Greater Ridgeway also known as the Great Chalk Way: Some Comments

The Greater Ridgeway Way crosses England from Lyme Regis on the south west coast of England to Hunstanton on the east coast. Four trails combine to create this long distance path: the Wessex Ridgeway, the Ridgeway National Trail, Icknield Way and Peddars Way. The last named is also a National Trail and as such is combined with the Norfolk Coast Path. On my trip I added on a few extra bits, part of the Hereward Way to visit my cousins, and the Norfolk Coast Path.

Although the soft, white rock is rarely seen, the route follows the outcrop of the chalk as it dips gently south, for this reason the trail is also called the Great Chalk Way. (There is a modest difference as the Great Chalk Way deviates from the northern end of the Wessex Ridgeway following the newly defined Cranborne Droves Way to Salisbury from Win Green, and continuing up the Sarsen Way to the start of the Ridgeway National Trail, not being aware of this option at the time I stayed with the Wessex Ridgeway).  For part of the way the chalk creates escarpments, steep slopes falling to lower ground to the north, giving panoramic views in suitable weather.  As you head east into Cambridgeshire and Norfolk the land becomes flatter, any hills just gentle swellings, smoothed by the last ice age. Most of the land is farmed. Grass, sheep and cattle predominate in the west, grain and pigs in the east. There are patches of forest throughout of which Thetford Forest is the largest. Although the route often seems to avoid towns and villages those that are on the route are usually pretty, with a centre of older buildings, a church, a duck pond and a pub. Many of the older buildings are made of flint, a hard material found as nodules and bands in the chalk, others are of orange red brick. Larger urban centres on the route are Lyme Regis, Devizes and Letchworth. Luton, Dunstable, Hitchin and Hunstanton are not far from the trail.

I walked the route in January and the first half of February, a time when poor weather should be expected and suitable clothing is essential. However, I was fortunate in that the weather was unusually dry, although I was fully prepared for rain, or colder conditions. However I was glad it stayed dry because of the mud. On my first few days, rain had turn the ground liquid, and mud became widely splattered. I wore my waterproof over trousers, as although they became very muddy I could remove them before entering a Bed & Breakfast or a similar clean building. Later, as the mud solidified somewhat, gaiters provided adequate protection. Rain in England is not confined to the winter months of course, see for example Abbie Barnes video of the Ridgeway on YouTube. Shortly after I finished a series of storms hit Britain resulting in very high winds, walking in such weather would not have pleasant and camping in my light weight tent out of the question. A risk of hiking at this time of year.

I stayed mainly in Bed & Breakfast accommodation, usually associated with a Pub or Inn. Due to the number of nights and the current cost of this type of lodging, much higher it seemed to me than in previous years, my trip proved more expensive than any of my previous expeditions. My camping was confined to when no other accommodation was unavailable. I only camped six nights, and only once in an official campsite. The reason I did not camp more often was that the campsites were closed (or closed to tents) until March or April and the farmland was not ideal for wild camping outside a few forests. Walking the route after this time (and before sites close in November) would allow more camping, saving money. There would also be a greater choice of Bed & Breakfasts, as a number were closed at this time of year. Pub food was also more expensive than I expected, partly because places seemed to be aiming upmarket, with for example "gourmet burgers" rather than the normal sort. Another advantage of walking the route outside of winter are the flowers, in spring and summer flowers would add colour and variety, bluebells in spring, ox eye daisies in summer. Then autumn brings yellow and russet as the trees change colour with rose hips and hawthorn berries adding red highlights. However, winter has a certain type of beauty with the low sun and bare trees on the horizon. Frosty days with mist filling low lying areas were especially magical although less common than one might expect.

I walked 813 kilometres (508 miles) over 39 days (5 1/2 weeks) including rest days, but if I had just walked the Greater Ridgeway without my excursions on the Hereward Way and Norfolk Coast Path the distance would have been 597 kilometres (271 miles) which I would have covered in perhaps 26 days including rest days.

