Uncle Pat's Window Seat

The first time you actually see what is left of the wall, your impression is . . . "What?! I've come all this way for THIS?" And then you calm down; you take a deep breath, and you realize that what you're looking at is almost 1900 years old. OK. What's that mean. Well, for one measure, twenty-five other guys lived as long as I have in a straight line before me. I don't consider myself old, but I'm not exactly young either. I think there are at least twenty-five people  from my high school graduating class still kicking; I'm only in touch with half a dozen or so. So if all of us held hands, that piece of wall would be four times older than we are. My brother and all my family that I know of I don't think total that many years.  And that wall will still be there when we're gone. And with the way climate change is going, I wonder what the evolved humans who come through the other side will make of it. Thus for philosophy. Just flipp...

Eighty-four-plus (includes wrong turnings) miles later I have completed walking the path of Hadrian's wall. I have learned some things and met a world of wonderful, joyous people. This photo is from the last portion of the walk. An old man in Port Carlisle has erected a fingerpost marking the distances to the ends of the Wall Path. He added fingers for walkers' hometowns, put a coin-slotted collection box on the post for donations, and opened his laptop for Google Maps. H is open garage just across the path sheltered his computer and his box of slide-in letters. I laughed out loud at the joy of it all. Of course I stopped. I had met Stephan and Sylive from the Czech Republic earlier on the Path at the Mithraic temple at the town of Carrawburgh (caRAWbruff) we had each stopped for a breather/water bottle/sandwich in a car park and were discussing which way the fingerposts were actually pointing. Stephan followed one sign; I followed the other. His went down the hill to t...