Travel Biography - Week 117.

During 1998, I had three holidays, the main one to New York and Boston, then two more in the UK, a hike along the Hadrian's Wall trail, and an attempt to cycle from home to the Welsh town of Llangollen, where, 36 years earlier in 1962, I stayed in a hostel hired out to primary schools (children under 11 years of age) during the annual school two-week summer trip shortly before the end of summer term. I'll write about the attempted cycle ride to Llangollen next week.

Preparation - and delay of the Hadrian's Wall Hike, 1998.

The construction of the Wall began in AD 122 under Emperor Hadrian to form the northern border of the Roman Empire and a defence against the Caledonians. The exposed masonry is 73 miles (117.5 km) running east-west across northern England, passing over the Pennines. The trail is 84 miles long (135 km) of which we covered 67 miles (108 km) between the city centres of Carlisle and Newcastle-upon-Tyne. 

Had I been alone, I would have hiked the whole trail, starting at Bowness-on-Solway on the Irish Sea coast and heading eastward, passing through Newcastle upon Tyne to end at Wallsend, just a little way inland from the North Sea coast of Tyne-and-Wear. But I wasn't alone. Instead, I was with two other friends from our church, Tim and Daniel. It was Dan who thought up the 5-day hike but left the booking of all overnight accommodation to me.

Dan (left) and Tim.

Carlisle Castle.

Dan and Tim plan the Hike at a Roman Fort.

River Eden flows to the Irish Sea.

Tim was (and still is) an accountant who dealt with the taxation of my window-cleaning income, while Dan is a financial advisor who takes care of private pensions. Although both were - and still are - suited pen-pushers, it's a credit to them that they welcomed me as one of a group of three, perhaps due to my past experience in hiking. But as the journey commenced, it eventually became apparent that I was physically the weakest of the three. Not only that I was also the eldest, but both Tim and Dan at the time were regular players of a football team in a local league. The two also regularly played each other at squash - a racquet sport on a closed court - and I watched some of their games from the spectator's balcony. Therefore, in 1998, these two were in their prime of fitness.

The date and location of the start and finish were decided by Dan with Tim's agreement. Furthermore, the week's break was originally scheduled for early Autumn of 1997, a few weeks after I landed at Heathrow Airport from the Round-the-World trip. But on Friday, September 19th 1997, I had an accident at work. I was standing on a roofed porch over the front door of a two-storey house to clean a window directly above it. At that moment, both my feet slid over the one row of tiles made damp by recent drizzle. I fell off the roof and landed on the concrete path below. I broke my right clavicle bone, and one of my ribs, and cut the skin over my cranium, causing non-stop bleeding. I had to stay off work for two months after spending a week at Royal Berks Hospital as an in-patient after a neighbour called the ambulance.

Due to such an unforeseen incident, Dan and Tim agreed to cancel all bookings and postpone the hike until I had fully recovered. I thought that was very good of them. They could have easily proceeded without me. I couldn't return to work for the next two months and only did so after receiving clearance from the hospital consultant. But it took a further five months before I was fit enough and ready for the hike. Hence, we set off at the end of April 1998 - two months before flying off to New York in early July.

Thus, the Hadrian's Wall hiking break is the only holiday that is not in proper chronological order with this Biography as all the others - as the hike was completed before I flew out to New York to avoid the football. By contrast, the aforementioned attempted cycle ride to Llangollen was taken after returning from Boston - and it's in proper chronological order.

Tim at the Wall.

I stand at the Wall.

Dan by a Roman fort.

Further on, we arrive at another fort.

Setting Off to the Wall.

It was a short walk from my apartment to Tim's house. He was married to Sharon, and Dan to Debbie, but neither wife accompanied us. I was the unmarried one, free and single. Three young(ish) men set on an adventure. Dan arrived, and we all piled into his car. He was the leader of the group, despite that it was I who booked the accommodation - YHA Kendal, Greenhead, Once Brewed, Barrasford, and a hotel in Newcastle city centre, after discovering that the YHA Newcastle was overbooked.

Dan drove us to Kendal, in Cumbria. As we neared our first destination, we admired the mountain splendour of the Lake District from a distance. Eventually, we found the hostel and we checked in.

The small dormitory was one of several bedrooms in this 300-year-old Georgian townhouse, and ours had six beds arranged as three bunk bed units. Dan and Tim each slept on the higher bed while I chose the lower bed of the third unit. The other three beds remained unoccupied. But why such details?

In the middle of the night, I woke up suddenly and let out a loud yelp. Then I fell silent as the other two apparently slept. However, as I was lying face down on the bed, I could swear that a hand was resting on my buttocks. Believing that it was Dan comforting me after the yelp, I felt relieved by the financial advisor's act of compassion. Yet, for some reason, I didn't turn around to thank him, as if kept from doing so.

The next morning, I apologised to both Tim and Dan for the disturbance. Tim slept through it and heard nothing. But Dan was woken up and acknowledged the incident. However, he denied resting his hand on my buttocks.

