Haltwhistle likes to call itself the centre of Britain, and on the road through the South Tyne valley it is easy to believe that this is where England quietly runs out of people. Just north of the town, the line of the Stanegate, the Roman road that linked Carlisle with Corbridge, crosses farmland on the flank of the valley. Little of it shows as more than a faint agger, a raised bank under the grass, but it is older than Hadrian's Wall, which runs along the crags a few kilometres to the north.
The Stanegate was the first frontier here. Under Agricola and his successors, the Romans built a string of forts along it, Vindolanda being the most famous, and only later decided to build a continuous barrier on the high ground. Standing on the old road and looking up at the dark wall of the Whin Sill, the volcanic dolerite ridge that the Wall follows, you see why the engineers made that choice. The ridge is a natural rampart, with cliffs facing north and long views across empty moorland.
This was also reiver country. For centuries after the Romans, raiding families on both sides of the border stole cattle, burned farms and settled feuds by force, which is why the area is scattered with bastle houses and pele towers, fortified farmhouses where livestock went downstairs and people slept above. Haltwhistle was raided so often that its church and older houses have a distinctly defensive look.
For riding, this is a crossroads. The A69 along the valley floor is quick but busy. Up on the B6318 Military Road you get long rolling straights and sudden dips, with the Wall itself appearing and disappearing on the ridge; Walltown Crags, Cawfields and the Roman Army Museum at Carvoran are all close. Southwards, the A689 climbs from the Tyne valley over the Pennines towards Alston, one of the finest moorland roads in England, high, bare and exposed. The wind can be brutal up there and fog rolls in quickly, even in summer.
Haltwhistle has fuel, a few cafés and pubs, and a small supermarket, which is useful because the country north of the Wall is very empty. Hexham, with its abbey and a proper market town's worth of services, is twenty-six kilometres east.