The weather forecast had been threatening storms and rain for this day, and the real thing didn’t disappoint. There was a truly ferocious west wind, courtesy of Storm Hector.
My choice to go west-to-east, against the direction in most guidebooks, was looking rather smart as I bowled along only just keeping my balance, while other walkers (mostly serious-looking Germans and Dutch) were fighting their way westward with gritted teeth and firmly battened-down cagoules. Fortunately the rain came in short showers, and with a warm wind that would have given the Dyson Airblade an inferiority complex I was never damp for long.
After a brief but unforgiving upward pull from Beggarbog back to the trail on the sill edge, I reached Sewingshields Crag which is perhaps the most airy and vertiginous part of the trail. Certainly, with a gale blowing it seemed sensible to Mind the Gap.
Soon the terrain became gentler and I arrived at the remains of Brocolitia fort and its cute little temple to Mithras, with some interesting carved stones. Mithras is very much the soldier’s deity, an all-male cult with macho trimmings such as bull-slaying, so it’s no surprise to find a Mithraeum just outside a fort.
Down into Chollerford, past Chesters fort (another passport stamp) and road maintenance crews clearing up fallen trees, then on to the excellent trucker’s and walker’s café, just beside the bridge, which provided a fine home-made meat pie. It must have been good – a young couple at an adjacent table were feeding one to their year-old baby who was very obviously enjoying it.
Beyond Chollerford the trail is much less spectacular. There are few Roman vestiges other than the ever-present ditch and vallum, and the scenery is much gentler. Along with the fine moorland vistas, there are occasional reminders that history around here isn’t exclusively Roman.
In truth the easier field walking was extremely welcome, because my blisters were becoming really uncomfortable. I was able to keep up a steady 3mph for the whole of the remaining 11 miles, by far the fastest progress since Monday. The path hugs the B6318 and there are endless reminders of how much more there is to do.
At 6pm I reached the Robin Hood Inn at East Wallhouses, had a pint, and once again left without remembering to stamp my passport. Then a weary but easy 3-mile slog up a side road to tonight’s stay in Stamfordham and a nightcap in the Swinburne Arms nearby – a true village local so intriguing that I not only took a snap but also recorded some of the fabulous Geordie accents in the bar.
