Hadrian’s Wall: Newton Arlosh to Monkhill. Stay away from reed-beds.

Day 3;

After a night sleeping in a fluffy blanket and pillows I made a breakfast of cheese omelette in the microwave (first time using one so I pressed random buttons till it worked) and packed

Set off 9:15 with the good hope, despite the rain, that I would be on the path proper today. I stopped to visit the fortified (against the Scots) church in Newton Arlosh, with its rooftop battlements and door so narrow I had to leave my bag outside.

A road, a railway bridge, and a footpath led me steadily on past a concrete stone circle and sodden hay bales, thankful again I had brought my leather boots, yet unknowingly heading to the next big disaster.

As I came to the end of a field, a complete lack of exits worried me, I decided to head up the side but to no avail so returned. Given my guide book described passing a thatchers reedbed, and my bearing headed that way too, I decided it best to clamber over the close gate Into a field full of reeds. Apparent footpaths through the reeds encouraged me I had made the right decision, so I continued following tracks as i found them through the reeds, heading the right direction. Soon though the reeds become taller and denser, and having seen an obvious path through the boundary across streams to the next reed bed, i followed. Yet after a while this deceptive path all but disappeared and I found myself thrashing my way forward as the reeds grew taller and taller and denser. I was soon panicking, completely trapped and with nothing in sight but the closed beds. Calling i fought my way to the edge falling over great walls of reed and dredging water in my boots. Then like the clouds opening to the sun, the reeds cleared. I rushed along the less dense path and it opened up and to my greatest relief saw the sight of the ww2 bunkers ahead- I was fearing unbreakable hedges and barbed fences. Falling to my knees in relief, I knew I was out. I may not be one for believing in things, but I felt my cries had been smiled on.

Sticking determinedly to the track I made my way into Kirkbride, and turned up the road. But trudging these also turned deceptive; Having backtracked repeatedly to find the right way i had little hope the bridge at the end of a long bridleway that the book discussed over the river would be in existence. but having found no news articles of its collapse online (from the shelter of Angerton church porch) I put my faith in the bridle way and sure enough was soon singing to the bridge in the distance.

I crossed - a bit overgrown but open, and headed along the road to soon exit onto a lane I judged to be mine. This too - to my thankful surprise- turned out to be trustworthy and led me slowly and straight towards Drumburgh (and the trail) through the nature reserve of Drumburgh Moss: far more pleasant than the marshes of yesterday I had compared it to with dread. As the rain had stopped I gave myself the treat of putting in my headphones, my podcast making the long straight kms for more bearable.

In Drumburgh I found to my delight a self service tea room, with two Austrian walkers inside- it is wonderful to find others after being completely alone: gives me the assurance I will no longer be bashing through unwalked paths!

After two cups of tea, I strode on east, surprised by the progress I made in the new 25,000 map. This road ran straight over marsh of the same type -though far smaller- as yesterday’s. I surveyed the view walking along the defensive bank, Scotland clearly visible through the haze; occasionally ducking under Hawthorn branches. Boustead Hill junction lent me the kindly constructed use of a sheltered bench. How I pity the Roman mercenaries sent to guard the western end of the frontier. This road was Long and straight and the kms unfurled slowly.

I passed through Burgh by Sands, with regular rests at available benches, and visited the church. This building is made in part of Wall stone and held the body of Edward I after his death nearby.

I continued along the road, the last miles really tolling on my feet, though I felt far less tired comparably to yesterday. Finally summiting the rise of Monk Hill I arrived at my campsite, to a warm welcome from the owner. I quickly removed my boots- finding large blisters under my right big toe, had a tour of the building, put up my tent as the rain arrived again, then sat in the lovely comforting room chatting. I got shower, wash of my clothes, and overlong discussion with a fellow camper, before I managed to get some food inside me - I decided against visiting the pub (despite its apparent excellence) on tiredness. Rebooking tomorrow’s camp hopefully means the day will be far more enjoyable - it would be hard not to after the last few days! I am enjoying the coziness of this camp and avoiding thinking of the tent.

I had a later night than usual, sitting in the armchair reading one of the books on the Romans.