Beaumont is one of those small places where history is stacked in layers, like books on a shelf. The little church of St Mary stands on a grassy mound that was once a Norman motte, a castle earthwork, and that mound in turn sits right on the line of Hadrian's Wall as it heads west from Carlisle towards the Solway. The builders of the motte used the Roman wall as a convenient quarry and foundation, and the church builders after them did the same. You will find no tall Roman masonry here, only the line itself, traced in field boundaries and the slight rise of the ground, and an awareness that you are standing on the edge of an empire.
West of Carlisle the wall was originally built of turf and later rebuilt in stone, and much of that stone has long since vanished into farm buildings across the parish. The countryside is flat and green, with the River Eden winding through its last loops before it reaches the estuary. A couple of miles on, at Burgh by Sands, a monument on the marsh marks where Edward I, the Hammer of the Scots, died in 1307 while waiting to cross into Scotland with yet another army. It is a lonely spot, open to the wind off the Solway, and strangely moving.
For riding, this is gentle country. The lanes from Carlisle out through Kirkandrews, Beaumont and Burgh are narrow, often hedged, sometimes muddy with tractor tracks, and they reward a slow, curious pace. Push further west towards Bowness-on-Solway, where the wall ended, and the road runs right across the salt marsh, with tide warning signs that you should take seriously: at high spring tides the sea covers the tarmac. The views across the firth to the hills of Scotland, with Criffel standing out, are the reason to go.
There is nothing in Beaumont itself beyond the church and a handful of houses. Carlisle is close, a real city with fuel, food and everything else, and it is worth an hour in its own right for the red sandstone castle and the cathedral. Gretna lies just across the border to the north if you fancy notching up Scotland. Bring a layer: the wind from the estuary can feel cold even on a sunny summer afternoon.