Out of Thin Air: Walking the Wall: Day Two, Carlisle to Walton

This summer, my husband, four friends and I walked the English Heritage Trail that follows Hadrian's Wall. We began in the far west, at Bowness-on-Sol and walked east with the prevailing winds at our back. Our first day took us 15 miles, to the town of Carlisle.

Day 2 was going to be a shorter hike: just 12 1/2 miles. This section the path went through farmland, and there was very little stone evidence of the Wall. This part of England has more sandstone than limestone, and it is softer and disintegrates more readily. Like in both the far west and the far east, much of the wall was pulled down by later generations, who used the stone in their own building projects. However, we did get to see some raised foundations on occasion, and often saw evidence of the vallum, the huge earthwork that ran along the south side of the Wall.

Because this section of the trail is very rural, we picked up lunch supplies at a grocery store in Carlisle before we set out. It was raining fairly hard as we were leaving Carlisle, and this caused a bit of difficulty. We needed to cross town to join the trail, and google maps was not very helpful in showing me which routes were just for cars and which routes were pedestrian friendly, nor did it show where fences barred the way. The rain didn't help, either. Every time a raindrop hit my phone's screen, the arrow jumped to it and I lost track off where I was! We added a little bit to what was supposed to be a short day by backtracking several times before we managed to get to the trail.

A riverside path took us along the banks of the River Eden until we reached Memorial Bridge, where we crossed and entered Rickerby Park. We passed a War Memorial before we left the park and entered the countryside. Like many of the monuments in Britain, both the bridge and the memorial are dedicated to the fallen of the First World War. This is a testament to how devastating that war was to the country, where approximately 880,000 men died. That amounts to 6% of the adult male population and 12.5% of those who were serving. In comparison, Britain lost only . 384,000 soldiers in World War Two.

We followed the path past Carlisle Airport and many farms. The guidebook noted that one stretch, named Sandy Lane should have been named Clarty Lane, the word clarty being a local term for muddy. In one field there was the remains of an old tower, but the guidebook didn't provide any more information that the words "tower in field" to explain what it was. I fancied it an old outpost from the Norman era, looking for marauders coming down from Scotland.

As we neared Bleatarn Farm, the trail was slightly raised and arrow-straight. We were walking on the old Roman road! Bleatarn Farm is the site of an old Roman quarry. Its name mean Blue (blea) pond (tarn), and the pond that's mostly silted up is believed to once hold the fish used to feed the soldiers working in the quarry. Walking over history like this is eerie. I'm glad I had a guidebook that pointed out the shape of the landscape or I might never have noticed what I was walking through.

The little town of Newton had an honesty-box snack shed that carried sandwiches and soups in addition to the usual cookies, chocolate bars, and drinks. We didn't eat there, but we did shelter from a squall that passed through, and we were grateful for the hospitality.

Walton was only was only a little ways beyond Newton. It is a small town, and it was difficult to find room for six hikers there. We stayed in the Sandysike Bunkhouse, a converted stable that had four bunk beds in a single room. It also had a little room with a fireplace, a kitchen, and a bathroom with a shower, toilet, and sink. The farm had a little more upscale accomodations, but they didn't sleep 6.

Our accommodations weren't plush by any means, but they were cozy, and it was fun to meet the family who lived in the farmhouse. Diccon, the farmer, drove us into Walton and proudly pointed out that the gate in front of the village church was paid for by his grandfather. His twin toddlers were a delight to see mucking about the farmyard in their tiny wellies, and their dogs came and visited us in the bunkhouse. Dicon's father, Richard, enjoyed telling us stories about the old days.

And because it was my husband and my anniversary (45 years!) we stopped at The Old Vicarage Brewery for a celebration pint. They have a bed and breakfast, and offer dinners and packed lunches to people who stay with them.