Well, that hurt more than I expected but less than I feared.
The 6:35am No.93 bus was on time, and almost empty save for an amiable pair of guys from the Südtyrol, speaking Italian with a pronounced German accent as is the habit there. They walked most of the trail east-to-west last week, but were doing this final stretch the same way as me. By 8am I was at the official trail start, stamping my passport and admiring glorious views across the Solway Firth to Scotland.
The next point of interest is Port Carlisle, which was a busy freight and passenger port until it silted up at the end of the 19th century. I spent so long chatting about it with a friendly dog walker, and then chatting with Gary the trail ranger on his mowing machine, that the Tyroleans caught me up. Here they are saying “hello again” to Gary, who met them a couple of days ago on another of his mowing missions.
Old-school cast iron fingerposts are still widespread in Cumbria. Here’s one on the edge of the Solway Firth.
So far, then, not much in the way of Roman archaeology – all the stone got nicked to build Norman churches like this one at Burgh-by-Sands:
Later, though, there was an interesting Roman moment where a natural slope had been dramatically steepened to form the Vallum:
By the time I’d reached the outskirts of Carlisle at about 12:30, having failed to find a single open pub or cafe after about 11 miles, things were beginning to ache a bit and my last 4 miles were pretty slow. And no, I do not want any smarty-pants reminding me that some training might have been a good idea. Tomorrow I will be cleverer about planning breaks.
Now I’m off to Carlisle bus station on a top-secret side trip. More when I return.