Bellingham to Greenhead – mud and Hadrian’s thingy

Packed the tent in the rain. Had two Scotch eggs and a swig of water for breccy and hit the road. 22 miles today up and down hills and through bog from campsite to campsite. Climbing 3,000 feet and descending it too. Goodbye Bellingham – pronounced Bellinjam. Capital of the North Tyne. 

I avoided the waterside loop and cut down the road to the bridge on the Tyne, nobody else there. All mine, all mine, bridge on the Tyne’s all mine. And the sun came out briefly to celebrate my crossing.

The PW (don’t get brassed off at the initials – it saves me time, except on this occasion) climbed uphill and the view back to Bellinjam (sic) was ok. However the (sic) was inappropriate. Well spotted.

There’s some money round here. Look at this place.

Not cheap. Anyroad the road rose with me and dropped down over the other side. The view was dark but pretty good.

 
What was really interesting were the features. This kind of ancient stile over a dry stone wall.

And this tree clinging on to the edge of this river cliff for dear life.

He sun illuminating foliage at the side of Warks Burn.

And the delightful fly agaric, which has strong psychedelic effects. Russian noblemen used to have these boiled and drank the broth. The poor people on the estates would wait for noblemen to exit their halls and pee outside. The poor would scrabble, with bowls, to catch the urine and drink it. The effects were undiluted by passing through people. 

After hours of slog, with wet feet becoming blistersome, the lake below Hadrian’s Wall came into view.

The wall decorated the top of the escarpment it’s built on. An intriguing and enduring display.

There are gaps and I passed through one, looking southward.

Then I had a ten mile walk westwards alongside the wall. There were some great views and I’ll just share a few without commentary.

It was getting late and Maggie rang ahead to the guest house to let them know I’d be late. I was camping in their garden for £7. I legged it as fast as my sore shoulders, legs and soles of my feet would allow, turning up just before 7pm. Pitched the tent. Pub beer and burger. Booked myself in for breakfast tomorrow as well. Great end to an interesting day. In my sleeping bag for nine thirty. 

Night night.