The Walled City

Revelling in a day of Roman history, Daniel Parry moored in the basin at Chester and struck out to indulge his passion for all things from the past

- Daniel Parry

There is no city like the walled city. To stand on the red walls of Chester and look west, over the plain to the blue of the Clwyd Hills, is to understand why the Romans set up camp here at the end of the 1st century AD, right on the north-western fringe of the empire, in a loop of the River Dee.

Deva Victrix was the largest Roman fort in Britain (Chester means ‘fort’ in Old English, as does Caer in Welsh) built to house over five thousand soldiers, one of the Cities of Legion. Historians and archaeologists have wondered whether Deva was once intended to be the capital of Roman Britain. Whether that cases it or not, Chester is the only town or city in England to still be totally encompassed by its ancient walls; they are the most substantial of Roman remains we have.

There are two thousand years of history to be felt in Chester. It has a long memory. All the way down to today, it is plain how conscious it is of its heritage. For one who is historically-minded or inclined, as I am, there is no city more potent.

We descended the locks early in the summer and moored in the basin, now the heart of the student district (The Garden Quarter). It still retains a dockside charm. I had to remind myself we were seven miles inland. Tucked beyond the north wall, it was surprisingly quiet (on a weeknight) for a city. We don’t often voluntarily spend time moored in built-up, urban areas. This was all right; much better than mooring on the other side of (the formidable) Northgate Staircase, hewn out of the rock beneath the wall, like we did last time.

The first thing we did was set out to walk the two miles around the walls.