Norfolk Coast Path - Day 3

Morston to Sheringham - 15.00 miles

Despite a broken night's sleep, another early-ish start found us back in Morston for around 8.30am, suitably wrapped against the chill and sporting full waterproofs. A breakfast-time deluge had more than hinted at an uncomfortable day ahead, but there were only a few last drops in the air as we re-joined the path, although the skies remained leaden.

From Morston Quay, we skirted the edge of the salt marshes for the mile or so into Blakeney. For some reason, I seemed unable to shake the rhyme about The Scarlet Pimpernel (Sir Percy Blakeney) from my mind, although to the best of my knowledge there is no link between village and character.

"They seek him here, they seek him there .... "

After a brief stop, we continued along the NCP with the Blakeney National Nature Reserve off to our left. Apart from the odd marker or tidemark of loose reeds, this was the first point at which the damage caused by the previous winter's flooding became evident. Sections of the path had been completely washed away, with breaches the causeway allowing high water to flood through.

Looking back towards Blakeney, damaged path visible
in the middle distance

Repairs to the path and the sea defences are ongoing, but much has been done during the spring. Boardwalk has been laid, and the path re-routed in places to avoid the worst bits. Tourism is a key employer and source of income to the area, with walking and (especially at this time of year) birdwatching being two of the major attractions, so the efforts made so far are having a positive benefit for both businesses and visitors.   

Further section of damaged path

Cley-next-the-Sea is an attractive village, slightly quaint, with a great-looking deli, crafty shops and a showcase windmill. It's quite touristy, as you might expect, and it's the only point on the whole walk we got lost! Not our fault, I hasten to add: the path had been re-routed slightly compared to that on the map, and not particularly well signed, so we missed it on the first pass.

Windmill at Cley

What Cley also has is a great visitor centre for birdwatchers, wildlife enthusiasts and cake-lovers alike, and we took a short detour to sample all three. For those of us a little hazy with our coastal bird ID, there's plenty of information on recent sightings to help, a huge picture window from which to watch, and enormous scones of both the greater spotted (fruit) and golden (plain) varieties to be twitched. Birdwatching. In comfort. With cake. What's not to like?

Shingle beach

Cley Marshes Nature Reserve is one of the best spots on the entire coast to watch birds, and we spent a little time indulging. Not that we needed to look too hard: there were birds in their droves, just waiting to be seen. My day was well and truly made by coming across this chap for the first time ever. 

Avocet!

Nor was it was the last one we spotted. They were all over the place, along with numerous other birds. Over the course of the weekend we notched up multiple sightings of Avocet, Snipe, Oystercatcher, Redshank, Brent Geese, Greylag Geese, Shelduck, Little Egret, Grey Heron, Cormorant, Coot, Moorhen, Black-headed Gull, Herring Gull, Skylark, Sand Martin, Swallow and .... Pigeon (the little blighters get everywhere, don't they?). Oh, and a Marsh Harrier, too, just for good measure.  

Another Avocet!

The beach on this section is shingle, and the going quite slow. Like most unconsolidated substrates, the correct gait and pace has to be found to make much in the way of forward progress without unnecessary waste of energy. The breeze was still chilly, so we hunkered behind a shingle "dune" to eat our sandwiches - a nice way to spend an Easter Sunday lunchtime.

Part of the beach was cordoned off to protect the nesting sites of 
ground-nesting birds. I wonder what these will hatch into?

Cold and breezy it may have been, but in compensation there were some sizeable rollers breaking on the beach. The wind whipped spray from the crest of the waves, driving it into our faces, and the noise and power were an impressive reminder of just how elemental a force the sea can be.

Queen Canute

Give us a wave

The four-and-a-half mile stint to Weybourne follows the narrow shingle spit, with the sea close at hand to the left and Cley and Salthouse Marshes to the right. Sandwiched between to two, the path eventually picks up an arrow-straight course along the top of the shingle bank. 