Links here take you to key points in my blog:

Start of Greater Ridgeway and Wessex Ridgeway;

Comments on Wessex Ridgeway;

Start of Ridgeway National Trail;

Comments on Ridgeway National Trail;

Start of Icknield Way;

Comments on Icknield Way;

Start of Peddars Way;

Comments on Peddars Way;

Start of Norfolk Coast Path;

Comments on Norfolk Coast Path.

This linked YouTube video may also be of interest if thinking of walking this route.

On the Wessex Ridgeway.

On the Ridgeway National Trail.

On the Icknield Way.

Norfolk Coast Path: Some Comments

Compared with other coast paths I rather liked the Norfolk Coast Path as there was no climbing up and down valleys with total daily ascents similar to treks in the Alps (see my experiences on the South West Coast Path), most of it is fairly flat. Secondly there were no long detours inland around some estuary or extending out onto some peninsula, only to return shortly after. Thirdly, the scenery was attractive to me, as were the birds, wild fowl and grey seals, which lazed on beaches that were remote from people. 

For the first half of the coast path (starting from Hunstanton) salt marshes predominated. An unusual habitat with an austere beauty, its creeks, just muddy meanders at low tide, dissecting the flat, grey-green land beneath a wide sky. Bird life was abundant and varied, and decaying boats and rotting remains of old jetties had a curious beauty. Beyond the marshes in the distance one might see a line of light reflecting off the sea, or else a string of sand dunes. 

Long sandy, beaches dominate the second half of the Coast Path, either backed by sand dunes or crumbling cliffs of earthy rock. Whereas the salt marshes were a sign of land being added, on the latter parts of the route, the sea is eroding land away. Groynes, concrete and large boulders are a perhaps futile attempt to hold the sea back. "Holiday villages", rows of white trailers, were a frequent sight on this part of the walk.

Most of the Coast Path is close to towns and villages with accommodation and food. The towns of Hunstanton, Cromer and Great Yarmouth have long been visited by tourists, although the later is more of an industrial town. In February when I visited some places were closed, especially campsites taking tents, from April there would be more choice. However, the path is suitable for walking throughout the year, with the birds and seals, varying in number and species according to the season, however it can be a little more windy in the winter months.

Waymarking is generally good, and even if you loose the exact route of the trail, it matters little as you simply follow the coast.

Gorleston-on-sea to Ipswich: Greater Ridgeway and Norfolk Coast Path Day 39

My final day of this trip, finishing the Norfolk Coast Path before continuing to Ipswich to catch a train home.

Breakfast consisted of cornflakes, coffee and orange juice left by the owner of the Bed & Breakfast. I have not seen the owner, when I arrived the key was in an envelope stuck to the door, money was taken directly from my credit card. The arrangement meant that I could leave early without any delay for when breakfast was served or paying my host.

Gorleston had a promenade with paths at the top and bottom of a steep grass covered slope. In front was a wide sandy beach. In a refreshing breeze I walked along the highest path at the top of the slope. A large herring gull sounded as if he was laughing at me as I admired rays of sun breaking through gaps in the clouds on the horizon. On the beach dogs were being walked and joggers exercised. One dog was running rapidly in wide circles ignoring its owner's desperate whistles. Benches beside the path were dedicated to dead, departed people  by loving friends and relatives, a few had bouquets of flowers tied to them, maybe marking some anniversary. Back towards Great Yarmouth a large jack-up drilling rig was moored, its "legs" high in the air, lights glinting as if in celebration..

Gorleston-in-Sea Promenade

Groynes

Leaving Gorleston the coast path followed the beach. Waves crashed through groynes arranged parallel to the crumbling cliffs, creating periodic explosions of spray. Reaching a point at which I had to choose between a route along the beach and an alternative one inland, at first I tried the beach. Unfortunately the tide was high, and in places I was being forced onto the large boulders of granite (technically they were probably a gabbro as they lacked quartz) which here provided the sea defences. With a long train journey ahead I neither wanted to get my feet wet walking on the sand, nor slip on the wet boulders and injure myself, so I was sensible and returned to where the alternative route began.

