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| Self at Eden Bridge |
As a brief aside from
the Wall Path, I feel it my responsibility to report that Scotland
is
open for business, having last come this close to the Scottish Border
back in 2010 and visited Coldstream, a military town that you might
expect to have a low hum of activity vibrating around it, only to
find it mostly closed with only the pub and the memorial gardens
having about half a dozen total people in them. So it's with some joy
to report that Gretna positively buzzes with activity, at least the
Outlet Village and the tourist trap around the Gretna Green
Smithy do, as when you are that close to a venue for reduced cost
clothing and entertaining local produce, it demands that you pay a visit,
though I'm sure it's only there to tempt English tourists' pounds
into the Scottish Economy. It does make you wonder how this sort of
thing might work out in the wake of Scottish independence, which side
of the border would be good for the cheap goods and which side would
be dealing the moneyed tourists? Crossing over also gives you a
chance to see how the architecture changes, visualising the
differences that make it all feel actually Scottish, demonstrating
that a line on the ground can effect building styles just as much as
it would accents, but there's surely some cross-pollination to the
styles on both side of the Solway Firth, and there are indeed,
especially those low square windows closer to the wall angle than the
central door, the long, low one-storeyed cottages, and that taste for
whitewash with black window frames and details. Anyway, I digress
again, the last day on the trail beckons, through a landscape quite
dissimilar to that encountered in all my travels, heading for an end
that seemed such a long ways away when in Wallsend last May.
Hadrian's Wall Path:
Eden Bridge to Bowness on Solway 14.8 miles
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| Carlisle Castle & Bitts Park |
Get dropped off at the
Sands Centre for a slightly earlier start, scurrying down to Eden
Bridge for a 9.30am jump onto the trail, passing under the Eden
Bridges, as the locals would have them after the many river channels
they used to cross, and for the fact that it is actually two
structures of 1816 and 1932, melded together without it being obvious
which is the original. The path follows an obvious metalled path down
through Bitts Park, the municipal park to serve Carlisle town centre,
bringing together a mesh of formal gardens, ancient playing fields,
sporting and recreational facilities, and wild riverside woodlands in
almost equal measure, over which looms the massive bulk of Carlisle
Castle, one of the few which should be described as a fortress, as it
really looks like it was built to withstand a siege. A small element
of Wall interest is to be found at the top corner of the park, an
enclosure of Roman stones from the ancient crossing of the Eden,
down from
Uxelodunum, dredged from the riverbed in 1952 and presented without
interpretation, so that you can fire your imagination as the wall
line is crossed as you pass on over the outflow of the river Caldew
and around the perimeter of the Sheepmount sports fields along the
riverside path, with the Eden well concealed by a wall of vegetation.
This is the trail that I had my first stretch of 2012 down, long
before the idea of conceiving a 1,000 mile odyssey, and one dog
walker immediately recognises me as someone on the final push to
Bowness, and gives me encouragement and early congratulations,
recommending that this is a trail that should be walked by everybody,
to which I concur, before pushing on to Eden Viaduct, under the West
Coast mainline, and it was a riot of rail traffic up there back in
that distant February, replaced with total silence today. Beyond we
wander on, largely under tree cover until the view over the churning
river opens out next to the site of Carlisle's main electricity
generating plant, where only few remains of the old brick buildings
of the first power station endure, and further along the river the
Border Union viaduct sits, and I feel lucky to have come this way
before as the path beneath it has been fenced off and workmen are
busy with some remedial work (you'd hope to open it to public use,
but I'm not holding my breath) and the path climbs up the embankment
to lead across its throat and then onward along the elevated
riverbank.
