The Romans occupied Britain from the first to the fifth century AD, but were unable to take control of the island in its entirety. Northern British tribes, such as the Picts, resisted and could not be conquered by the Roman forces. The Roman solution was a pragmatic one, to build a defensive wall across Britain from sea to sea to keep the "barbarians" out and stop them from raiding more southerly parts of Britannia.

The wall was constructed between 122 and 128 AD, during the reign of Emperor Hadrian. It marked the northernmost limit of the Roman Empire and was an impressive construction - 80 Roman miles long (117 km) with the walls 3.7m high and over 2 m wide. Watchtowers were placed every mile and a series of forts built adjacent to it to hold the garrisons of soldiers that manned it.

The Romans finally left by 410AD and much of it was destroyed over the following centuries to provide stone for buildings and roads. However, significant ruined sections remain and in 1987 it was declared a World Heritage site.

Today it can be experience by a walking track or by a cycleway. To add a bit of variety to our current trip, the fair Nello and I opted to explore it and the countryside it passes through on bikes. Thus we found ourselves taking a long train trip up the length of England, from Penzance to Carlisle, followed by a shorter train ride from Carlisle to Whitehaven on the Irish Sea.

So, why does a description of cycling the Hadrians Wall Cycle Way start with a walk at Wastwater? Nostalgia is the quick answer, as over 30 years ago, the fair Nello and I, along with our then 13-year old daughter, camped in the Lakes District, climbed Coniston Old Man, had spa baths in icy mountain streams, traipsed through Wordsworth's countryside and had a great time. So, finding ourselves on the other (western) side of the Lakes District, we felt it would be nice to revisit. Wastwater, the deepest of the lakes is only 35 km from Whitehaven, so we hired a car and drove on down.

The original plan had been to walk up to Iggle Peak above the lake to look out over it to the many peaks beyond, including Scafell Pike (at 960m, England's highest peak), but I was still suffering quite badly from a severe headcold and, having been told by my now 44-year old daughter in our phone call ... "don't be stupid, Dad, if you try and climb mountains when you are sick, you probably won't be well enough to do the bike ride". We opted instead for a short stroll in the flatlands at the lake's head.

It was still great to be in the surrounds of this "long, stern and desolate" lake, as Wordsworth called it. The wildness and severity of the peaks about it was tempered by the serenity of the lowland fields, with their flocks of grey-fleeced Herdwick sheep and frolicking black lambs (not a mistake - they are born black and turn grey as they get older), and softened by the yellow carpets of gorse in bloom.

As the cloud slowly lifted to reveal the rocky face of Scafell Pike and the nearby pyramid of Great Gable, I felt better already. After some lunch at the Wasdale Head Inn, we headed back to Whitehaven ... time for a pre-cycling trip afternoon nap.

Well, I'm feeling somewhat better this morning ..... one should always listen to their children.

We are staying in Whitehaven, but Hadrians Cycleway (hereafter called HCW) starts in Ravenglass, some 30 km by road to the south. The reason for this is that Ravenglass, was once the site of the fortress of Glennaventa, the western end of the line of fortifications built by the Romans in 130 AD to keep out the nasty Picts ans Scots. This is why we found ourselves getting out of a taxi-van with our bikes, in quaint little Ravenglass village, on the edge of the Esk Estuary, and getting set to ride back to Whitehaven along the HCW (or Cycle Route 72).

A cold north-westerly was blowing across the flat marshlands and estuary at Ravenglass, so we donned our goretexes and set off, crossing the inflow channel on a narrow pedestrian bridge attached to the rail bridge. The track soon joined a quiet country road to cross through hedge-lined fields. The flatness here provided great views of the Lake District mountains to the east - the Scafell Massif standing out.

A series of quiet roads and one brief stint next on the footpath of the main road brought us to the village of Holmrook, where we crossed a bridge over the Irt River, babbling down form the Lakes District, and turned back toward the coast. We pedalled through another tiny village, Drigg, before reaching the Victorian era seaside resort of Seascale. The roads were relatively flat, but cycling into the face of the stiff north-westerly made it all seem uphill.

The guide book describes the beaches here as "stunning", which is a fairly severe overstatement. However, once we cruised past the old Voctorian homes of the town and turned on to a narrow sandy pathway, we found ourselves cycling along a section of wild coastline, which was very pleasant.