The Norfolk Coast Path ended at a point which seemed to lack any special interest, there was no monument, just a wooden finger post pointing back stating "Hunstanton 87 miles". I assumed it was just the end of the county of Norfolk and that I was entering Suffolk. I continued following the cliff top with a detour where the cliff had eroded away the path. Then I joined a road and continued to the outskirts of Ipswich. After detouring along the concrete promenade of North Beach for a final view of the sea (and another holiday park), it was then time to find the railway station to start my long journey home.

Sun breaking through cloud this morning.

Sea Palling to Gorleston-on-Sea: Greater Ridgeway and Norfolk Coast Path Day 38

Highlights were seals on the beach and a posh outdoor breakfast, lowlights were a strong headwind while walking on soft sand and by lengthy suburbs.

All was well overnight, I was cosy in my tent. Despite the wind's efforts the pegs did not move. I was away early hoping for a colourful dawn, however the sky was too overcast to see much. My path was along the back of the marram grass covered dunes for several kilometres. I periodically peeped over the dunes, climbing over them where footpaths allowed. After Horsey Gap car park I was amazed to see large numbers of grey seals on the beach. Far more than I saw on the boat trip two days ago to Blakeney Point. Mainly close to the sea and in groups spread over a few kilometres. Yesterday I had seen only one, which I only spotted after seeing the trail it left going up the beach, a central depression flanked by many small, sharp marks left by its claws. Until then I did not realise that seals had claws! In all cases I stayed well away from the animals, as instructed by numerous signs. They come to these beaches as they are remote from where people live and I have no wish to spoil that. I was told that numbers have increased greatly in recent years.

Seals on beach south of Horsey Gap.

Norfolk's Edge Airstream trailers offering a welcome breakfast.

By the time I reached Winterton-on-Sea I was ready for a coffee and some breakfast (in addition to the flapjack I ate before getting out of my sleeping bag). I was delighted that there were three silver, aluminium, "airstream" trailers, one with a hatch open ready to feed me. The menu was pretty sophisticated, I went for the smoked salmon bagel with crème frâiche and capers. For the remainder of the day I leaned into strong headwinds either in the dunes, often on soft sand, which was tiring, my feet sinking in with each step, or on the long sandy beach, where I tried to find firmer substrate by the water's edge. On occasions I was not sure which the Coast Path was meant to follow, not that it made a great difference. Numerous "Holiday villages" with lines of white trailers were spread liberally along the coast behind the dunes, notices in their windows stating they were hibernating and no valuables were left inside. Although there were some villages with real houses, none seemed to have a convenient café for my elevenses. 

Walking through the dunes was tiring as my feet sank in a little with each step.

In the distance I could see supply boats, which supported the offshore gas industry, waiting at sea, and a large jack-up drilling rig moored by Great Yarmouth. This town is by far the biggest on the Norfolk Coast Path and took a considerable time to walk through. First section was with the sea, the inevitable wind farm in the distance, and marram grass on my left and on my right a long strip of suburban housing. Next section was the "pleasure" area; a boating lake with a café which served me coffee and a scone, a pier with funfair rides, numerous amusement arcades and similar sea side establishments. The final part of Great Yarmouth was the industrial area lining the river, with moored ships and services to support the offshore gas industry and wind farms. A huge contrast to the remote area of beach occupied by seals that I had visited this morning. Somewhere in this urban landscape I left Great Yarmouth and entered Gorleston-on-Sea, returning to an area focused on tourism. Waves were crashing on the pier where the River Yare entered the sea and long waves swept up the river on the high tide.

As I ate my last evening meal of the trip this evening, I was thinking ahead to returning home. The novelty of "eating out" at a restaurant was long over, and not wanting to wait around for dessert, I returned to my Bed & Breakfast with thoughts of my wife.

Great Yarmouth.

Cromer to Sea Palling: Greater Ridgeway and Norfolk Coast Path Day 37

A windy day walking along beaches and eroding cliff tops.