Keeping on the straight and narrow

We had thought about ending the day at Weybourne, but we had made good time, and just as we arrived ... the sun came out! So it only took a moment or two to decide to carry on, and we were soon climbing up on to the cliffs for the next three miles into Sheringham.

Looking down from the cliffs

We arrived in Sheringham at a pace. Not because we were fighting fit and still full of energy, but because we suddenly realised we were likely to miss the last bus, and we didn't know where the bus stop was! Panic over, we arrived with three minutes to spare.

Approaching Sheringham

It was another great day: plenty of variety, and lots to see. It seems this walk knows just when to offer up a change of scenery, so interest is always maintained. And the birdwatching today was superb, with a couple of first-time spots to add the icing on the cake. Cake and icing in the day and eggs for Easter Sunday, so obviously Fish and Chips for dinner was a necessity. Good job the walking had earned us a few calories.

Norfolk Coast Path - Day 2

Burnham Deepdale to Morston - 17.50 miles

Next morning we were back at Burnham Deepdale by 8.30am, ready for the next stretch. It was slightly overcast, but the rain was holding off and the forecast encouraging.

Sail boats and abandoned barge

Heading out round the edge of Deepdale Marsh, we could see the low bump of Scolt Head Island (another National Nature Reserve) ahead.

Looking towards Scolt Head Island NNR

The path here, as in many places, follows the top of a raised bank, making for easy going and giving good views over the marsh. We swapped greetings with the occasional dog walker or jogger, otherwise the early morning quiet was interrupted only by the sound of wildfowl and the swish of Goretex. 

Windmill near Burnham Overy

After leaving the embankment, we crossed a field to reach the road at Burnham Overy Staithe, and found this rhyme chalked on a board beside the Hero pub. These words come from the poem Linden Lea, written by 19th Century poet William Barnes and subsequently set to music by Ralph Vaughan Williams. It encapsulates a perfectly reasonable view on life.

Verse of the day #1

Linden Lea by William Barnes

Within the woodland, flow'ry gladed,

By the oak trees' mossy moot;

The shining grass blade timber-shaded

Now do quiver underfoot;

And birds do whistle overhead,

And water's bubbling in its bed;

And there for me the apple tree

Do lean down low in Linden Lea.

When leaves, that lately were a-springing,

Now do fade within the copse,

And painted birds do hush their singing,

High upon the timber tops;

And brown-leaved fruit's a-turning red,

In cloudless sunshine overhead,

With fruit for me, the apple tree

Do lean down low in Linden Lea.

Let other folk make money faster;

In the air of dark-room'd towns;

I don't dread a peevish master,

Though no man may heed my frowns.

I be free to go abroad,

Or take again my homeward road

To where, for me, the apple tree

Do lean down low in Linden Lea.

With no dread in our hearts for masters peevish or otherwise, we moved on through the village and down to the harbour, where we sat and watched the world go by and let other folk speed about their money-making. 

Burnham Overy Staithe

Looking back over the Okavango Delta, pods of Hippos browsing water plants
among shallow pools, and herds of Wildebeest roaming the vast plains.
Or is it the view across Overy Marsh?

Moving on, we headed out into Holkham NNR along a causeway path. The sun was gradually breaking through, but it was still cool in the brisk breeze. Before long, we reached the dunes, climbed to a low crest, and there it was: the Actual Sea!

The Actual Sea!

The next couple of miles or so to Holkham Gap simply followed the beach: blue skies, fluffy clouds and a landscape capable of reminding humans about their place in the Universe.

Big sky country, small people

Four horsemen: no immediate threat of apocalypse

Today is obviously literature day. This verse by Algernon Swinburne is definitely evocative of the landscapes of north Norfolk.

Verse of the day #2

From Holkham, the path followed a line on the land side of the dunes. The sun came out. With the increased shelter from the dunes, the temperature climbed, so we stopped to shed layers and eat lunch.

