Friday, 5 September 2014

Hadrian's Wall Path #6: Eden Bridge to Bowness on Solway 04/09/14

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

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.

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.

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.

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?

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.

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.


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.
 
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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