Walking through Cromer I found some narrow streets of old houses to admire. Earlier in my trip on the Ridgeway the flint on the outside face of churches and houses had been split to show the grey blue interior of the nodules. Here the pebbles of flint used in the walls were unbroken, rounded and often painted white, although most buildings were of brick. Leaving Cromer a kilometre or so behind,  I stood on the cliff top, looking back at the pleasure pier and people walking their pooches on the beach, the dogs chasing lime green balls or each other. Above me (and a golf course) a red kite twisted and turned its tail feathers and wings to remain stable in the buffeting mind. Later I saw a kestrel hovering, my first of this trip. Lost in my observations I missed a turn down to the beach and continued to Overstrand village along the top of the crumbling cliffs. I dropped down to the beach huts to rejoin the coastal trail, only to be directed back up the cliff by an acorn symbol, National Trail sign shortly after. For the rest of the day the path alternated between a cliff top route and one along the beach.

Looking back at Cromer from the cliff top.

Information signs on the sea defences seemed to provide contradictory  information. Some suggesting it was futile to try to stop erosion of the cliffs, that protecting one section merely moved the problem elsewhere. Much effort had been expended in the past to protect the coast by building long concrete walls or steps at the top of the beach, or installing wooden "groynes" stretching out to sea to halt the lateral movement of sand along the coast and capture any coming from the other direction. Wooden groynes had also been installed near the top of the beach parallel to the cliffs to break up the waves, a practice I had not seen before. Around the Bacton Gas Terminal another sign explained that a new approach was being trialled, dumping large amounts of sand on the beach which had been dredged from the sea bed. Waves then expend their energy redistributing the new sand rather than attacking the cliffs I suppose.

Several villages were visited today, the trail taking a particularly intricate pathway around Mundesley for no special purpose, except maybe to pass a café where I had a bagel for lunch. Admittedly I did loose where I was actually meant to go and so maybe missed the museum my guidebook recommended. At Eccles, the village consisted of small, cute bungalows of various ages and designs. I felt maybe they had been built as holiday homes but had become permanent residences for those wanting a quiet place by the sea. Sea Palling had a café where I purchased a coffee and some donuts, individually cooked for me with a choice of sugars. I enjoyed them looking at a stall for buckets and beach balls opposite while listening to the whirr and machine pronouncements of an adjacent amusement arcade to and from which people came and went. On the wall the height of the 1953 flood was marked, so high its effect must have been devastating but maybe a sign of the future with global warming. 

Café selling fresh donuts, note the height reached by the 1953 flood.

A tractor ploughing a field beside the Norfolk Coast Path attracting a large flock of sea gulls. 

As the afternoon matured the cliffs gave way to dunes which I followed either on the beach or on a track beside farmland. I was planning to camp in the dunes somewhere after Sea Palling. I try to be discrete, wild camping without anyone knowing, but as I was looking for a suitable spot with the light fading, a man with two friendly, gentle greyhounds guessed what I was doing and wished me a good night. Walking around with a big pack, away from any villages, as night is falling makes it easy to work out that I am looking for a place to camp.

I found a place to pitch, hidden from the main footpath among the marram grass, not sheltered, but not too exposed. My tent is now energetically flapping in the wind, so I hope no pegs come out overnight. I listen to the wind's noise in the grass feeling comfortably warm in my sleeping bag, but knowing I have to go out in the cold one more time to answer a "call of nature".

Cley-next-the-Sea to Cromer: Greater Ridgeway and Norfolk Coast Path Day 36

A sunny day beside the sea on stony shingle and cliff tops.

After the coast path led me around the back of Cley-next-the-Sea, there was a little marshland with excavators working on the drainage. I spotted an egret, confirming my identification of this white bird, a sort of small heron, with a person who was photographing it. Then there was a stretch that had been worrying me. It was one of the reasons I stopped at Cley last night rather than walking further. A decision supported by Phoebe Smith's guidebook which recommended delaying the next six kilometres until the morning. Six kilometres of shingle was the problem. Small pebbles one to three centimetres across that crunched as your foot sunk a little way into them. Making small depressions in the shingle on each step takes a lot of energy, and my knee was refusing to acknowledge that it had an easy day yesterday. 

6 kilometre stretch of shingle after Cley-next-the-Sea.