Behind the dunes

The next section, through Wells-next-the-Sea, was busy. Understandable, I guess, on a sunny Bank Holiday, but even though the path is not necessarily characterised by solitude it came as something of an intrusion. We followed the long straight path into town. This section, exposed to the full blast of the northerly breeze, was freezing, but that didn't stop us from passing a trail of under-dressed families heading the other way: in typically British fashion, it was sunny and they were near the sea, and they were damned well going to wear the T-shirt and shorts they had optimistically packed. 

Looking back to Wells-next-the-Sea

But soon we had negotiated the scrum, and were heading past the salt marshes towards Stiffkey. It's an unusual name for a village, but thankfully not pronounced as written: in local parlance one of the consonant sounds is unvoiced (stop sniggering at the back) and it is pronounced "Stoo-kie".

Our walk for the day ended a couple of miles further on at Morston, where we caught the bus back to Wells. Tired after a long day, and still in need of rest after several busy weeks, we scoffed a quick Chinese meal before heading back to the hostel, and were both fast asleep by 8.30pm. 

We were rudely awakened later on, though, when the fire alarm went off. In pitch darkness, bleary-eyed, and with boots flopping on our feet and fleeces hastily thrown on against the cold, we stumbled downstairs to assemble outside for roll-call. Fancy being woken in the middle of the night! 

It was only slowly that we realised we were the only ones out there in pyjamas, and everyone else was fully clothed. Surely they hadn't stopped to get dressed before evacuating the building? No: that was when we found out it was actually 9.45pm .........



Norfolk Coast Path - Day 1

Hunstanton to Burnham Deepdale - 13.00 miles

We first hit on the idea of walking the NCP after a very enjoyable weekend visit to north Norfolk last summer (details of which can be found HERE). We were much taken by the area, and made the decision there and then to return and do the full coast path sometime in the future. 

Often such promises take a while to fulfil, if indeed they are fulfilled at all. But, only eight months later, we found ourselves alighting the Coasthopper service at Hunstanton bus station, and making the acquaintance of some of the locals. 



Not sure if you can park there? 14 chicks on a visit to Hunstanton bus station

We'd set off early: a pre-6.00am start this time signalling the beginning of something exciting for a change, and not work. Arriving in Burnham Deepdale, we parked the car and had time for a coffee before catching the bus to Hunstanton. The plan was to walk the path from a base at Wells-next-the Sea, using a mixture of car and Coasthopper service to link the beginning and end of each day's walk. Even allowing for the reduced service on Sunday and Bank Holidays, it was an arrangement that worked very well, allowing a good deal of flexibility to each daily schedule.



The official start: gardens above Hunstanton cliffs

The official start is only a couple of minute's walk from the bus station, and - despite blue skies - there was a brisk, chilly wind blowing and a hint of rain in the air: think "looks like summer, feels like winter" and you won't be far off.

Sandy paths behind the beach huts

Soon, we left the cliff-top behind us, crossed a parking area and picked up a sandy path running behind the beach huts near Old Hunstanton. Despite the chill wind and blustery conditions, there were a fair few people about: some hunkering for shelter behind stripy wind-breaks, others making and altogether different use of the conditions.

One way of enjoying the conditions: a great day for windsurfing

Near Holme-next-the-Sea, the Norfolk Coast Path connects with the Peddars Way and together they form one of the 15 UK National Trails that tempt walkers from far and wide. The name hints at it's walking past, and is said to derive from the Latin pedester meaning "on foot", whilst the route itself runs arrow-straight for 46 miles to Knettishall Heath, near Thetford, following the route of a Roman road (although one school of thought suggests a pre-Roman origin, possibly an extension of the Icknield Way ancient route). 

Junction of the Norfolk Coast Path and the Peddars Way

Beyond Holme, boardwalk led the way through the dunes, helping to prevent unnecessary erosion and providing easy walking. As we were to discover, dunes form an important part of both the coastal ecosystem and sea defences: grasses bind the dunes together and prevent the sand from simply blowing away, although over time dunes can and do migrate.

