Walking the Wall – May 2004
June's Other Adventures
Day 1: May 8, 2004
Wallsend is a little town on the eastern side of Newcastle Upon Tyne near the mouth of the River Tyne. Just before noon Andrew dropped us off at the Roman Museum of Segedunnum – the start of our hike. Apparently, the Roman Fort Segedunnum (pronounced Seg-e-dunn-um) was the last fort built along the wall. All that is left today is the outline of the buildings in stone on the ground but the brochure says that archaeologists have identified the position of every building and it is the only place in the Roman Empire where you can see a whole fort laid out.
As we were anxious to get on our way, we didn’t spend much time in the museum and put our first steps on the trail at 3 minutes to noon. Looking back - now that I’ve had a soaking bath, a glass of wine and I’m waiting for dinner to be served - I’d say today’s hike was not ‘beautiful’ but it was interesting. The asphalt path ran alongside the shipyards, and then the path took us riverside in an area where Andrew suggested we “don’t stop for lunch”. Derelict buildings were eyesores but the actual walkway – now all done in interlocking stones – was really quite nice. The tide was apparently on its way in, so water was really only in the middle half of the river. It’s amazing the things people throw over the rivers edge and with each movement of the tide the items bury deeper in the back mud until they take on very gruesome shapes.
Once we passed the industrial area we emerged into some very nice parkland with fishermen (and women) manning their long poles over the edge. The boardwalk (really a stone walk) entered nicer and nicer neighbourhoods as we approached the city, all the while at the edge of the river. Soon the housing on our walk became little shops, pubs and restaurants. We passed the new Millennium Bridge – the only footbridge across the Tyne – built in 2000. It is nicknamed “the eye” because when it is moved to allow ships to pass it “blinks”. An incredible sight really – too bad we didn’t get to see it blink. As we passed over the western side of Newcastle, the path continued through some very nice parkland along the rivers edge. Everything appears relatively new with nice new benches along the way. Unfortunately, the graffiti artists are making their presence known and spoiling all the newness. Just occasional glimpses of the wall as much of it around the city has been destroyed.
As we start to head away from the city, the path veers away from the rivers edge, but it is still asphalt. We could easily have biked this part of the path and indeed many do. It’s Saturday afternoon and despite the steady drizzle, there are some family bikers – but most bikers are kids. Young teens making their way to the dryness underneath the bridges so they can smoke and drink beer. We would walk on by and they’d comment on the old man in the cowboy hat (which was all Michael had to keep the rain off his head). The site of the Keelman Inn in Newburn brought on a sigh of relief.
5 ½ hours 12 miles 28,729 steps
Day 2 - Overcast, but not raining – I think it rained all night long. We set out from Newburn after “a full English breakfast” and walked along the bank of the River Tyne. The tide has been up and is just starting to go down, but the river is much prettier when those mud covered figures aren’t in sight. The overnight rain has made the path muddy and slippery but it has brought out the songbirds and the smells of the wildflowers alongside the path. The river is smooth and the “8’s with cox” were moving at quite the speed. Across the river the Sunday church bells play a tune that for a while drowns out the songbirds. The river got narrower and when the church bells got out of range, we could hear the golfers across the river teeing off.
After about 3 miles, we veered off the river and started the long trek uphill to Heddon-on-the-Wall. The valley of the Tyne is quite like the Beaver Valley at home and little did I know in the morning, that I would be up and down this valley several times. Heddon-on-the-Wall is a very pretty little town and has special meaning to Michael. It’s built at the top of the valley hill and its narrow roads twist and turn. Around the corner, the “Swan Inn” suddenly came into view – the very location where two generations of Gilhespy's operated a blacksmith shop in the room that is the dining room today. Too bad it’s only 11:30 and it doesn’t open until 12 as I’m sure Michael would like to talk up the locals.
The twisty road through Heddon displayed a mixture of old and new, and new made with old materials so it looks old. At the end of the town road was a church and we strolled through the graveyard – but no Gilhespy head stones to be found.
For the next hour or so, we walked on this road alongside “the wall”. Our Sherpa van trail guide suggested we leave the path at Rudchester Farm as the next 15 miles were simply a path across farmer’s fields alongside the wall and a major highway. So we did as suggested and I’m most happy to say that I’m now sitting in the pub of our hotel, and that we do not have to spend the night in the woods – a thought I entertained several times.