Looking down the long, straight, pebbly beach, the far end lost in spray from the white foaming waves, I tried to decide the best part of the shingle bar to walk on. The rear of the bar was bounded by a fence, beyond which there were some expanses of water with birds being watched by bird watchers with big lenses. I started by walking close to the water's edge where there were sometimes patches of hard, wet sand. Although it allowed me to admire the waves at close range I also had to take speedy steps to avoid the bigger waves as they swept higher up the beach. Also the firmer, sandy surface frequently changed to unstable shingle. I tried the back side of the bar, disturbing an ornithologist photographing what looked like a group of sparrows pecking at the shingle, but were probably something very rare. On a few patches where grass had bound the stones together I made faster progress but they did not last and were of transient benefit. For completeness I also tried the top of the shingle bar, but it was no better. Best tactic was to think of something else as I trudged on, starting with the type of pebble. Most were flint but there were some white quartz among the smaller sizes. I imagined canoeing into and out of the waves wondering if there was a risk of breaking my neck if the canoe capsized and I hit the shingle hard.

It did all eventually end. The land rose up and the path followed the edge of the cliff top. The cliffs looked unstable. With a critical eye I thought they looked like a sedimentary deposit of Tertiary age overlying the chalk. My phone's iGeol App told me I was wrong, they were Quaternary, from the time of the ice ages, and what is more, signs later on explained that remains of mammoths had been found in them (confirming their age), and even the footprints of very early humans. My geologic skills are slipping! Whatever their age they formed hills steeper than I had experienced for some weeks, especially the alliteratively named Beeston Bump. Here radio transmissions were intercepted during the last war by WRENs (ladies not birds). Notices informed me that there was a path closure before Sheringham, that work on the path was underway and a diversion was marked. I ignored them and kept walking. No sign of any work or any closure.

Beach at Sheringham.

Sheringham was a touristy town where I had quiche, cake and coffee for lunch. Although plenty of people were about, being out of season many places on the narrow streets were closed, including it seemed the Wind Farm Visitor Centre. A pity as I had been looking at a distant offshore wind farm all morning. After Sheringham there was a succession of "holiday villages", places with ranks of static caravans. 

Looking north from the Beeston Bump, note the holiday villages.

Tonight I am staying in another holiday town, Cromer, in an Edwardian hotel built at a time when turrets and spires were in fashion. Slow service in the dining room.

Stiffkey to Cley-next-the-Sea: Greater Ridgeway and Norfolk Coast Path Day 35

A short walk today and a cold boat trip to see the seals.

Leaving Stiffkey I continued between the salt marsh and farmland. High tides had swept a thick "mattress" of old vegetation, straw and seeds, onto the path in places, elsewhere it was muddy, people making detours up a bank to avoid getting their trousers dirty. On the mud of a creek, curling beside the trail, I was pleased to spot a redshank probing the mud. I had provisionally identified this bird before but this was the first time I had come close enough to see its orange legs.

Creek by Morsten Quay

Reaching Morsten quay I noticed a sign for seal tours. Last night I had Googled these trips but could find none scheduled. However, John Bean's tours was running one 30 minutes after I arrived. As today's hike was a mere 11 kilometres I had plenty of time and thought a boat trip would allow me to see the area from another viewpoint. Although not the best time of year to see seals in this area, we were fortunate. We saw a small group of grey seals, non-breeding females and a few males, lying on the beach on the north side of Blakeney Point. Our captain told us the breeding females head north at this time of year. The point itself is an attractive location for seals as it is remote from people. It is also growing west across the mouth of the natural harbour behind the point at a rate of two metres a year due to long shore drift. By the time we were returning back to Morsten quay I was getting decidedly cold due to the icy wind.

Grey seals on Blakeney Point.

A couple of kilometres further along the coast path and I was at Blakeney, a charming town with a narrow street of old houses. I warmed up in a bakery over a coffee and gin & bergamot cupcake.

After a few more kilometres of walking on top of the embankment built to keep seawater out, reeds each side, I was in Cley-next-the-Sea. A little further and I was at my Bed & Breakfast. There was some delay obtaining my room due to water related issues so I relaxed with a pint of "Ghost Ship".

Cley-next-the-Sea.