So Where The Fuck Is Hadrian's Wall?
You know how it is.
Sometimes no matter how hard you try you just can't find the thing that you want.
Well, today was one of those days.
We set out this morning planning a simple day. A day exploring somewhere we had never been before and had always wanted to visit.
For those of you that don't know or understand what or where Hadrian and his wall are then let me explain.
According to Wikipedia, Hadrian's Wall is “a former defensive fortification of the Roman province of Britannia, begun in AD122 in the reign of Emperor Hadrian. Running from Wallsend on the River Tyne in the east to Bowness-on-Solway in the west of what is now northern England.”
In other words, it is an old Roman wall that was built around 1,900 years ago to keep out the rampaging Scottish tribes and is still there should you want to get out into the countryside and find it.
And in our case, being based in Northumberland for a while, that was exactly what we wanted to do. We decided to find a part of the wall relatively local to where we were staying to visit, learn and hopefully a create a photo opportunity or two.
A little online research suggested that a place called Corbridge had strong Roman connections. It sounded like a lovely old historic market town and, according to the details I read, was close to the wall.
Well, it turns out that some parts of that are correct.
It is a lovely little town. Quaint old streets, beautiful houses, a stunning old bridge across a very fast flowing River Tyne and a few interesting, independent shops with the sort of prices perhaps better suited to London rather than Northumberland. But still an interesting and historic place to visit.
And I should mention that it was full of old people.
As in, people much older than us. So really old people.
Always worth noting.
But the part they got wrong was that it was not on Hadrian's Wall.
They had the remains of a Roman villa, which we walked out to explore, but nothing else. And as the remains were run by English Heritage they wanted a significant amount of money just to walk through the gate.
So, it was back to the car and on the road to find a real piece of the wall.
A little more research and we had a post code and set off.
Half an hour on the road and almost there and I noticed a brown sign. To Vindolanda.
Now, I've heard of Vindolana before and I thought, yes, its a place that is on the wall, I know it is, I've read about it. So we diverted and followed the signs through little country lanes and up into the Northumberland National Park.
Feeling happier, we drove along a long, single track lane and arrived in a very quiet car park. No hanging around, straight out of the car and into the reception area where we got a warm welcome. Not sure if it was English Heritage this time but it was smartly presented and they clearly wanted to charge us to visit.
Smiling, the woman asked whether we wanted single tickets or tickets that included access to another museum further along the road.
No, I said, we just want to visit the wall, that's all.
And how we laughed when she told us in a slightly amused way that Vindolanda was actually a Roman fort and was not on the wall at all. She very kindly shared with us the name of a car park not far away where we would be able to see the wall but no, there was no wall where we were.
Back to the car, a little more frustrated than before, but we found a new postcode online and were off, again, on our search for the elusive wall.
Only 73 miles long yet could we find it? Not even close so far.
Following the Sat Nav is always full of risk. It took us along yet more small country lanes and then, of course, I managed to miss the turning. It was becoming that sort of day. A mile and a half along the road before I could turn around but I managed it eventually, with just a few swear words, and soon returned, turning into the road as advised.
Except, it was a road to a boarding house. There was no car park and no Hadrian’s Wall.
Of course there wasn’t.
A quick knock on a door and we got new directions. Left onto the main road and the car park was on the left.
And of course, yes, you guessed, it wasn't there either. There was a left turn but the signage was sadly lacking.
However, we found the car park eventually, hidden away on top of a hill at the end of yet another lane.
We stopped, parked, paid and started walking. Still no sign of an old Roman wall.
But that was soon to change.
A walk along a path, through a gate marked National Trust, Steel Rigg and then face to face with the most spectacular view.
Hills. Cliff faces with rubble and scree. A glacial lake, Crag Lough, peeking out from the outcrop in the distance. And curving its way along the path and up onto the imposingly steep hill, there was Hadrian's Wall.
We walked and explored. The wind was blowing, it was chilly for an August afternoon and it was wonderful. We had to navigate what seemed like an almost vertical set of steep steps up the cliff face at the very start of the walk but we made it. I had to stop half way and let those younger and fitter than me go past, When I did reach the top and found a queue of maybe 10 or more people waiting for me so that they could come down, well, let’s just say that my language was a little expressive!
We found a milecastle, a small Roman fort built into the wall every mile, and also the famous Sycamore Gap, without the Sycamore sadly these days. Both iconic of Hadrian’s Wall in their own ways.
A couple of hours walking and plenty of climbing was not for the feint hearted. But somehow, after all of our searching and with our rather dubious levels of research (my responsibility), it felt somehow appropriate that our day concluded with an element of hard labour. Pleasurable of course, but physically hard none the less.
We learned some lessons, of course, and my irritation mixed with the embarrassment of a rather obvious eye roll from the receptionists at Vindolanda will be remembered for a while. But perhaps my over riding memory will not be any of this or the spectacular views or the terrifying climb up the cliff face. It is far more likely to be my frustrated cry of “so where the fuck is Hadrian’s Wall?” as we drove through yet more winding lanes in the wild Northumberland countryside.