After leaving the trail, we walked country roads and at 1:30 when we approached the small town of Horsley with a pub, we dragged our weary bodies inside. It’s Sunday and a “full English lunch” is quite the plate of food – I counted 8 veggies over my little slab of lamb.
I was ‘allowed’ a full hour for lunch today and then the real adventure began. Our Sherpa van route told us to follow the path – but that was it. We walked across the road until we came across a “public footpath” sign and headed off into the fields of mustard seed. Walking through a field of mustard seed at eye level (my eye level) is a new experience and the smell of the wet plants is engrossing. After a half hour or so we came to the forest edge and the mere fact that there was a stile was our only hint that we were on a trail. However, once over the stile and into the forest, there were no trail markers and in hindsight, we should have turned left instead of right – it really was a beautiful trail – very much like our Bruce Trail high up on a ledge with the steep creek valley to our left and a layered limestone wall to our right. The path was very muddy in places and quite slippery too, but the forest floor was a mass of white and purple flowers and the bird songs and the flower smells were overwhelming.
The problem is the Brits are great at marking the start of their trails but no clues whatsoever at each fork. I had a sneaking suspicion we were headed in the wrong direction but with no sun to guide us…well the rest is history. The wooded trail – known as the “Whittle Dene” went on for miles and eventually ended at a major highway with the minor roads all headed BACK to Newcastle. I think we walked in a large circle but without a map we’ll never know. At 4 pm after realizing we really were dead ended we headed BACK into the forest – only this time Michael decided to walk a straight line – path or no path. We crossed the ‘Dene’ (really only a little creek) and I started planning our night in the woods – cookie and water rationing. Eventually we did find a footpath and followed it out of the forest – not having the foggiest clue where we were.!!!!
Then our guardian angel took over – ahead was a fellow loading his truck after finishing his landscaping job for the day. He pulled out his map and we realized at 5 pm we were 12 miles from our night’s destination. He lived 4 miles down the road in Corbridge so we happily accepted his offer of a ride and he dropped us off at a service station that sells maps (which he cheekily recommended). Instead we bought chocolate bars and ventured out for the next 8 mile hike but low and behold a bus appeared (a rare sight for a Sunday). We just couldn’t pass the opportunity and he took us the next 4 miles to Hexham.
Hexham is a large town full of shops and historic sights but nothing you can see at 5:30 pm on a Sunday evening. So again we welcomed the sight of the taxi stand. The taxi took us straight to our night’s destination – Hadrian hotel in Wall. After a relax and a shower, we went down to the pub – a very busy pub – don’t know whether this is typical of Sunday night – but it is off-season. We ordered dinner at 8 pm and it’s now 9 pm and still not served. The good news is I’ve time to write this memoir. We’re in the back room of the pub at our hotel and it’s very noisy and smoky. A lot of Brits still smoke and “a pint” in the pub is a way of life. Children are allowed in the pubs until 7 pm and at lunch there were several children absorbing the second hand smoke while their parents had their pint or two.
At 9:15 when our dinner was served we thought our night was over. But along with dinner was a note. During our 4 mile drive with the landscaper (he described himself as a tree surgeon) Michael had talked about how his daughter Karen had traced his family back to this area in the 1600’s. The fellow, who we now know is John Hardy, mentioned that his wife is also into genealogy. We’d only mentioned that we were staying in Wall and they tracked us down to this hotel. Kim (John’s wife) told Michael that she has discovered the name Gilhespy in her family lineage. Michael gave her his email address and I fully expect we’ll put Kim in touch with Karen.
6+ hours ?? miles 27386 steps
Day 3 - We’re told this is the BEST day for sightseeing….and it was incredible!! But oh so tough!!
We left the village of Wall shortly after 9 and – not knowing what lay ahead of us – we stopped off at the National Heritage Site “Chester’s Fort” and spent over an hour browsing the museum and grounds. The grounds are really spectacular and all of it recovered from under the earth’s surface. And really only pieces of it recovered – you can see where the archeologists stopped and only imagine what lies beneath where the lambs frolic (more on that later – we really got a kick out of watching the baby lambs). The museum housed the relics that were unearthed during the Fortress recovery and thinking back – it was the Childs bootie that I remember. Probably leather but after 2000 years – now more like stone.
