Blog Archives
Hadrian’s Wall Hike (AKA an 84 mile pub crawl across Northern England)
My husband Giles convinced both me and our friends Barb and Gary that walking 84 miles across northern England was a good idea. He was right as we had a fabulous adventure along with the rest of our group – a couple from Canada, a woman from New York City, a woman from Washington DC, and a woman from Dorset England. Along with our guide we hiked, we supported each other, we enjoyed good food and drink, and we made great memories.
Day 1 Sunday, May 31, 2026: We visited Segedunum Roman Fort, which tells the story of the Roman, coal mining and shipbuilding history of the area. set out from Wallsend (which shares a history with the Vikings, as well as the Romans) to walk the first few miles of Hadrian’s Wall to Newcastle on Tyne.
Day 2 Monday June 2, 2026: Newcastle to Heddon-on-the- Wall. We walked along the River Tyne and learned more about the area while enjoying the local scenery. Miles Walked: Approximately 11.
Day 3 Tuesday, June 2, 2026 Heddon-on-the-Wall to Chollerford. We walked through hills and pastures as we learned about kissing gates and how we couldn’t really avoid stepping in sheep poop. Miles Walked: Approximately 16.
Day 4 Wednesday, June 3, 2026 – Chollerford to Once-Brewed The walk got tougher with more uphill and downhill walking, but we saw the type of quarry used to get the stones for the wall, an old temple, an old Roman fort (with latrines) and the Sycamore Gap Memorial before relaxing and enjoying the ambience of the Twice Brewed Inn. Miles Walked: Approximately 13.
Day 5 Thursday, June 4, 2026 – Once Brewed to Gilsland The toughest day of the walk. We started with a visit to the Roman Fort of Vindolanda, and saw some, well, interesting artifacts. After that, we started our hike to the highest part of the wall, which we did in pouring rain and high winds. Miles Walked: Approximately 9.
Day 6 Friday, June 6, 2026 – Gisland to Newton – A nice day of walking as we were all filled with a sense of accomplishment after the previous day. Miles Walked: Approximately 11.
Day 7 Saturday, June 6, 2026 – Newtown to Carlisle We made good time walking and had most of the afternoon to explore Carlisle. We visited Carlisle Castle, which was established in 1092 and rebuilt in 1122, and Carlisle Cathedral, built in 1133. We also enjoyed a lovely afternoon tea and evening at a the manor, complete with a walled garden. Miles Walked: Approximately 10.
Day 8 Sunday, June 7, 2026 – Carlisle to Bowness-on-Solway We followed the River Eden as it flowed toward the coast and arrived at our final destination: a pub with a crowd of other hikers cheering us on. And of course we celebrated with a round of drinks at that final destination. Miles Walked: Approximately 14.
Our final group photo before we left on Monday, June 8
Hadrian’s Wall Passport – Complete!
Getting Back Up
There is an anecdote in my baby book that explains so much. The brief notation is written in my mother’s perfect handwriting.
Christmas 1969 Trina was in the Sunday School program but kept falling backward.
That is all it says.
As a teenager, I remember asking my mom to elaborate. There really wasn’t much to tell. Apparently, nearly three-year-old me was one of several children singing Away In the Manger, but I could only get through a few lyrics before I’d fall backwards. Then I’d pick myself up, resume singing, and fall over again. And then I’d pick myself up again. And again. And again.
I hadn’t thought about that story in decades until this week when I was clinging to the root of a wild Rhododendron bush on the side of a cliff.
How could I have let myself get into this situation? I am the person who was once too uncoordinated to sing and stand up at the same time.
Being uncoordinated has shaped the person I am. I am the little girl who could never do a cartwheel and failed gymnastics. I am the kid who never once hit the ball during softball. I am the teenager who could run fast during a track meet but tripped at the finish line. I am the college student who sprained her ankle walking down the stairs of her dorm. I am the friend who got left behind on a ski trip because I just couldn’t get my feet to work correctly. I am the woman who shattered her wrist while walking her dog. I am the person who constantly has bruises and who everyone at work worries about every time they hear a crash or a loud bang.
My lack of grace generated a sense of fear in me at an early age. I wasn’t afraid of heights. I was afraid of what I might do to myself if I tried to do anything from a height: jumping downstairs, going off a diving board; springing off a swing in mid flight. I’d watch in awe as other kids did those things, but I avoided doing any of those them myself. And those decisions came with regrets. I once stood at the top of a fire pole willing myself to go down, but my feet refused. They felt as though they each weighed a thousand pounds.
My journalist mother was writing a feature story about a family that had installed the pole in their house as a fun way for their children to get from the second floor to the first floor. All of the kids in the house, their friends, and even my mother had gone down the pole. And yet, I stood in fear at the top unable to grab and go. The shame I felt from having to take the stairs stayed with me and inspired me to push through the fear.
Which is why, earlier this week, I found myself desperately hanging onto the side of the cliff.
My husband and I had taken the week off to spend time hiking and exploring state parks. He was on a mission to find a certain waterfall from a historical illustration, and his search took us to a series of falls that could only be accessed off the beaten path.
Off the beaten path turned out to be what I can only describe as an almost completely vertical cliff.
Getting to the first falls was fairly easy, but I took one look at the steep descent to the next one and said, “I can’t do it.” But then I did it anyway. The descent to the third waterfall, the one that plunges forty feet, was basically a forty foot vertical drop with vegetation and a few foot holes. “I can’t do this,” I said. And then I did it anyway. My forehead and back were dripping in sweat, but I did it anyway.
As my husband and I stood on a rock taking photos of the falls and basking in our success, he turned to me and said, “Now we have to do the hard part and go back up.”
“I’m not worried about that,” I replied. “Getting back up has always been the easy part for me.”
I wasn’t just referring to the fact that, to me, climbing uphill really is much easier than going down a hill, when I often feel unbalanced.
I was referring to the fact that life has demanded that I learn to turn my weaknesses into strengths. When I was almost three years old, I had a problem simultaneously singing and standing. But when I fell, I always got back up. And I eventually learned to sing and stand. And to ride a bike. And to climb trees. And to climb down cliffs. And to trust myself to take risks.
The secret to enjoying life isn’t just about finding those things at which we are innately good and pursuing them. It’s about finding joy in overcoming those things at which we sometimes fail.
It’s about getting back up.
Just So You Know 