Near Holme-next-the-Sea

Of course one of the key attractions of north Norfolk is the bird watching, with numerous sites of national and international significance to be found along the coastal fringes. The area is home, temporary or otherwise, to a huge variety of wildfowl, waders, sea birds and the like, and it wasn't long before we were reaching for the binoculars as we passed through the Holme Dunes NNR near Thornham. Over the course of the 4 days we were to encounter a number of unfamiliar species (including a couple of new ones - of which more later).   

Little Egret

Beyond Thornham, the route heads inland for a few miles. The countryside it passes through is nothing more exciting than archetypal agricultural farmland, and of no particular note. I suspect it is because no feasible route exists close to the sea, and it needs to skirt the Titchwell Marsh Nature Reserve. However it does make a change from sticking entirely to the coast, and adds to the surprisingly varied scenery encountered along the way.

Heading inland: offshore wind farm visible on the horizon

Just visible on the horizon is one of the numerous offshore wind farms to be found hereabouts. Interestingly, they all tend to be rather poetically named "shoal" or "array" (eg: Sheringham Shoal) as if calling them an offshore wind farm is somehow an embarrassment ... 

Arriving in Brancaster

The inland loop describes three sides of a square, and after around three-and-a-half miles brings you out in Brancaster. The route crosses back to the north side of the A149, then follows a line behind the houses along the edge of Brancaster Marsh.

Reeds against the skyline

By now we were nearing the end of our day's walk. The blue skies of earlier in the day had been replaced by solid overcast grey, and there was a threat of rain in the air. Not perhaps as much as during the recent winter, when rain and bad weather conspired to wreak devastation to some parts of our coastline, not least round here.



An indication of the damage caused during the winter floods

Finally we reached Burnham Deepdale, and popped out on to the road to collect the car. We'd covered 13 miles - not too bad considering the relatively late start - and found a bit more variety than we'd perhaps expected.

That evening, we made short work of a fish and chip supper, then hit the hay before the sun had set.

The Way We See Things

I’ve seen God.

At least, I think it was Him: with piercing gaze, trademark long hair and big, bushy beard, He looked just like He does in all those Renaissance paintings.  So it must be true, right?

Cleverly, though, in order to pass unnoticed through His people, he had swapped the traditional flowing robes for a faded sweatshirt and jeans, and instead of descending triumphantly to Earth by the traditional conveyance of a cloud, heralded by Cherubim and Seraphim and backlit by celestial light, He opted instead for a Y Reg red Fiesta.

Perception. The way we see and understand things can be affected by so many factors: quality of information, assumption, learning, stereotyping, or – sometimes – just a simple misunderstanding of the facts.

Before last weekend, if anyone had asked me how we were doing on the mileage front compared to late March any other year, I would have said we were well down. Lack of time and poor weather for the first few weeks must have impacted on our total. With evidence like that, it must be true - right?

Climbing out of Carding Mill Valley

But today's walk of 10.75 miles has nudged us over the hundred-mile-cumulative mark, and this puts us pretty much slap bang in the middle of the spread of totals from previous years.


Last Sunday we took on a circuit we have done several times before - from Church Stretton, on to the Long Mynd via Carding Mill Valley, over Pole Bank, down Minton Batch and back on a lower route of field paths and lanes through Little Stretton.

As we began our climb out of Carding Mill Valley, the schizophrenic nature of the day's weather showed itself: one moment we were bathed in spring sunshine, the next we were assaulted by winter sleet and hail.



Looking to Corndon Hill, with snow capped Cadair Idris just visible on the horizon



But by the time we had reached the top, conditions had settled and a gradual improvement to the day commenced. The walk along the top of the Mynd is easy enough, with good, clear paths all the way, and sections of metaled road in places. However, despite the ease of progress, the views remain excellent, and we could see not only the summits of the nearby Stretton Hills but further afield as well: enough to see that some of the other tops were getting a squally shower – and a light dusting of snow capping distant Cadair Idris.



