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Hadrian's Wall Walk: Final Day.

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 21^st 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.

Hadrian's Wall Walk: Day Two.

Day two was always predicted to be the most challenging. Also the most scenic, and the most clearly all about the wall.

We started out with a full team but only 8 of us managed to complete the full distance, a very hilly 26 miles. Old injuries started to manifest themselves for people as the pounding of feet on earth and rock persisted – hips, ankles, feet, toes and knees.

Although day one had only left us with a brief glimpse of The Wall, we never left it on day two. The walk started off reasonably gently, following rolling hills through farmland, with energy still in the tank to stop for an occasional posed shot.

It seemed to be built thicker in lower areas where there were fewer natural defenses.

Group dynamics sorted themselves out as the morning progressed. Those who were less confident in their ability tended to want to be pace setters early on, pushing themselves forward at the front of the group. My height and shape meant I was fortunate enough to be able to cruise along at the back with a colleague who has a lot of hiking experience, bringing up the rear and calling ahead to the leaders if the group started to split up too much.

As the only one with a video camera, I was also the default videographer, sporadically jumping to the front to capture the (variable) expressions on peoples’ faces. I didn’t make many friends from this endeavour.

Not being one to feel guilty about indulging in sugary food, it was nevertheless good to know that I was burning up all the calories I was ingesting. It’s amazing that I still have teeth left though.

After 10 miles or so we hit the ‘real’ hills. Which timed out nicely with the onset of heavy rain.

The limestone slabs were steep and like wet soap in places as the rain came down. There were some slips and slides, but those who went down were fortunate enough not to damage anything.

Once down, it wasn’t always easy to get back up, but the benefits of walking poles came into their own.

The RAF rescue helicopter was never too far away, which was comforting in its own way.

There were forts every mile built at the same time as the wall (122 AD), and castles from a different millennium entirely (1200 AD)

You always know you are at the highest point in an area when walking in England as ‘trig points' (the stone obelisk, used for surveying) are in evidence:

The wild scenery was the star of the day for me. In some places we were walking on the top of the wall itself, not great if you suffer from vertigo, but the views were memorable.

For the second day the sun disappeared behind us as we marched on, all struggling in different ways with the challenge. Some had very specific injuries but mind over matter came into play and they pushed on through.

The last four or five miles were in darkness as we came down from the hills, a collection of head torch lights bobbing expectantly along the road in anticipation of first sight of the waiting bus.

Stats:

26 miles

53,185 steps

2165 kcal

Hadrian's Wall Walk: Day One.

The night before day one, the team gathered at Silloth on the Solway Firth, with Scotland rising on the other side of the water. I caught sight of my first offshore windfarm way out west on the horizon, an impressive and uplifting spectacle. Menus for the following days were discussed over drinks but nervous trepidation about the scale of the walk was the most pervasive topic.

The morning of day one we loaded ourselves into the bus and had a camera face-off on the way to the official starting point.

We unloaded, adjusted gear, had a motivational talk, stretched half-heartedly and, for want of anything better to do, started walking.

The first stage was following the Solway Firth for about 10 miles to Carlisle. The land is flat and low lying. Fortunately we caught it at low tide.

There wasn’t much of a welcoming committee.

Navigation was easy and in characteristically Roman fashion the track was straight as an arrow.

Civilisation – and temptation – was never far from view, so although the pub was just about resisted, the ice creams from the local post office were not to be ignored. At this point, with clear skies and a comfortable pace, it didn’t feel like hardship.

We passed through Carlisle around lunchtime and headed east out of the town. The route wasn’t always particularly scenic.

It was good to see that the Cotswolds theme of strange historical buildings in random locations continued unabated.

Thanks to several pre-agreed stops with the support vehicle, snacks were welcome and plentiful.

Animal encounters were frequent and varied. They ranged from the small of stature, big of heart:

to the plain old big of stature.

I became the cowboy of the team as everyone quickly realised I was the only one naïve enough to face down some of the bigger looking beasts blocking the path. This one was standing on the bridge protecting its calf, so I was sent in as negotiator. It’s good to feel valued (or should that be expendable?).

The afternoon wore on, the sun passed over our heads and started to disappear behind us. Fatigue started to manifest itself as the reality what everyone had signed up to began to hit home. The body language at this last pitstop for the day says it all.

Talk of hot baths was popular, but the reality was nothing but a mirage. Or just desperate attempts at visual humour.

Almost 30 miles in and we finally found a bit of Hadrian’s well-organised stones. At that point in the day it was about as exciting as a bit of old wall could be, but symbolic nonetheless.

The support vehicle was provided by our hospital patient transport service from London, so the drivers were ambulance men - handy for first aid. It was also a welcome sight at the end of day one to see the vivid yellow of his jacket and know the bus wasn’t too far away.

All in all the first day was great for the team to find its collective pace and to take in the magnitude of the distances involved. A mile can go quickly or last an age depending on perception, attitude, fitness, stature, stamina, footwear, air pressure, time of day, amount of chocolate ingested, etc. Blisters were plentiful for some and non-existent for others, but the diversity of people and the singularity of objective kept everyone going. It was only day one. That evening was considerably more subdued than the previous.

Stats:

29.6 miles

55,600 steps

2360 kcal