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| Natural rampart, near Grinsdale |
The guide book claims
that we are again on the wall line, but there's nothing at all to
see, making you wonder how conjectural the route might be, and you
start to tease yourself that the raised grassy line running across
the field beneath a forest of pylons might be stretch if vallum ditch
that the archaeologists might have missed. Carrying on along the high
bank of the river, I wonder why I had trailed this a day without the
interaction of contour lines, as the path makes three sharp drops and
climbs to pass through the wooded gills of interceding streams, as
well as heading under the Carlisle Western Relief Road, with a neatly
dressed arch in red sandstone, marking the last crossing point on the
Eden, before eventually dropping close to the river level as we
approach the village of Grinsdale. I'd hoped to get a shot of the
parish church on its bluff, above the curve of the river but it hides
behind many trees and St Kerntigan's will have to go un-phtographed,
and I'll rise into the village that seems to be little more than a
collection of farmsteads, for the briefest of watering sessions
before taking the path around to the back of Park farm and striking
out along the track that leads onto a raised mount on which the wall
line followed, and a bit of retaining walls beneath the clump of
trees is enough to tease as to the possibility of Roman remains. This
leads to a seriously over-engineered style, and the track follows a
hollowed track down the side of corn fields before encountering the
stone Sourmilk footbridge that is almost as odd as the preceding
stile, eventually rising to meet what counts for an escarpment in
these low lands, another ridge that only stands 10m above the
surroundings but would have provided a commanding outlook for the
Roman wall in the direction of Caledonia. Drop from this elevated
view all too quickly, descending through fields of duck ponds which
contain no ducks, to find warning that the path along the Eden
riverbank towards Beaumont has suffered a landslip, and a detour is
in force, so we have to deviate off Dollies Lane to take the sticky
and overgrown path to the edge of Kirkandrews on Eden, which has a
graveyard but no church, and follow the lane past the parish hall and
above the river, with no decent views offered and a surface covered
in the results of a horrible farm produce spillage.
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| Wall Line, near Burgh by Sands |
Beaumont has a little
more to it, several lanes converging on the green in front of the
neat little church of St Mary, with enough activity to give the
impression that it's farm are still living, a good spot to water
again and to admire the finger-post, in the style that is to be found
all over Cumberland, with this being the first that I have gotten
close to in three days of walking. Depart onto the farm tracks that
leads from one of the most Solway-styled houses in Cumbria, following
this enclosed path as it gradually rises to probably the highest
point for the entire day, a whopping 25+m of elevation, once again
following the wall line and offering the most limited of views, back
to the North Pennines and forward to the Solway Firth, and also over
towards Lakeland, which I had expected to loom much larger on today's
trail, but the Northern Fell might just be that bit too far away to
be more than distant lumps in the haze. The track declines very
slowly, as I catch up towards a quartet of walkers who passed me in
Beaumont and approaching the coast road, I burn them off, and as the
track slips back to a field walk, a look back up the hill show what
will probably be the clearest look at the wall line enduring in the
landscape that we will see all day. Soon we meet the road again,
leading us into Burgh-by-Sands, where a wander through the churchyard
of St Michael's gives us a chance to admire this low and bulky
church, one almost certainly built in Roman Stone, and to arrive at
the end of the village where
Aballava fort once stood,
probably under the spot where Fort House now resides. On the whole,
this village, strung out along the road like a ribbon, has to be one
of the most picturesque in the county (which includes Lakeland, I
might add) a real collection of building displaying the best of
Cumbrian styles, where even the late 20th century arrivals
have been well-styled to fit in perfectly, the sort of place where
you could easily lose count of the number of fantasy retirement homes
that you could imagine for yourself. It's also a place that has a
claim to history, since it was a mile or so north of here that King
Edward I died in 1307, of dysentery on Burgh Marsh whilst waiting for
a favourable tide so he could engage in his favourite pastime,
invading Scotland, a statue now stands next to the Greyhound Inn, a
testament to an English King whose actions have proved very hard to
admire.
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| Burgh Marsh |
Leave the dream
retirement community behind and start pounding the lane to the west,
completely exposed to traffic but along a trail thankfully lacking
maniacs, where wits are still needed to avoid the deliveries of
Scottish beer and those odd people who would still drive a Robin
Reliant, rolling up to Dykesfield farm, the last place to pick an
alternative route before you hit the long drag across Burgh Marsh.