Pleasantness gave way to a darker emotion, as we quickly found ourselves cycling next to a long section of razor-wire topped fence. We were following the perimeter of the large Sellafield Nuclear Power Plant. By the time we left its massive copper dome and numerous towers, the weather was becoming warmer and we took of our goretexes. The HCW was taking us inland again, following an old rail line embankment above the flat coastal pasturelands.

A series of country roads now took us through the village of Beckermet, before climbing up to reach the old market town of Egremont - a good spot for lunch. From Egremont, the route switched directions frequently from street to pathway to small road until it eventually joined up with a tarmac lined rail trail. It should be said that, by now we had given up trying to follow the guide book with its complicated directions or even our GPS (all too time-consuming) and were relying solely on the blue HCW markers. With a few exceptions, this route is very well marked.

The landscape here was much more lush, passing through patches of forest and rich pasturelands and the rail trail offered a long and gentle coast down to Whitehaven beneath a bright green canopy of trees. All that was left was to follow the blue signs through a maze of small streets and shared pathways in outer Whitehaven. School had just gotten out, so there were lots of children and parents to share the path with, as well.

Finally, we emerged in the centre of the town and headed slowly down to its large harbour (not as well-used now as in the 18th century when Whitehaven was a rich shipping port).

We were greeted by a young grey seal basking on a boat ramp and by a Mr Whippy van. We admired the one and savoured the other - I haven't had a Mr Whippy icecream since my childhood when they jingled down our street.

Thus ended our relatively short first day on the HCW - an interesting mix of coastal and interior landscapes and, despite the wind, it had been an easy day of cycling.

At over 50 km, today was to be quite bit longer than our first day on the HCW. We were ready to go by 9am and pedalled quickly down from our guesthouse to the Whitehaven Harbour under clear skies and virtually no wind. This was the official start of the stage.

At the end of the harbour, we fond ourselves on a sealed path that led around Tanyard Bay, the Irish Sea and railway on our left, a reddish-brown rock cliff on our right. This led to the village of Parton and the start of the only biggish climb of the day, to the top of Stamford Hill.

After a last look back over the now distant harbour at Whitehaven, we coasted down the hill to pick up a very pleasant and peaceful bike path which gently undulated its way northwards between tall hedgerows and, later, beneath some nice forest canopy to reach the outskirts of Workington, the largest town in the region.

To our pleasant surprise, most of the passage through Workington was on a bike path. However, it was Saturday and lots of locals seemed to be out walking their dogs ... a sort of pathway meet and greet session with a fair bit of bell-ringing. We finally reached the centre of Workington and pulled up at the car-free mall area for a coffee in the sun (at last, someone here knows how to make a proper flat white coffee).

Leaving Workington came with a hiccup, as the underpass used by HCW was blocked for roadworks - a quick consult of the GPS found a way around, even if it meant walking the bikes down some steep steps. We were back on track and soon pedalling across an interesting footbridge over the Derwent River (and who didn't have Derwent or Lakeland pencils as a school kid?).

The bike path continued after the Derwent River, before merging on to a busy and noisy road. Fortunately, the HCW does not like busy and noisy roads and quickly led us away on a path that passed through a series of farm gates and into Flimby village. We were now near the coast again and pedalling smoothly into Maryport, a larger town at the mouth of the River Ellen.

We deviated slightly to follow a local bike path along the river bank, before rejoining the HCW as it left Maryport Harbour. From here, a broad esplanade led us northwards along the edge of the Irish Sea. There was no beach as such, just a line of red slab rocks merging into the flat sea, but it was very pleasant riding with a slight breeze at our backs.

Skirting the local golf course, we rejoined the seaside cycle path on the way to the small resort of Allonby. Halfway along, we made a brief stop to have a look at the 21 Mile Fortlet, the circular remains of what was once a string of Roman defences against the wild northern Celts.

The ride along the coast here was very pleasant - a flat landscape merging into a flat sea. As we approached Allonby, the numbers of walkers and dogs on the shared path increased .... the Brits were out in force enjoying a sunny Saturday.

We found a spare seat, so stopped for a bite of lunch, soaking up the sun and contemplating the flat expanse of the Irish Sea. Hazily in the distance across the water, we had our first glimpse of the mountains of southern Scotland.

From Allonby, we had a small section of riding along the main road, but again the HCW led us quickly away from it, this time turning inland for a long and rambling ride on country lanes and farm roads.

It was a change from the coast, and offered one last glimpse back to the Lakes District mountains, now under a thick band of cloud.

