous, a few stops on the AD166 Hadrian’s Wall Country Bus from Newcastle in front of Eldon Square/Monument)

Distance: Bardon Mills – Vindolanda (including my slight detours) is 3.75 km

Regular trains run the Newcastle-Carlisle route, though best to use ‘Northern Rail’ services, which stop at most if not all stations between Newcastle and Carlisle. I bought tickets on the day itself, as there is little incentive to pre-book tickets on this commuter-ish route.

Admission to Vindolanda is GBP 6.75 and includes an ‘optional’ 10% donation included in the price, though there is a joint ticket if you also want to see the Roman Army Museum further down the Wall, and not exactly convenient walking distance if you want to make  a stop during the hike, unless you have a car.