Greencarts to Bardon Mill
We enjoyed a full cooked breakfast in the neighbouring bunkhouse with the two Americans. They were going the opposite way along the wall (from Bowness to Newcastle) so had just completed the middle section. They told us it was the most scenic of the route and they couldn’t stop taking photos. There was also a mention of a herd of cows blocking a gate in Bowness-on-Solway. I would often think of this every time we entered a field with cows (I’m not scared of cows with their calves, just wary!)
Once we were ready, we paid and this time didn’t need to think of giving the key back as there was none. Up to now giving a key back was something we kept forgetting. The landlady still thought of Simon as Australian.
It felt a trek just getting to the end of the farm track. And then the rain started to come on. Ah well, I mused, we were prepared. We were wearing waterproof trousers and jackets, had got used to the on/off drizzle of the previous few days and had rambled in the rain in the run-up to this challenge.
But no, this was different.
It was torrential.
This was the day when we ended up walking through what seemed to be a bog. When our shoes (allegedly waterproof), socks (allegedly blisterproof), and ultimately feet (neither waterproof or blisterproof) got wet. Soaking wet.
But it was also the day we arrived at Sewingshields which for me was when the Hadrian’s Wall walk turned from simply a pleasant wander through gentle country fields into something much more, both in terms of both history and scenery. We were along the wall proper. I remember going through a forested area then coming out to the wall and, unlike a little glimpse earlier, this was the main section. The flatness gave way to hills.
Just before Sewingshields, we encountered two men sheltering under the trees from the heavy downpour, they were on their way to Greenhead (where we were heading the next day), and were completing the walk in four days. There did seem to be an informal ‘competition’ where people would say how long they were doing it for. We were doing it in eight and certainly would not be classed as ‘winners’.
Finally we arrived at Housesteads, located right on the wall itself, and although I had visions of tea it turned out there was no cafe as such at the museum but one a bit further away. Still, there was a hint of warmth in the museum, and its collection of artefacts were engaging. Housesteads is seen as the best of the Roman forts by some but, due to the weather conditions, we didn’t stay long outside at the ruins and I would say I had a better time at Chesters and Corbridge. From Housesteads we took a detour towards Vindolanda and Bardon Mill, away from Hadrian’s Wall Path through fields, across the road, and along the minor road on the other side. We passed a couple of lime kilns along the way, not Roman origin but interesting in themselves. A blocked gate prevented us from entering a meadow and it turned out there were cows and calves in there.
Vindolanda was the largest of the museums and forts we had visited so far. There was a disappointing moment when we realised it wasn’t English Heritage and we’d have to pay entry (although being English Heritage members we still saved £1), but there was plenty to see including the famous writing tablets. Outside we could see the remains of not only the fort, but what would have been the ‘civilian settlement’ of homes and shops. A reconstruction of Hadrian’s Wall is also there. Unfortunately the weather impeded our enjoyment of looking outside but we had a cup of tea and scone in the cafe while looking again at our map. Our path to Bardon Mill took us along the quiet country road again, past some houses and, feeling exhausted, when we finally got to a tunnel going under a main road where the B&B was situated on we opted to ring the guesthouse for directions. We weren’t far, just another 15 minutes or so. Across the busy road, another phonecall (were we still going the right way?), and we glimpsed the sign for Strand Cottage. How welcome it looked!
Our landlady let us in and, thankfully, told us our soaking wet clothes could be kept in the dry room, along with our boots. More welcome news came when she said dining options were either a takeaway or her husband would drive us to the local pub. A quick shower later, a change to spare shoes (which fitted well), and we caught a very kind lift to the pub. I imagine it was a mere 10 minutes walk but our feet 
was grateful for a lift. The atmosphere was a bit anxious in the car as the landlord had lost the couple’s dog earlier. The landlady told us they’d try to pick us up later but couldn’t be certain, they were going to try and find their dog first. We both had a tasty meal in the village pub and were working on a newspaper crossword when our landlord appeared. Happily, it turned out the couple had found their rescue pooch. And, once back in the guesthouse, it was time for bed – and a chance for my poor feet to recover from the rain as well as the 15 miles slog that day.
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