P.W. Day13- Greenhead to Bellingham 22 miles

   I left the bunkhouse just after eight unsure whether I was having a gentle saunter to Once Brewed barely 6.5 miles away or whether I would attempt to get all the way to Bellingham. Today's section includes 900 galling meters of ascent, with no single steady climb but lots of tiny dips and slopes along the Wall. I'd looked forward to Hadrian's Wall from the start but with its many steps and climbs it would challenge me. That said my boots were finally dry and, while my clothes were on the riper side, for the first time in a days I could but them on without cringing.   The finding of the trail should have been a toddle but I got all tangled up within a hundred meters of the starting point. It took twenty minutes to figure it out and actually begin the days walk, a steep climb up a field and along a newer section of the wall. Other walkers were dotted around the landscape with their dogs and kids running ahead. These got more and more frequent as I past the Cockmount Hill Farm, Great Chesters Farm and descended to the car park. 

The Lake in the Flooded Quarry

  A few campers were packing up their belonging in the car pear, I nodded as I past and headed round the old quarry lake to the actual Wall.

Hadrian's Wall- Cawfields Crags

      The winds up on the wall is strong but with the exposure you have views stretching on either side which more than make up for it. There are broad vistas on either side, nothing but farm land to the north and only Military Road and fields to the south. Here and there there are varied routes but only by a few meters and you can cross between them easily enough. Its the sudden dips and climbs that really take their tole and its not very enjoyable with a backpack, especially with people zipping past every few minutes. 
  As I reached Once Brewed I skipped down the slope to Twice Brewed Inn for lunch and buy some snacks before returning to the Wall. The food helped and I found another pair of hikers to pace myself to, overtake and feel smug about. Not the most mature outlook but it kept me going. 
  Ii was with relief that, just past Crag Lough, the sign signalled the Pennine Way was heading north again. You decend for a little while, still one of two walkers passing by, but within another few hundred meters your finally alone again. The slabs guide you through the fields and over the bridges until you reach Wark Forest. The woods here are deep things, tall and dark allowing no light through. Here, away from other walkers, you feel a little threatened by the tall trees on either side and the darkness between the barks. Its a completely different world from the walk I'd been experiencing less than a mile back. 
  The path through the woods is very clear, sometimes along the road and other times down smaller and muddier paths through thicker forests. Here you can imagine Narnian creatures watching and following you readying their attack. 
  As you leave the forest there's a wonderful tunnel of trees where you think your heading towards a manner house and not the modest service road ahead. Here I confess I felt a little confused since I'd made myself think I was further along that I was. In my mind I only had another hour to go which would get me to camp in plenty of time to buy dinner and wash my clothes.  In truth I had at least another five hours to go and it would be night by the time I reached camp.

Fallen logs along the path

    The path over the open land is uninspiring, simple field land and slopes divided my styles and walls which confuse the navigation and breaks the rhythm. The river crossing deffinately pulled me up short. It was at least seven meters in width and at least a meter deep. I stood there wondering how the hell I'd be crossing it and already morning my dry shoes and new camera. Luckily I glanced down the stream before taking the plunge and spotted the handy bridge fifty meters away hidden in the trees. 
    The day just seems to carry on and on, round farm after farm, across fields and along driveways. At one points it went straight through someones backyards. Shitlington Hall Farm was a great relief, the relay station finally looming in the distance. From there it was a simple decent to Bellingham. It was nearly half seven by this point and as I slowly climbed the sunlight magically like syrup across the landscape.  Everything was cast into shades of gold, and you could see the behavior in the animals alter slightly. I was struck most by these two sheep who stood with a grace and pride I'd not seen in any of their kind before. I thought the shape of their figures against the sweeping tree really stunning. 

Above Shitlington Hall Farm

   Dusk fell and wasn't half as daunting as I'd expected. Everything is quieter and there is a sense of freedom not experienced during the day.  The B6320 is a small and rather busy road. The walk along isn't pleasant, and often your forced to push yourself against the edge as a car swings past. Town was close though and dropping into the convenience store I rushed to get to camp. By this point it was ten and my hesitant knocking at the farm door yielded no reply. Using my head torch I set up camp alongside everyone else, deciding to try the farmer again in the morning to pay. This was only my second time ever setting up camp in the dark, the first been the disastrous Morton Island hike in Australia. It was simple enough though and collapsing, washed, in bed I gulped down my dinner and fell asleep thanking god that tomorrow was considered a 'dolly' in the guidebook.

Dusk from the Relay Station