Day 10 part 2: Vindolanda and Hadrian’s Wall
I post this from Once Brewed Hostel in the shadow of Hadrian’s Wall. What a rare privilege. This has become a favorite stop for our students on the European Tour, perhaps because it’s instantly evident that the memories we create here are deeply etched on our minds: a sense of wonder at God’s creation mixed with near euphoria combines to create a permanent and profound memory. I’ll guarantee that these students will remember today…fondly. We wish we could share it personally with you all, but perhaps this testimony from Josiah will help.
My ears are red, I’m sure. Of course why shouldn’t they be? They feel it and I can see everybody else’s are quite red with the cold. Just thirty minutes ago I was with the group in the rolling glens of Vindolanda. Quite warm, really. Over here in northern England it is unseasonably sunny and quite a good temperature. But here, at the top of the world, it’s quite a different story.
Yes, for here, at the top of the world, our group of eleven brave travelers is experiencing something—and not just the wind. The wind is impressive, of course. Incredibly blustery gales are the cause for the cold up here at the top. Our red ears are only one symptom. Maybe the fact that we are walking like drunken men is evidence to the brute strength of the wind. Or the whipping and frazzled hair. So of course the wind is real and important. But we are experiencing something far greater. You see, up here, the world is different. It’s conquered. Glens and fields of sheep stretch out to my right and left as far as I can see. I am standing here on the crest—right at the top—with a view of the world. Front row seats, really. And then there’s the wind. Its importance transcends the physical phenomena. Just as a stoic spectator watching a slow caravan, I stand here, turning full circle to drink in the view. The wind carries any sounds over the vast glens, so I decide to try it. Bounding up the Roman mile marker, I muster my strength. A particularly robust gust of wind whips up without warning. The sheep, grazing as they have always done, in their own paradigm, are serene. The horizon expands as I ascend. Then I do it. As the wind is shifting, pulling, raging, and my fellow travelers are gazing, learning, experiencing, I empty my lungs of air with a tremendous shout.
Just a shout. The sound is gone. The wind catches the sound and destroys all memory of it within a moment. But the shout lives on. The shout will continue to live on because we will remember.
I shouted. The group shouted. And why not? We were at the top to the world.
Right on top with front row seats. This is the top of the world. This is Hadrian’s Wall. This is Europe Trip 2011.
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- The Grace Troupe at Hadrian’s Wall.
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- The students having a bit of fun at Vindolanda Roman Fort.
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- This photo is worth including just to show how windy it was. Look at Mrs. Frisk’s hair!
