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.