Captain's Log

Carlisle

There was a Lidl just across the road from Premier Inn Not-So-Central and I took the opportunity to stock up on some refreshments for the day. In my quest of calories I bought a slab of cooked pizza from their fresh-food section. I later found out that oil seeped out of its paper wrapper and into the top pocket of my rucksack, covering everything in there with a layer of grease for the rest of the trail. At midday, when I did eventually eat it, I found it to be the greasiest and saltiest thing I'd ever tasted. If you like grease and salt, then I recommend Lidl pizzas. 

Yesterday, I'd traversed Carlisle's town centre to get to the hotel, rather than follow the meandering Hadrian's Wall Path along the River Eden. Officially I should have retraced my steps back to the western side of the city to pick up the trail again, but I couldn't face that long, wearisome plod back along Warwick Road. I therefore decided to head northwards on public footpaths, and re-join the Hadrian's Wall Path towards the northeast of Carlisle, alongside the River Eden. A quick chat with a groundsman of the local golf course revealed that rain was due at 14:00 today. Since I'd walked an extra 6 miles yesterday, I had less distance  to walk today and so I figured I might actually reach my intended campsite at Sandysike Farm near Walton, before the deluge started. I used a footbridge to cross the River Eden and found myself back on the Hadrian's Wall Path again. Immediately, I diverted off of it and wandered along an avenue of trees to inspect a large and impressive war memorial. Inspection complete, I re-joined the Hadrian's Wall Path a little further on. Fields were now ahead of me. I'd finally escaped Carlisle.

Three Roman Thru-Hikers

The Americans have a word for walkers completing a long-distance trail end-to-end continuously: thru-hikers. For some reason, I'm protective of the English language and would love for there to be an equivalent English based word. Unfortunately, there isn't; thru-hikers it has to be.

I met three Italian thru-hikers at the Linstock Cottage honesty refreshment stop. They beckoned me into the open barn to take a seat at the table with them. I dumped my rucksack, extracted a Vimto from the fridge and popped the money in the honesty box. The trio looked to be in their sixties and were from Maranello, '...where ze Ferrari's are made...where you from?' 'From Sheffield where steel for your Ferraris is made.' My joke lost something of its impact, probably due to translation. In fact, my follow up attempt at humour, saying that they were the first Roman's I'd encountered on the trail, went over their head's too. I managed to decipher that they'd had a difficult journey to the start, including a flight to London, train to Carlisle and a sauna-cum-bus to Bownes-on-Solway. They were using a baggage transfer service for the trail and I envied their tiny rucksacks. They were staying at Walton, near to my campsite and so I figured that our paths would cross again sometime later on the trail. That is the life of a thru-hiker.

Where's Hadrian's Wall?

I was a day and a half along the trail now and I'd still had no sight of a wall. This didn't come as surprise to me since I'd read that would be the case in my trail guide. The Romans built the western section of the wall in sandstone. About two thousand years of British weather had washed away the wall; well, those bits that hadn't already been knicked to build houses, churches and farm walls.

Just beyond Crosby-on-Eden I got my first sniff off the wall. In fact, the path actually walked on top of the wall, but because it was hidden under turf, I could only see an impression of it. A Dutch couple was seated at the end of the field. They'd come across to Newcastle on the ferry and were just doing the trail between Corbridge and Carlisle. A lot of people do the 'interesting' middle section of the trail and miss out the 'boring' end sections. In fact, I'd also already done the trail from Newburn (near Newcastle) to Carlisle Airport as out-and-back walks, and so I'd now found my way back to familiar territory. I left the Dutch couple and took the opportunity to have a discrete pee near to a hedgerow in the next field.  As I walked through the nearby gate a notice board on the other side warned me of 'wildlife' cameras that had been set up in this area. I sighed.

Newtown

Newtown had a curious atmosphere to it. It was really a one street village. It had a playing field and the houses were quite presentable. It just somehow had an unfriendly feeling to it.  There was a refreshment honesty stop halfway down the street and so I decided to pay a visit. There was a patio table and the shed was well stocked with goodies, but it just didn't seem that inviting. There was a ledger where you had to note down what you'd taken and how much you'd paid. A notice told me to smile because I was on CCTV. When I sat down at the patio table, I saw that a CCTV camera had been set up to cover the patio table too. It all felt a little bit intimidating and to be honest, I wasn't sorry to leave. I'm sure that some idiots abuse the honesty box system, but I'm not sure I'd be inclined to set up surveillance to deter the problem.

Beyond Newtown, there were the first hints of the terrain becoming more hilly. It was a really pretty section through fields and woodland. Before I knew it, I arrived at Sandysike Farm campsite, my destination for the day.

Sandysike Campsite

Sandysike was a working farm and it consisted of quite a few buildings. I wondered if there was just one, or a number of families living in them. I managed to find my way into a courtyard and rang a bell (a real one, not an electric one) next to a door. Three terriers dashed out and snapped around my ankles with an elderly lady following in pursuit. She was very friendly and led me around to the back of the house where there was a stunning view southwards to the western Pennines. There was quite a wind, which looked like it was a precursor to some rain, and I was keen to get my tent up. There was quite a large grassy area surrounded by tall trees and I figured that location would provide the best shelter for my tent out of the wind. At this point, her husband turned up with a chainsaw; he was removing some of the small branches on the trees around the house. He told me that a 300 year old Beach tree had blown over the other year and landed on the Bunkhouse. 'There were people staying inside too, but nobody was hurt' he jovially told me. I ensured that I pitched my tent outside the falling zone of nearby trees.

The Firefighter And The Lecturer

I met the firefighter and lecturer in the toilet-shower block. After I'd pitched my tent, I'd snoozed for a while and on awakening found two other tents pitched near to me. I thought their owner's were in the tent, but when I entered the toilet-shower block I found two women there. They were doing the Hadrian's Wall Path from east to west and they said that I should join them over in the patio area when they were cooking their dinner later on.

I wandered over once they got their grub underway. They were from Norwich and were doing the trail over six days. We exchanged details of past walks and I took the opportunity to Tommy Top them as often as I could. This came to a sudden halt though when the Lecturer told me that she'd spent a few months last year sailing in the Southern Ocean. Hmm...there was no way I could Tommy Top that! She must have seen the disappointment on my face since she offered me some nuts as consolation. They happened to be salty and I'd not really got over the saltiness from my Lidl pizza. It made me gag a little. It was dark by the time they finished their meal and so we all retired to our tents. It would be a 15 miler tomorrow over hilly terrain, and so rest was required. As I nestled down in my sleeping bag I could hear light rain patter against my tent. There is something oddly relaxing about that sound.

It had been a lot cooler today and this had made it much more enjoyable than the previous day. There had been a lot of field hopping, but the landscape had been pretty enough. There had also been the opportunity to chat to thru-hikers. I wondered how the three Romans were doing in nearby Walton. Maybe they were tucking into pasta and red wine at this very moment.