After a tea at the gift shop, we headed out for what turned out to be one absolutely incredible day – and almost all of it uphill. We crossed field to field – all barricaded by stone fences (undoubtedly stones stolen from the wall). Miles and miles of stone fences – and you can see the stolen stones as they are the ‘perfect’ ones. And hundreds and hundreds of sheep – I never knew there are so many varieties. What are so cute are the little lambs that don’t want to move inches from their moms. Every once in a while they decide to frolic and not only do they run around but they also jump – absolutely adorable. But after that little bit of exercise its right back to become a shadow of mom. No idea where dad is all this time.
The approach to the Northumberland National Park was all uphill. It seemed to go uphill for miles – and as we walked alongside the wall, I thought to myself “all we are carrying are our daypacks”. I can’t imagine collecting/cutting/carrying all that stone to construct the wall – up hill to boot. The wall was 3 metres wide – the outside stones were perfectly symmetrical – same size, same shape but the inner stones were a mish mash of whatever they could use for filler.
At this part of the trail, away from the city pilferage, much of it remains intact, although there are many places where you can see where people have taken those ‘perfect’ outside stones to build their houses. And why not we ask – there for the taking – long before it became protected property – was “a house ready to be built” – a lot like the suitcase of lego blocks today.
The climb up the crags was arduous to say the least…and it wore us out. It was a sunny high cloud day – the best day weather-wise yet and we could see for miles. The highest point was 350 metres (1100 feet ??) and by the time we reached it, it felt like we’d climbed a mountain. But unlike Kilimanjaro, we could see the bottom – mile after mile of rolling farmland dotted by sheep and the occasional homestead. This part of the walk was indeed the best day for sightseeing – the wall is perched on the edge of the crags and the brute strength and architectural aptitude to build it is unimaginable. This day became the day to remember – had I studied the map beforehand (I left that to Michael), I would have realized that way out there perched on top of the crags alongside the wall in the National Park – there are NO facilities for food/drink or whatever. It became a v-e-r-y long day with no lunch and the realization that we actually had to ration our water. Mid-afternoon we opted for a road path instead of the field path and Michael actually started hitchhiking – but to no avail. When we no longer had a choice, we went back on to the path and back up into the crags.
The view from atop a crag really is incredible. The problem is one always must look down for each next step – we didn’t want to trip over a stone, fall in a rodent hole or slip on some sheep dung. It sort of takes away from the thrill of the incredible scenery. As late afternoon approached, the sounds of sheep bleating and cattle mooing were interrupted by thunder – and here we were, all alone, way up on top of a crag, roads not even in sight. Not much to do but carry on.
The skies didn’t really open up until we were safely within our B&B. There were eight of us seated at one table for dinner and the power went off. Luckily the storm blew over and all it left behind was more mud on the trail.
9+ hours – only 12 miles –33069 steps
Day 4 – Due to various aches and pains, we decided the wise decision was to take the day off from hiking and drive the trail. A very wise decision when I look at the shape of Michael’s toes. One can feel the pain just looking at them.
Now that we have ‘wheels’ (our car had been left for us at the night 3 B&B), we decided to revisit our route of the past 2 days. We drove back through the towns of Corbridge and Hexham and tried to find the oldest parts of the towns to explore. Then we were off to Heddon-on-the-Wall, to the Swan Inn for lunch. The dining room is a museum of the former blacksmith’s shop and everyone Michael talked with indicated that yes they remembered the Gilhespy name as past operators of the shop. After lunch in the former shop – now dining room, we went across the street to the St. Andrews Church graveyard and found 3 gravestones for various Thomas Gilhespy’s, the earliest death being 1777. The church warden gave us prints of the stone markings as most are becoming illegible. Then off to Ponteland to another graveyard where we found 2 more Gilhespy gravestones. The steady drizzle reinforced that our plan to take a day off was a good one and as we traveled the country roads alongside the wall and path, we relived our excitement/anticipation/pain of the 3 previous days.