And so today, to all intents and purposes, I say goodbye to the Wall. From Banks onwards, it disappears gradually: From small sections, to occasional crumbling heaps of stones, to barely discernible landscape features, to nothing.
From Walton onwards, there isn't much to see at all of anything recognisable apart from at the rear of Bleatarn Farm where the completely robbed-out Wall foundations are now nothing but a stony trackway. Accompanied by the ever-faithful V of the Wall ditch, it soon fades into the landscape and is lost.
So. On to Carlisle
After relentless trudging through flat Eden countryside, crossing the M6 feels like being back on home turf. The Pennines are well and truly behind me and the Solway coast is only a day's walk away.
It's taking its toll on my feet now, though. Today was the first day I really started to suffer.
I was already experiencing pain in the top of my right foot/ankle/shin area, but today I was getting shooting, burning sensations in my outer left ankle - inflamed or cramping tendons, maybe? It bloody well hurt, anyway.
I was slowed down to a pathetic 2mph hobble at times but I wasn't in any particular hurry today. It was gone 6:00pm by the time I checked in to my hotel in Carlisle.
I knew the last day was going to be tough and I needed to plan what best to do in order to get over the finish line.
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