Further deterrent is provided by the tidal tables and the photograph
of a half-submerged bus next to the cattle grid, warning that a high
tide could inundate the coast road as it crosses the marshland. No
such risk today, as the tide is wa-aaay out, and much greater risk is
posed by the cattle who graze on the marshland (for extra-salty beef,
maybe?), a half dozen of them seeming to be fearless/suicidal when
presented with on-coming traffic and cyclists, and even though the
path follows the road, I'll detour onto the flood embankment for less
risky progress, where many feet have trod before me, virtually
ensuring that a right of way will one day exist up here, where a
better view to the Solway Firth can be had without dodging the
traffic. Pause mid-way along, to chow on my pizza and be frustrated
that the haze is spoiling my view into Scotland, but also feeling
thankful that the high, dense cloud is keeping off some heat, when
there is enough warm and motionless air already floating around.
Boustead Hill teases as being the end of the marsh, being a
collection of farmsteads and houses on a knoll above the marshland,
when it is less than halfway across, and is surely the lowest
settlement int the land with 'Hill' in its name, but it still has its own
finger-post and bus stop, so it isn't nowhere. Carrying on, with a
hawthorn hedge to my south, the walk along the embankment seems to go
on and on, hitting the boring marker at about the time that I meet
the flood measurement gauge, a distinctly Heath-Robinson looking
construction, as I try to divert myself by watching the antics of the
even larger herds of cows at this end of the marsh, and by startling
the sheep who are hiding beneath the hedge. The end thankfully come
past the road to Easton, gradually pulling up onto higher land and
looking back to again get another tease as to the whereabouts of the
wall line, is it hiding beneath that long, straight ridge across the
marsh, having survived 1600 years of tidal forces, or is it just the
spoil from a drainage ditch, grassed over and looking much more
ancient?
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| Drumburgh Castle |
All told, including
lunch breaks, the marsh crossing absorbed more than an hour, and the
rise into Drumburgh feels like a return to civilisation, even though
it is little more than a hamlet, but it is rendered immediately
interesting as the site of Roman
Congabata, and by the presence of
its Castle, not really a castle at all, or even a fortified manor,
but what's known as a Solway bastle, a farm house built on a huge
scale and heavily reinforced to withstand whatever Scottish raiders
might throw at it. It's surely the best piece of Border architecture
to be seen along the trail, and the Roman altars parked at the top of
its entrance steps gives us another link to the distant past in a
landscape where there are so few, it utterly dominates its settlement
and I'd admire it for longer if it wasn't for the clock starting to
count down on my expected conclusion time. The path departs
completely from the wall line, to use the ROWs away from the coast
road, and beyond Low Farm, that become something of a regrettable
decision as the trail hits just the dullest and viewless section of
gravel track heading south west towards Moss Cottage, where heavy
farm machinery has to be avoided, and then swinging north west
towards Walker House, where even a few moments of sunshine can't stop
the boredom trigger firing again. There's an ominous amount of noise
beyond the farm, which turns out to be a combine harvester doing its
business, at the distant end of the field along which the flagged
path I am following runs, leading to a rising track through a sheep
pasture, dropping us eventually on the edge of the hamlet of Glasson.
More Solway architecture to enjoy here, showing a lot of rubble
construction and heavy edging stones, but no sight of the miniature
bastle teased by Pevsner, instead turn attention to the the pub and
wonder why it is named the Highland Laddie, and why it has a crudely
Scotchified version of the Laughing Cavalier by Frans Hals as its logo, and I'd
also ponder what Haaf-Netting was, if my guide book hadn't explained
for me. Set a return to the Roman age, as the path meets a track
along the Vallum line, and you can ponder if the recently cut
drainage ditch might have a base that is a lot more ancient, and as
we draw up by Glendale caravan park, we get our sole view towards the
Anthorn VLF array, a bunch of masts used to communicate with nuclear
submarines, apparently.