We felt lucky with the sun shining on us as we meandered and undulated our way through the hamlet of Edderside, past Tarns Dub and Beckfoot, to finally ride down a long stretch of road into Silloth. Silloth has a cobbled main street and riding the last few hundred metres gave me a lot of sympathy of the riders in the Paris-Roubaix. It seemed that, after 54 km in the saddle, the HCW had played a cruel joke on our already aching bums by taking us over the cobblestones.

However, it did bring us to the Golf Hotel, our accommodation for the night, nicely placed across from the Village Green. It had been a relatively quick and pleasant ride and we had even beaten our luggage transfer by a few minutes. This gave us plenty of time to clean up and explore a little of Silloth. I like it.

There had been a change in weather overnight and we were greeted on the morning of our longest ride by high grey cloud and virtually no wind .... a heaviness hung in the air. Moreover, after all the pleasant cycle paths of yesterday, the HCW thought it time to shed the nice ride image. Today's ride would be all on road.

Leaving Silloth on a busy major road, we soon turned inland and pedalled quickly along a series of farm roads and laneways that led this way and that way through the flat Cumbrian farmlands. We shared the road with tractors pulling large hay trailers, with wafts of rural aromas, mostly bovine as this area has a lot of dairy herds, and, more pleasantly, with the twittering and songs of small hedgerow birds.

The farmlands were separated by a string of small villages - Abbeytown, with its church containing parts of a 12th century Cistercian monastery, Newton Arlosh, Angerton and Whitrig. Few people were visible in these quiet villages, though there were quite a few lycra-clad cyclists zooming down the roads on their Sunday morning rides.

After Whitrig, the HCW turned back westwards, following the northern shore of an inlet of Solway Firth. The tide was out and the inlet was more a series of braided channels in a wide band of tan-coloured mudflats. We passed the stretched out village of Anthorn, followed by the tall antennae of a naval communications array. The scent of bloom-covered gorse lining the inlet was more pleasing than past rural aromas.

Finally, we passed some old WWII bunkers, crossed the isolated hamlet of Cardurnock, and headed north towards the main body of water of Solway Firth. There was little traffic on this road, as we followed the edge of the Firth eastwards again. Across the narrow strip of wetlands lining the Firth and across the exposed mudflats and deeper water, we could see several settlements on the Scottish side of Solway.

Pedalling on, an unexpected steep, but short climb brought us to Bowness-on-Solway, official starting point of Hadrians Wall and site of a major Roman fort (Miai). There was nothing to be seen of either, probably due to later residents propensities to pick the bricks and stonework of the Romans to build their own castles and houses. Bowness, however, did have a nice cafe and we stopped to enjoy our lunch in the sunshine .... which had just broken through.

After lunch, we continued along the now quite busy coast road. While, the drivers were all considerate, I was pleased we had opted to wear our Hi-Vis vests. This was a curious section, as, from Port Carlisle on, we criss-crossed the line of Hadrians Wall and associated fortlets several times, all traces invisible and buried beneath the rich farmland soil.

Passing through Drumburgh, we crossed the open landscape of the Burgh Marshes, more realistically the Burgh cowpaddock, as the marshes had long been drained and the herds of dairy cows grazed contentedly next to the waters of the Solway Firth. The tide was coming in .... fast.

We were now heading inland again on the run in to Carlisle. A series of small hill climbs and descents through Burgh-by-Sands brought us into suburbia on a busy road, which fed into an even busier road as we approached the centre to reach the red sandstone walls of 11th century Carlisle Castle, an impressive medieval keep.

Fortunately, from here we could pick our way down to the pleasant gardens and greens of Bitts Park and follow the Eden River around - a peaceful end to a less than quiet day's ride. Our B&B accommodation for the night was only a few streets away in a leafy area of old Victorian townhouses. It was a good place to have a bit of a rest, before wandering into central Carlisle to see more of it red brick and sandstone history.

Overall, it had been our least favourite day of the ride, mainly because it was almost entirely on public roads. I've never felt comfortable sharing with cars and the constant drone as they pass. That said, there were some interesting aspects to the day and we now have had three days of fine weather, so no complaints (other then from my bruised backside).

It was only a short distance back form our B&B to the HCW trail and we quickly found ourselves pedalling out of Carlisle beneath a cloudier sky than other days, but one with large patches of sunshine. Crossing the Eden River and the city-green sized Ricker Park, we once again found ourselves pedalling down a series of country roads of varying business. Heading out of Carlisle, we paralelled the Hadrians Walking Path - lots of walkers were setting out for the day and they seem to outnumber cyclists by quite a margin.

