Day 3 - Haltwhistle.

I woke up to heavy rain today so didn't move and went back to sleep. There was no way I was going to pack up my tent in the rain and then ride off into it. The amount of time I have seems endless right now and I'm taking full advantage of this luxury. I finally force myself outside at nearly 2pm and it's still raining. It'll be another night here then.
I look at my map and notice that during my prep I circled Haltwhistle with a pen indicating some sort of point of interest here. It must be something to do with the wall so I headed out on foot in the rain, Hudson in tow, grumpy. I think we'd walked about four miles when we arrived at Cawfields Milecastle. The wall was thick and impressive, the large stones cut quite precisely square and laid five feet deep. A short wall showing the square outline was all that remained of the castle, an apparent gatehouse for monitoring border crossings.I should really learn more about this wall, we often take our history for granted here in England. My uncle, an ancient roman enthusiast and reenacter told me the wall was once twenty feet high. Amazing really, the stubbornness brought on by ego and power. I just feel sorry for the poor blokes that had to build it and now it lies in ruin, funny that. The follies of man.
I'll try for an early start tomorrow, my map says I'm already halfway to Carlisle. The people I've met so far have been nothing but nice and I'm getting by on less than ten pounds a day. Better go get my phone, it's on charge in the toilet block. Night.

3am - The earth just shivered. I only felt it because I'm layed directly on it.

Day 2 - Hexham - Haltwhistle.

Our camp was drenched in dew and we were framed by a shadow cast by the tree we'd camped next to. I dragged the tent over into the sun to dry off and went systematically down the list of packing up. All very painless really and I half looked forward to getting this routine down efficiently. It took maybe 25 minutes for us to be ready to roll and we took to the country lanes. I found my legs to be very weak and it pained me to pedal.. I imagined peeling back my skin to expose the muscle in my legs, all watery and thin like a bloodshot eye ball. I could hardly pedal.
We had run out of water so I tried to make up for it with chocolate but the energy never really came. Every corner conceiled another climb and every descent though pleasant bore the bittersweet indication of an inevitable climb. I got off and pushed when I had to which Hudson was fond of. I realised I was fatigued and hadn't eaten or drank properly. After seven or eight miles we stopped at a stream in the base of a steep gorge and Hudson drank a lot. The following climb was steep and demoralising, I wasn't quite prepared for this.
We came across a Roman excavation sight 'Vindolanda' packed with coach loads of tourists. No dogs allowed. We stopped in the car park and I refilled all the water bottles and cooked lunch using the stove given to me by the embittered Canadian soldier I'd met in a bar 3 weeks ago. The road thereafter was Roman and so perfectly straight. It's hard not to transport your mind back in time, imagining the ranks of infantry walking and scouting and the bulding this damn wall I've seen nothing of yet. I was tired and so was Hudson. I think we only covered twenty miles today and as I came into Haltwhistle and saw the brown sign indicating a close campsite. It was only 3pm but we'd been going for 8 hours. Time for a hot shower and a warm dinner.