retiredmartin

I’m probably wrong but I thought you’d want to see some pictures of the actual Hadrian’s Wall as well as photos of Northumberland homebrew in gastropubs.

Thursday, Day 3 of our trek, provided the best scenery of the lot.

Quite a short stretch, from Greenhead up to Walltown Crags and back down through the bogs to the A69, for 3 reasons.

Firstly, some of our group were feeling the strain after another half-marathon effort dodging sheep carrying a weeks supplies across the hills on Wednesday.

Mrs RM had, again, knocked off more than 2,032 calories.

Secondly, the rain was set to descend late morning, and we’re not hardcore.

And thirdly, the rather extravagant breakfast (2,033 calories) at the Greenhead Hotel (NBedSS 4.5, NBrkSS 4.5) was weighing us down.

Yes, that black pudding was perfectly cooked. Yes, that pink liquid is smoothie. No, you can’t see the cafetiere of black coffee so strong you could stand your knife up in it. We’d asked for a 7pm breakfast “to beat the rain” which made us sound like right serious walkers, only to then delay getting out while I finished my blog.

Still, we got a head start on the professionals.

Approaching Milecastle 46, it was clear the locals hadn’t forgiven my choice of lamb cutlets the previous night,

but it looked like I had other things to worry about.

The stretch of walking up to Walltown Crags was the highlight of the trip, and not just because of the lack of angry cows.

Actual wall, steep banks, walking on ground that was springy underfoot with views in all directions.

Keep your wide open skies under the Fens !

But then the drizzle started, and the internet faded, and we thought we’d better getter down to the road quick.

And, while I was distracted by trying and failing to buy an extra ticket for End of the Road for September, I directed Mrs RM catastrophically off track onto Peatsteel Crags, a boggy patch of long grass, unexpected streams to hurdle and fallen-down footpath signs, all under the watchful gaze of creatures with horns.

“They’re coming for us !” cried Mrs RM.

Grief, we were only a few hundred feet from the road, a mile from the pub, but you’d have thought we were somewhere remote like Chatteris.

We needed a drink…