Descending into Minton Batch

By the time we began our descent, spring had returned, and layers required to keep rain and wind at bay were hastily shed. Minton Batch is an attractive clough, and one of the quieter ways off the hill: still subject to the odd strafing by MTB riders, but comparatively peaceful for the most part. The only downside is the farm at the bottom: as we have commented before, the owner must have lost all sense of shame and self-respect, and – if anything – it was a worse mess than last time we passed: this being a matter of fact, not perception.

What a mess: since our last visit, a selection of three clapped out old
tractors has been added to the collection

More mess: black plastic wrapping hanging from skeletal tree
branches like huge dead bats

The final stretch passes along lanes and via fields through Minton and Little Stretton before meeting the road back into Church Stretton. Despite a relative lack of “match fitness” we were pleased to see our moving speed and walking time stats compared quite well to our norm, so perhaps we are not as far behind other years in that respect, either. 

Perception: it just depends on how you look at things. In this case, wrong about our achievements so far this year, but right about that farm!

 

Psychological Wharfe Air (2)

Well, at long last! After what seems like an eternity, we’ve finally got out into the countryside for a proper walk. You know the sort of thing I mean: a boots-and-rucksack-on, plodging-over-the-fields-and-climbing-a-hill type of proper walk. And, rather like the proverbial buses, one was very closely followed by the second.  

Weir by Linton Falls - much less water than last time we were here

And it wasn’t just the wet weather that had left us woefully short of outdoor time since Christmas. With each of us in a new job, and each in possession of a hefty workload, we couldn’t lay the blame purely at the soggy start to the New Year. OK, we’d set sail across some sodden fields on a couple of occasions, but to be honest it had been something of a relief to reach the shore. We'd also had the odd trundle round the local lanes to chalk up a few miles, but on the whole 2014 to date had been rather unsatisfactory.


Until now.


One Friday night each March, I make a sortie up north to support a friend in raising money for their local cricket team. It’s an evening of roast beef, beer and blokey ribaldry, which, these days, is usually followed by a hangover of notable proportions. As an antidote to this bout of "fundraising", Missy G and I have taken to making a weekend of it by spending a couple of days walking in the Yorkshire Dales. This year was to be no exception, and a favourable forecast has us champing at the bit to spend some quality time outdoors.

Couldn't have put it better myself: sign on Linton village green

 

Seeing double? Two little ducks. No, hang on, that's not right ....

Saturday saw us on one of our regular circuits from Grassington, a 9 mile outing starting off along the Dales Way, dropping down to Conistone via the Dib, then skirting through Grass Wood and descending to walk alongside the Wharfe, before looping up to Linton to return by Linton Church. Conditions were slightly overcast, but it wasn't long before my own personal cloud cover had been shifted by the breeze, and we soon fell into a gentle rhythm, enjoying the fact of being out there once again after such a lengthy lay-off. 

Sunday again started somewhat overcast. From Bolton Abbey, we climbed towards Simon’s Seat via the Valley of Desolation (a misnomer if ever there was one: this is a great path, full of interest and with plenty of wildlife for company – Brown Hares, Rabbits, a Mandarin Duck, Chaffinches, and a pair of Goosander) then out on to the moors of Barden Fell where Red Grouse were our frequent companions.

Waterfall, Valley of Desolation

 

Valley of Desolation - not to be confused with the Slough of Despond,
which is of course in Berkshire 



Looking back across Barden Moor, Ilkley Moor in the far distance (hat optional)

You ain't seen me, right?

After first lunch, a step descent down to Dalehead Farm returned us to the valley, and we soon picked up the Dales Way. By now, sunshine had broken through, and it was a lovely, warm spring afternoon. We took second lunch sitting on the riverbank, soaking up the warmth, before the final stretch through Strid Wood and back to Bolton Abbey. All in all, it was a pretty good 10-miler – and one which we will more than likely do again.

Simon's Seat from the descent: new erosion control measures in the foreground

Dales Way, near Barden Bridge. In summer, this area is covered in parked cars

The Strid

In a nutshell: spring had sprung, and we were lucky enough to be there when it happened.