It was later that I read that one of the bedrooms of the Georgian townhouse was reputed to be haunted by a former resident who died there. Could I have had a paranormal encounter? If so, then why was I the catalyst, yet neither of my friends?

We headed for Carlisle. In the city centre, close to the castle, Dan parked his car, to be left there for the rest of the trip.

We followed the wall all the way to Newcastle city centre. Of the three, I was the most determined to finish. Our first overnight stop was at YHA Greenhead, a converted Methodist church. The next morning, we set off, following the Wall until we arrived at YHA Once Brewed. These walks were generally uneventful, with rolling countryside without any challenging climbs or descents. Along the Wall, there were remains of forts, each spaced about a Roman mile apart. However, there was one that could be almost classed as a town in its own right - Great Chesters, a chief military fort about 1.5 miles north of the town of Haltwhistle. It's one of the best-preserved Roman sites in the whole of the UK, including hypocausts to heat up the room or the bathhouse above it. Even the latrines are well preserved to the point that we were able to work out how such a system functioned. A constant flow of water passing under the seats washed away all defecation. The ruins showed how advanced the Romans were in both sanitary issues and plumbing.

However, it was the hypocausts that impressed me the most. A large area seemed to have heated a large hall or dining room, that is the Latin triclinium. Another heated the bathhouse or the thermae. Due to my interest in the Roman era dating back to 1973 when I visited Pompeii for the first time, and more recently here in Britain, I always held the Roman bathhouse with intrigue. The average bather first entered the changing room or the apodyterium. He may then enter the tepidarium or a moderated heated room. The hot steam room is the calidarium. He then takes a cold plunge in the frigidarium. Some of the larger suites may feature the laconicum, the dry sweating room equivalent to a sauna today. There is one major difference between a visit to the Roman thermae and today's sauna, and that is in Roman times, the bather had his skin cleansed by using a tool known as a strigil, the cleaning often carried out by a slave.

For the Roman bather, the thermae must have been a relaxing and soothing experience after a stiff workout at the palaestra or exercise yard. My distant ancestors were most likely Romans. If they visited the bathhouse during their day, little wonder that the sauna plays a major part in my pastime some two millennia later!

Great Chesters Roman Fort.

Hypocaust of a Roman Bathhouse.

Hypocaust of a large room.

Latrines, Great Chesters Roman Fort.

After spending some time at Great Chesters, the three of us continued with the hike.

The three of us stayed together as long as the Wall continued with little or no interruptions. However, even before we arrived at YHA Barrasford at the end of the fourth day, the Wall began to peter out, but the dead straight B6318 followed its course into Newcastle. However, we were still a few miles to go before we arrived at Barrasford, and seeing that the Wall was already beginning to peter out, Tim decided to call it a day and agreed to meet us at the hostel after giving hitchhiking a try.

Tim didn't wait long at the roadside before a car halted to let the accountant in. When we were told of the short wait at the hostel, I was surprised. This is the north. It was a far cry from life in the south of England, especially in and around the London area. Down south, a hitchhiker standing by the roadside is more likely to have the police car stop and arrested for vagrancy.

Dan and I continued with the hike. Part of the route was a path that was once a railway route before the car-fanatic Lord Richard Beeching closed many railway branches across the country to promote the use of the car. The disused track-now-footpath gave us a smooth, flat walk towards the hostel, cutting through any mounds and low hills that characterised the surrounding countryside.

Dan and I joined Tim who was waiting for us at the hostel.

Dan and I at Great Chesters.

At the City Welcome Sign.

The Hike ends at the gate of Newcastle.

Newcastle City Centre.

The next morning, Tim decided to stay for a while at Barrasford before boarding the train for a return trip to Carlisle. Dan was ready to accompany him. But I wasn't. My aim was to finish the hike properly. So Dan decided to stay with me rather than return with Tim. We split. Dan and I made for the trail while Tim remained at the hostel.

The last twenty-plus miles were long, boring, and tiring, but I was determined to see the castle surrounded by the city and named after it. After all, the castle was built more recently on one of the Roman forts along the Wall, hence its name. We walked along the long, straight B6318, a single-carriageway relatively free of traffic as it cuts through fields. By early evening, we saw the sign: City of Newcastle upon Tyne. But we still had a long way to go before we arrived at the city centre, with the hike ending at the castle gate itself by nightfall.

We found the hostel nearby. But when we found out that it was overbooked, the receptionist recommended a hotel whose owner he knew. He then made a booking for us at the hotel and showed us where it was. It was good to have our own rooms.

On the next and final day, the two of us made our way to Newcastle Station. Here, Dan took charge and told me to wait while he looked to where to catch the train to Carlisle. He needn't have bothered, as I saw the departure board above. 

Dan! I called out. Our train leaves from platform 6. Quick! We don't have long!

We raced to the waiting train and boarded shortly before it pulled out for Carlisle.

We met Tim waiting for us at Dan's car. After a walk around town to pay a quick visit to Carlisle Castle, we then returned home.

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Next Week: I could have been killed!