A few small hills crept in to the green English countryside, as we traversed a number of small villages - Linstock, Lower Crosby, Newby, Howe and Hayton - separated by hedge-rowed fields and groves of trees. The flatness had left the terrain though and we noticed the increase in effort required.

After 24 km, we coasted down to the larger village of Brampton (and losing much of the precious gain in elevation), we stopped for a coffee in its busy central square area. A long steady climb took us out of Brampton, followed by a pleasant coast beneath the trees to cross the Irthing River and reach 12th century Lanercost Priory. We briefly stopped, but did not visit, as our first big climb lay ahead - a climb up on to the higher levels of the Pennine Mountains. On reaching the lowest gear of both cogs, we decided to get off and walk. There were three good reasons - it was in fact faster walking than wobbling uphill in a very low gear, it gave other muscle groups a bit of exercise and our saddle-sore backsides applauded the decision.

The reward for reaching the top was to see our first fragments of Hadrian Wall - the ruined foundations of Banks East Turret, followed by fragments of rock wall and a couple more ruined turrets and signal towers and the vestige of the deep spike-filled trench that ran parallel to the wall as part of the defences. Not stand-out amazing, but the start of the best-preserved sections of the wall.

We were now on the Pennine tops and soon reached the site of Birdoswald Fortress, where a Roman garrison had been stationed. Here, we did stop to walk around the remnants of perimeter walls and appreciate its size and situation on the edge of a high escarpment. Just beyond Birdoswald lay a longer section of the wall - time for another stop.

The sun was actually out shining at last, as we climbed and descended a series of small hills, passing through Gilsland to reach Greenhead and the second big climb of the day ... another dismount and walk job.

Not long after that, we detoured away from the HCW and headed towards Walltown (just a location not a village). They served energy-boosting hot chocolates, but the main attraction was that from here, we could leave our bikes and walk a section of the wall ... which we did.

The weather was evolving quickly, and sun was replaced by ominous grey clouds as we wandered out past the picturesque Quarry Lake. Behind it lay a sheer-walled ridge, with a better-preserved section of the wall snaking along the edge to Milecastle 45. A few drops of rain accompanied us on our climb up, but it was well worth the effort. This was a dramatic section of wall with 360° panoramic views of the surrounding countryside. Even the sombre light seemed appropriate to the setting. It made us realise that we are more walkers than cyclists - the ability to get so close and personal with the landscape is just not available to cyclists. Why the HCW does not include a slight detour to this site I don't know. For us, it was the highlight of the day.

The lowlight was probably the long run into Bardon Mill from Walltown in the now-gloomy light. With the odd drop of rain, it seemed to never end, though there were a couple of good downhill coasts. Finally, after a last long climb, we cruised down into Bardon Mill and found our accommodation at The Bowes Hotel. That was a last pleasant surprise, as we voted it the nicest place we have stayed at so far ... and we didn't even have to leave the door to have a celebratory pint of brown ale and a hearty meal. The hardest day of this cycling trip was over.

Today was a shorter cycling day - presumably to allow a visit to the Vindolanda archaeological site. The grey skies had moved on and we were greeted with a sunny sky and cool wind, as we headed out from Bardon Mill. The climb up to Vindolanda was upon us almost immediately - long, steady and cycleable in places, short, steep and walkable in others.

However, on reaching the old Roman road that headed down (at last) to Vindolanda, we made a detour. A steep descent and shorter ascent brought us to The Sill Discovery Centre at curiously named Once Brewed. This was another detour to do a short walk on Hadrians Wall. The Sill is named for the Whin Sill, a doleritic outcrop of rock that dominates this part of the Pennines and formed a natural defensive feature that the Romans used in constructing Hadrians Wall.

We left our bikes at the visitors centre and strolled up to Steel Rigg, a breach in the sill. To our right, we could see the wall on top of the sheer-walled doleritic ridge. A climb up and stroll along the ridge enable us to have one last up-close view of the wall, and enjoy the panoramic views from this Pennines high point.

After a coffee back at The Sill, we retraced our route to turn east and coast down a narrow former Roman road to the Vindolanda site. The ruins of the fortress and neighbouring village were fascinating, as was the attached museum, featuring artifacts found at the site. It was well worth the stop to see how the early history of this area has been pieced together - we even got to watch some volunteer diggers unearth another fragment of Roman pottery from the hearth of a house within the fortress.