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| Solway Canal Sea Lock, Port Carlisle |
Meet the coast road
once again, and cross over to meet the shore line, well we would it
the growth of hardy plants hadn't taken over to all but completely
obscure the view, so shrouded progress is made as we follow along the
channel of the Solway Canal, a doomed 19th century
enterprise that intended to link the Irish and North seas, but only
operated to Carlisle from 1821 to 1853, its fortunes ruined by the
shifting sands of the Solway and the emergence of the railways,
eventually being converted to a railway line that never prospered but
endures a a horse-drawn tramway until 1914, the last such enterprise
in the country. The hopes of the enterprising age can be seen in the
firth as the stone remains of the never completed floating dock
gradually crumble away just off the shore line, and the channel still
shows signs of dampness, despite 150 years having passed since its
days of canalisation, and the reeds grow healthily still, whilst
autumn fruits flourish all along the path, Blackberries, Rosehips and
whatever the berries on Hawthorn might be called (Haws?). Soon enough
we roll up at Port Carlisle, a hopeful name for a settlement that
never grew to fill its name, cut off by the building of the Solway
Viaduct in 1869 (demolished 1934), these days a selection of town
houses stretched along the coast road, with the small warehouse and
the customs house giving away its original usage, at least until you
meet the sea lock and the remaining fragments of the wooden pier at
the shore line. Set course for the end of the trail past the end of
the village, rejoining the road and knowing that the house above the
bend of the lane couldn't possibly be the edge of Bowness, tramping
the verge and avoiding the cyclists and traffic, sure that there
should be a diversion along the edge of the marshland, but stay on
firmer going as the signs warn that this is another corner that
presents risks of tidal flooding. Sure enough, the elevated house is
not the end, and it's called the Grey Havens for all you Tolkien
fans, but the road beyond looks like the home stretch, and that Fiat
turning around in the distance is surely my parents, seeking a place
in Bowness to park up. It's selfie time as I meet the sign at the
edge of the village, and I'm sure the substantial field wall beyond
has been put in place to give hope to the tired walker that there
might be some Roman rubble beneath it, having been starved of ancient
stones since leaving the high lands.
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| Bowness on Solway |
Meet the village edge
and the finger-post directing me to Banks Promenade, suddenly aware
that I'm not entirely sure where it is located, rising into the
village that seems to be much more compact that the others in these
parts as if some force has prevented any gaps from being left between
any of the buildings, and it so small a place that it seems to lack
an obvious centre, even though the road runs directly along the
east-west alignment of
Maia fort, the last one on the wall. An
alleyway directs me to the promenade, decently high above the Firth
of Solway, and the small wooden pavilion greets the walker in English and Latin at
the conclusion of their 84 mile journey from Wallsend, a whole other
world away from here, all done at 3.15pm and right on schedule,
adding stamp #7 to my passport for the greatest feeling of
satisfaction. Such a shame that there is no one here to greet me,
having arrived 5 minutes before my parents, and you think that one of
those Roman re-enactment types could linger here through the
afternoons to congratulate the arrivals as they roll in, I'll just
pause to absorb the fact that I have just finished my first National
Trail, and have also done my first coast to coast walk as well,
though I won't be wandering out into the firth to wet my boots in the
distant channel where the Eden and Esk merge. I'll just watch the
haaf-netters carrying their goalpost nets out into the water far, far
away before my parents turn up, for patted backs and shaken hands and
more posed pictures to prove that I have finished the Hadrian's Wall
Path, meanwhile resisting the urge to plot my way along the further stretches
of the Cumbrian Coast Path to the Roman remains at Maryport and
Ravenglass. A celebratory beverage feels in order, but it seems like
the Kings Arms (featuring Patrick McGoohan as Edward I on its
signage) is not open for business, which seem like a mistake, I'll
assume that we are too early and they will be open past 4pm, in fact
Bowness seems a little unwilling to make a big noise about its status
as the destination on one of the most popular National Trails. Let's
not let that sour the occasion though, another personal triumph has
been achieved, and celebrations can be continued later in Cumwhinton,
with a pint of Landlord at our place, and Steak & Ale pie with
Jennings Bitter for dinner at the Lowther Arms.
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| The Hadrian's Wall Path Completed, at Banks Pavilion, Bowness on Solway |
Next on the Slate: Back
to Kirklees, where un-walked paths still remain.
1,000 Miles Cumulative Total: 1299.6 miles
(2014 total: 386.4 miles)
(Up Country Total: 1204 miles)
(Solo Total: 1084.1 miles)
(Declared Total: 1091.4 miles)
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