Walking the Edge of Empire : Heading to Hadrian’s Wall Path

“The road must eventually lead to the whole world.”

 

Jack Kerouac

Hadrian's Wall 

 

For nearly three centuries, Hadrian’s Wall marked the northern edge of the Roman world. Across the hills of northern England, the frontier stretched from the River Tyne to the Solway Firth, a line of forts, milecastles and turrets that once divided Roman Britannia from the lands beyond.  Today, the wall survives only in fragments - scattered stones, earthworks, and the faint lines of fortifications tracing the ridges of Northumberland. Yet by following its course from coast to coast, it is still possible to walk the very edge of the Roman Empire on Hadrian’s Wall Path National Trail.

With the Time Remaining

 

With only five days remaining before we needed to return to Southampton to board Queen Mary 2 for our voyage home to North America, we decided to spend that time walking this ancient frontier.

 

There is no denying that by the time we reached the eastern edge of England (once again) we were no longer beginning anything in the usual sense of the word.   After completing four national trails in quick succession across the UK, the act of “Setting out” had long lost its novelty. 

 

The routines that typically define the start of a pathway or a journey – such as checking gear, reading the guidebook, checking the maps, and purchasing supplies had been repeated so many times across the past month and a half that they had become automatic and distinctly unremarkable.  Indeed, much of it had become exhausting.

 

We had already walked over the course of almost 50 days, Wainwright’s Coast to Coast, hiked the Pennine Way, continued north along the West Highland Way, and followed that with the length of the Great Glen Way. Each trail had its own character, its own demands, and each had given way to unique experiences for us.   However, being trekked so closely together, they had begun to feel less like separate undertakings and more like a single, extended and ongoing venture. 

 

And so when we arrived at Wallsend, at the mouth of the River Tyne, there was no sense for us of standing at a fresh beginning. Instead, there was more of a feeling that we were simply continuing on - picking up another thread and carrying it forward. 

 

All of which serves as context for how we arrived at, trekked, and ultimately (I think) failed at succeeding on Hadrian’s Wall Path National Trail.

 

Venturing to Newcastle-Upon-Tyne

 

Beyond the simple fact that we were continuing on without much of a break, perhaps the most unexpected part of this next stage was our decision to walk Hadrian’s Wall at all.

 

It was a trail that had always interested us, but not one we had necessarily imagined fitting into this particular journey. We had long suspected that Hadrian’s Wall Path might be busier and more tourist-focused than the routes we usually gravitate toward. At the same time, its history, its landscape, and the idea of walking the former northern frontier of the Roman Empire had always held a certain appeal.

 

In the end, though, our decision was shaped less by romance than by practicality. We had five days remaining before we needed to return to Southampton to board Queen Mary 2 for our westbound transatlantic voyage home, and Hadrian’s Wall Path seemed just short enough to fit the time we had left. Looking back, that was perhaps just another sign that we had chosen this trail in the wrong way. It was not that Hadrian’s Wall was unworthy of those final days. Quite the opposite. It was that we were already tired, already moving too quickly, and already trying to make the remaining time do too much.

 

As we left Scotland after completing the Great Glen Way, an advertisement in the train station seemed oddly appropriate for what came next: “There are no wrong turns, only unexpected destinations.” At the time, it felt like a pleasant enough travel slogan. In retrospect, it may have been more accurate than we realized.

 

Reaching Newcastle-upon-Tyne required a long day on Britain’s trains and bus lines. By the time we arrived, it was late, and the city seemed to be in the midst of a full-scale celebration. Navigating the streets toward our accommodation, we passed crowds of women dressed in bright pink and men costumed as cowboys, though more in the style of Woody from Toy Story than John Wayne or Clint Eastwood. It was not quite the low-key arrival to the coastal city one might imagine.  Certainly, it was definitely not what we expected.

 

Still, amid the noise, neon, costumes, and late-night revelry, we eventually found our hotel - one of the few places available that was not charging more than two hundred pounds for the night. We picked up groceries, sorted what little needed sorting, and promptly fell asleep.

 

Tomorrow morning would see us set out once again, this time along the edge of an empire.

 

See you on the Trail!