LEJOG Day 59: Once Brewed to Wark

Weather: Cloudy and warm, with strong breeze

Distance covered today: 17.9km (11.1mi)

Last night's B&B: Twice Brewed Inn (£34)

Cumulative distance: 1176.8km (731.2mi)/ % Complete: 61.5%

GPS satellite track of today's route: Day 59 (click!)

Such a contrast in just a few minutes!  One minute I was continuing my journey along Hadrian’s Wall, accompanied by numerous fellow travellers, including foreign tourists and school groups, with the bustle of a busy road below and behind us, dogs barking and the incredible wall itself to look at. The next minute, I turned off the wall to follow the Pennine Way northwards and within seconds, I was enveloped in complete and solitary silence. For the next few hours, I didn’t see or hear another human being. I was accompanied only by the birds, especially the larks, with this time a lonely cuckoo somewhere in the distance. I was heading for a cultivated forest, which I expected to be, and which turned out to be just as lonely. It is the biggest forest in the UK, and there are hardly any people there, so it’s not surprising I didn’t see any!

At breakfast this morning in the Twice Brewed Inn (Twicey for short!), I noticed that the clientele were different to the Pennine Wayers in previous establishments. For a start their walking footwear was less robust. They seemed somehow more erudite and were poring over fat books and talking quietly and with the confidence of the self-assured. Clearly, the folk who do the Hadrian’s Wall walk are not like us Pennine Wayers! We are an altogether more brutish clan. When we can, we get away much earlier and breakfast is a rushed affair and an impediment to progress. Our brows are lower and our determination greater. And then of course, there are the wild, staring eyes of the LEJOGers, though here my description fails, because I have yet to set eyes on another of the species, so I have only my own incipient madness to dwell on!

Anyway, it was in fact a relief to get away from the madding throng. At first, I felt that I might be returning to outer space, but the way was this time much more mundane and in fact rather difficult underfoot. I was walking through wet and very boggy moorland, where I had to be careful of every second footfall, lest I again submerge myself in foul and evil-smelling bog. That made progress slow and difficult. I had hoped that by the time I reached the trees, the going would improve, but it did not, and in fact it remained difficult for the whole of my journey after leaving Hadrian’s Wall.

My slow progress did allow time for reflection. The sense of having left civilisation behind was much stronger today; a combination of both the bustle of Twice Brewed and Hadrian’s Wall itself as the last barrier against the barbarians of the north! I had this sensation many times on my trips to Eastern Russia. I would leave Moscow or Seoul and head for isolated cities in that very isolated land and I would have a strange sense of anticipatory dread. The anticipation was for all the new and interesting experiences that I knew would be coming my way. The dread was because I knew that there would be situations where I was not in control and which could be unpleasant, such as extreme climate, poor facilities or bad food. It was always a case of taking the rough with the smooth and without a doubt, I wouldn’t trade those experiences for the more conventional, given the choice again.

One of my early trips involved a journey to the city of Khabarovsk in a chartered Russian jet to celebrate the 75th anniversary of the building of a refinery. I was one of the VIP guests and as such was sitting in the equivalent of the Business Class seats. Up front in First Class, the berths were occupied by Russian pop stars who were being flown in for the occasion. The press and company employees were all in steerage at the back. I was interested and amused to discover that the airliner’s accommodation arrangements hadn’t changed since Soviet times. In those days, party grandees would have travelled up front, party officials in the middle and the rest in the rear. So much for the classless society!

In Khabarovsk, I endured endless speeches, all interpreted by the excellent and very attractive Victoria (Vika for short), who felt it her duty to whisper in my ear her translation of every word of every speech, despite the fact that they were all saying almost exactly the same thing. I was of course suffering from acute jetlag (Khabarovsk was 11 hours ahead of London) and was having great difficulty keeping my eyes open as I bent over to my left to hear what Vika was saying. It had to happen! I fell asleep and woke to find Vika gently lifting my head out of her attractive cleavage which had cushioned my descent! I’m afraid there is nothing one can say to extract oneself from a hole of those dimensions, but Vika soldiered on and eventually we became good friends! The other thing I remember from that endless celebration was that all the company pensioners were seated in the best seats and were treated as the stars of the show, a practice which I now feel most strongly should be emulated by western companies! The CEO gave out a few new 4X4s as rewards for long-service or good performance, and only later did I realise that in that part of Russia, there could be no finer gift.

The following day, a great river boat was hired and we had a huge party on the Amur River, while the pop stars belted out their songs. At one point we were going under a bridge, and there was a wedding party making its way across the bridge above us. The bride suddenly recognised the pop star singing at the time, and started throwing her flowers and then indeed some of her delicates down onto the boat. It was explained to me that this was a typical reaction to this particular star, who, I have to say, didn’t really do it for me, but then I am hardly a blushing bride! I wonder what her new husband thought of the practice?

That night, I slept in a boarding house where the mattresses were solid boards with a sheet over them. By the time I made my last trip to Khabarovsk, that boarding house had become a very acceptable little hotel, better than many of the establishments that have welcomed me on this journey. As I said, rough with the smooth!

Which brings me back to Hadrian, his wall and the desolation beyond. I was pleased to get to my B&B this evening. For some reason, I felt very tired today. I suppose it is partly to do with the next few days. I have a short day tomorrow, a rest day to follow, and then the two most difficult days of my journey to date. That old anxiety is beginning to return…..

Fox-gloves are beginning to appear all over

Hadrian's Wall was still very much part of the Pennine Way as the day started

Apparently, it took 1 million cubic metres of stone to build the wall, and it was completed in 6 years

One of the forts along the wall

Looking down at a loch from the wall as it climbs over the Whin Sill

Looking back at the wall along the top of the Whin Sill. On the right is the highest point on the wall and the position from which I took the shot of the Cheviot yesterday

The wall has many admirers at all times of the day. I met this lot just as I was about to turn left and head off into the wilderness

I was repeatedly buzzed by Eurofighters of the RAF. It is really hard to catch them in a photo, let alone shoot them down!

Looking back at the wall as it starts to disappear into the distance. Even in its much reduced state it is still an enormously impressive barrier

I might not yet be in Scotland, but that doesn't deter this thistle!

Heading out across the wet grass moors. This was exceptionally slow going, with each step potentially hazardous. The guidebook said the path would be difficult to find, but I didn't have a problem today

Lunchtime in a little enclosed sheep shelter with a few stunted trees. Very pleasant, nevertheless, and protected from the strong wind

Miles and miles and miles of forest

My host for tonight, complete with Westie scarf!!