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.