The focus of day three, other than putting one foot in front of the other, was getting into, and out of, the city of Newcastle in the far north east of the country. It’s a telling measure of tiredness that the number of photographs being taken reduced to precisely nil once we passed the centre of the city, only increasing for a flurry of shutter action when we hit the finishing line and could relax again. Pain and fatigue were written on each face and the challenge finally got challenging, easily trumping day two after all.
The morning was left to the team doing the full distance, but even some of these were forced to drop out, only rejoining the walk with the 'half distance' team for the stages through Newcastle and beyond, to the final point at which Hadrian felt a wall was necessary to keep out those intimidating Scots.
Although it had rained heavily overnight we only had minor showers during the course of the day. The wet ground and humidity certainly improved the beauty of the landscape, if not the purchase of boot on sodden grass.
The hills, whilst not on the scale of day two, were still worthy of occasional stops. I’m never quite sure what to make of these optical illusion shots where I appear to be twice the size of everyone else.
Despite the fatigue, opportunities for visual gags were still acted on.
It was difficult to tell if this mascot had been placed deliberately or had liberated itself from someone’s backpack.
The closer we got to Newcastle, the more entrepreneurial the locals became. Neither of these two enterprises were sufficiently appealing to tempt us.
Despite the wall being less in evidence, there was no escaping the remains of those ancient Italian invaders.
As we started to hit the outskirts of Newcastle itself, the remains were of a more recent period of history.
For the Newcastle stage both teams melded, all individuals determined to cross the finishing line together and do what we all came to do.
I had switched from my heavier walking boots of the first two days to my most recent REI purchase, which are softer and slightly better suited to walking on asphalt (here's another 'tall person' perspective for you).
Sadly Gail’s trusty pedometer chose its moment to unclip itself from my belt whilst going through some undergrowth before Newcastle and was lost to the world. Suddenly I was without statistics of steps, calories and miles to constantly be impressed by. Fortunately a colleague had a fancy walking GPS with him which kept us informed of mileage, ascent, humidity, location and any other stats we craved in order to take our mind off the walking.
Newcastle itself started to wrap itself around us, with its terraced houses, old industry, and diverse bridges.
There was no doubt by this stage that the distance was taking its physical toll.
We knew the Tyne river that runs through the centre was rather polluted, but if plastic ducks were the only water fowl that could survive, we decided the pollution must be pretty severe.
[JTH moment]
By the time we hit the very centre, fatigue was all-pervasive. Most people had lost feeling in all or part of their feet, and one strategy was to try and get blood to run back up the body. I’m not sure what the locals thought of our methods of sightseeing.
Early afternoon turned into late afternoon, and those persistent shadows elongated for a third successive day.
We walked through the epicentre of the city, with its tastefully thought out mixture of old industrial and 21st Century architecture.
The business people on the quay sitting outside their bistros gave us some strange looks, perhaps because we weren’t the epitome of professional cool.
The geographical goal of the entire walk had been focused on getting to Newcastle. What had not been made explicit was the six miles of walking once we had passed the city centre. Many found the walk out of the town - following the Tyne as it rapidly became night - very demoralising, but team determination was an unstoppable force and pain and fatigue became secondary.
After an age, we finished with the sight of a small welcoming party of some family members and brightly clad support crew. The official end of the wall has a museum built around it, which was closed at 8pm. We approximated as best we could, but the pitch blackness meant it was never going to be a grandiose finish. In the end, it was just a joyous moment for all concerned, particularly for those who had overcome physical injury or had started the challenge having not walked more than a few miles in one go before.
At a personal level I found it tiring, but just felt lucky enough to have very little upper body weight and long legs, so I always had more energy and more speed available to tap into if I had needed it. My feet didn’t suffer from blisters and my knee and hip joints didn’t cause any issues. On day one we worked out that the shortest member of the group had walked 77,000 steps to my 55,000 – almost a third more steps than me. Apply that to the whole walk and, using my stride, she’d have probably finished in Belgium. Impressive.
Stats:
29 miles
?? steps
?? kcal
(May Gail’s pedometer find a new and happy home in Newcastle!)
Once again, enormous thanks to everyone who sponsored me – with the match funding from the company and offline donations, the team have raised just under £10,000 for the two charities, which makes the three days of madness absolutely worthwhile.