Time was passing, however, and we had to push on - a short, steep descent to Chainley Burn, followed by a steep ascent that brought us to the high point of the HCW (at 262 m). From here, we had the longest downhill section of the ride, a very pleasant and, at times, speedy coast with the wind whistling in our ears to reach the village of Newborough.

We were now off the more open tops and in the forested valleys. The route took to a few minor roads, crossing two more smaller hills and the South Tyne River to reach a cycle track ... it felt good to be off-road, no matter how quiet they had been. The cycle track led us along, between river and railway line, into Hexham town. Handing over to Mr Google to guide us to our hotel in the heart of town, past 7th century Hexham Abbey and a TV shoot for an episode of "Vera", we soon found ourselves in a comfortable room at the Coach and Horses.

It had been a good day - though again the highlight involved walking not cycling. Today was our last experience of Hadrians Wall and I suspect it would have been even less, had we not deviated from the official route of Hadrians Cycleway.

It was our last day of cycling on the HCW and we were greeted with clear blue skies and a cold westerly wind. Both were good - it would mean that, apart from a few drops two days ago, we will have escaped being rained on in England and, as we were heading east, the westerlies would give us a bit of a push along.

The first part of the day was not so impressive, however, as we followed a busy road out of Hexham to cross the Tyne River and pick up the HCW. For the next 20 km, the route followed a series of roads, some quite busy with smooth surfaces, others less so, but pot-holey and uneven. I'm not sure which I preferred. We did pass another set of roman ruins near Corbridge, those of Coria, the most northern town in the empire, and spent a long period of time in the English countryside. Almost 10 km between villages, most unusual for rural England.

The all-embracing greenness of the countryside was broken occasionally by a field of bright yellow canola as we pushed through to once again cross the Tyne at Prudhoe. A pleasantly situated cafe provided a good place to stop for morning coffee. It was also the start of the bike path. Gone at last the roads - from here on our only company on the path would be other cyclists (of which there were plenty of the lycra-suited racing bike subspecies) and the occasional walkers (to keep our bell-ringing fingers exercised).

It was a pleasant ride along the path as it wound its way beneath the leafy tree canopy of the river verge, crossing back to the northern bank and continuing on to follow the Tyne seawards. All good things do come to an end, however, and, in this case, it was our arrival into the outskirts of Newcastle.

While still on a bikepath, we now spent much of our time riding alongside a very busy main road and criss-crossing it via traffic lights at busy intersections and roundabouts. The river itself had changed. Here it was now more estuarine and the tide was out, exposing a broad expanse of mud flats from river's edge to main channel.

The river concourse, though, was well-designed, and it was nice to leave the busy roads and follow it along as it morphed in the Central quay area and passed beneath several road and pedestrian bridges. This is an area of cafes and eateries, so we declared it the official lunch-stop. As we sat there in warm sunshine, admiring Sydney Harbour Bridge's little cousin, we thought it would have been a good place to finish the ride as well. Alas ... Tynemouth lay some 17 km to the east.

Slowly leaving the Quay area, we discovered you needed to pay close attention to route 72 signage to stay on path. At one point a marked passage was blocked, which forced us to change route and follow a path right on the river's edge, which was very pleasant. It rejoined the cycle route at Wallsend (unsurprisingly the place where Hadrians Wall ended at the recently discovered ruins of Fort Segedunum). It would have been a second good place to finish the ride, but Tynemouth was still 8 km away.

Small harbour at Tynemouth

The final section was all a bit anticlimactic, as we followed the disjointed route along roadside bikepaths, through open country, along suburban streets, around a marina and finally into Tynemouth. The weather matched our mood a bit, as cloud rolled in and a chill entered the air.

Finally, we reached the mouth of the Tyne River and rode around the esplanade bikepath toward the giant statue of Vice Admiral Collingwood (Nelson's 2IC at Trafalgar) looking out to sea. Here we declared the ride finished. I think that, strictly, the HCW ends on the other side of the Tyne's mouth at an old Roman Fort at South Shields, but our accommodation was at Tynemouth, just a 3-minute ride from the statue, so we were happy to take the alternative end.

Sunset over the Northumberland Coast

Three minutes later, we were checking in to our very nice guesthouse in busy Front Street. We would not have far to walk to find a place for a celebratory ale to mark the end of our Hadrians Cycleway adventure.