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.

Burnham Deepdale to Stiffkey: Greater Ridgeway and Norfolk Coast Path Day 34

Super day on the coast with sand, sea, salt marsh, creeks and many birds to delight the ornithologists.

Burnham Deepdale Backpackers proved a great place to camp. My pitch was sheltered from the wind I could hear blowing overhead, the toilet block was heated and I could buy a coffee and breakfast materials at the supermarket nearby from 7:00 am. So I began the day in a happy mood which continued as I walked into the salt marsh on an embankment. 

Leaving Burnham Overy, the Norfolk Coast Path follows an embankment beside the River Burn.

The bank was part of the sea defences and provided a flat, dry path with salt marsh on the seaward side and flooded fields and reeds on the other. Not a direct route as it turned back on itself as it approached Burnham Overy Staithe. Creeks meandered across the marsh, mainly mud when I started out with a small riverlet of water, but as the tide came in at midday they filled with water, raising boats moored in the larger creeks. The plants which grew on the marsh must be very special, surviving inundation with sea water at high tide. Curious as what they were I used my PlantNet App to identify a couple. One was Sea Purslane, apparently you can eat the leaves but I did not try, the other was Shrubby Sea blite, although PlantNet was not so sure.

Birds were the main attraction bringing out numerous elderly ornithologists in subdued clothing equipped with binoculars, spotting scopes and large cameras. Most birds I could not identify although I spotted curlews, egrets, oyster catchers and a flock of Brent geese on an area of grass. One gentleman asked if there were sea larks where I had walked from, I was forced to admit ignorance (apparently they are small birds with a yellow breast).

Burnham Overy Beach.

Ornithologists on Holkham Beach.

Beyond the salt marsh the open sea was often not visible, sometimes it was too distant, other times a barrier of sand dunes stretched between the marsh and the sea. I eventually reached those dunes crossing to the other side where a wide beach spread out beneath of wide sky. I walked over it for some distance, keeping to the hard sand below the high tide line. Skirting a group of bird watchers observing something small I turned inland to the "The Lookout". A café, with display boards on the Nature Reserve, laminated leaflets to help you identify birds and insects, and some "spotting scopes" you could use to look at birds and ducks through the windows between wooden uprights which rather obstructed the area of vision. However with the aid of the scope and leaflet I identified a shelduck. I could also see mallard, a grazing muntjac and a large group of lapwings. Then I wondered, did it made a difference putting a name to these creatures?

The trail continued on the landward side of a long stretch of pines trees. They had been planted on the line of dunes that lay behind the beach in order to stabilize them. Birch trees and reeds also edged my path. I was led to a straight embankment that bordered the main channel, the East Fleet, to the town of Wells-next-the-Sea. A new lifeboat station was being built and various boats and buoys lined the creek. Wells itself spread across the end of the creek. When I was last here in the late 1970s, there was still a commercial port exporting grain etc.. Now, apart from some lobster and crab fishing the main industry seemed to be tourism. Despite it being winter, elderly visitors were promenading and patronising the coffee shops. I found room in one to sit down to a fish finger sandwich for lunch.

After Wells and its harbour facilities the path continued between the salt marsh and farmland. Although most of the sky was mottled steel grey and blue grey, on the skyline there was a strip of the purest, palest blue. As the afternoon extended towards dusk, the clouds above this strip were blushed with toppings of pale pinky brown, delicate colours I struggled to photograph or describe. Maybe it was if the clouds had been dusted with my mother's face powder!

Turning off the coast path I walked to the village of Stiffkey and my bed for the night. Dinner was Wells-next-the-Sea Crab Salad, with chips of course!

Peddars Way: Some Comments

The Peddars Way is unusual among long distance paths as it is straight, following the path of an old Roman road. This also means it misses most villages. Castle Acre is the important exception, with its the extensive ruins of a Norman priory and castle. 

The southern part of the route is through the Thetford forest with birch, beech and conifers. North of the forest and for most of the way the path is over farmland, used to grow grain and raise pigs. Stands of trees are common, often with devices to feed the pheasants - game birds for shooting. Accommodation in pubs and bed & breakfasts can be found each night although it may mean a deviation of a few kilometres to a nearby village. Except for the Thetford forest section it is not ideal for wild camping, although if you are confident there are patches of woods to hide in. For food there are pubs where there is accommodation but few shops. I walked the trail in February and met others doing the same. In winter the bare trees and low sun have a certain beauty although I missed the flowers I would find later in the year. It also meant mud and pools of water on the track in places, and some accommodation was closed.

A relatively short walk at 47 miles, there is also a cycle route that differs in parts. Waymarking is good with the National Trail acorn sign used to mark the route and as it mostly proceeds in a straight line navigation is straightforward. Nevertheless, there a few places where it jumps around and a map, guidebook or gpx track is needed. Parts of the walk are on quiet roads, the rest on tracks, also used by motorcycles, or footpaths. For road sections watch out for footpaths that run parallel to the tarmac just behind a hedge. These avoid dodging cars and tractors. 

Not the most wonderful walk in the world but an easy one to complete over a few days.

Start of Peddars Way.

Ringstead to Burnham Deepdale: Greater Ridgeway and Norfolk Coast Path Day 33

A momentous day, I finished the Peddars Way and the Greater Ridgeway, crossing England, coast to coast, from the south west to the east on the chalks outcrop. Then I started the Norfolk Coast Path...I forget why.

As if to celebrate my final day on the Greater Ridgeway (also called the Great Chalk Way) the skies were a deep blue, cross-crossed by decaying jet streams. Leaving Ringstead, the village where I had spent the night, I noticed a sign at the gate of the church stating it was open. Churches advertising they were open seemed a trend today, although due to time constraints (I had a long day ahead) I only visited this one. It seemed appropriate to give thanks in God's house for my success so far despite my dodgy knee. Inside the church was a mural of all the ills of the world in the 1970s, not so different to those today including drug addiction, inter-racial strife and poverty. The policemen in the picture seemed ambiguous, were they to protect or threaten?

Skylarks were singing as I headed north on my final short section of the Peddars Way. A buzzard flew overhead. Passing a lady looking through binoculars I asked her what she had seen. In addition to 13 hares she reeled off a long list of birds from her notebook that she had spotted today. The number made me feel ashamed of my lack of observation. In my defence I lacked a pair of binoculars, although I would not have recognised most of the birds she named even if I could see them. She pointed out one in the field. It looked like a clod of earth to me, then three of them rose into the air and flew off, maybe they heard us speaking of them.

Final Norfolk Songline on Peddars Way.

After another barely intelligible verse on a slab of stone I reached the end of the Peddars Way and my walk across England on the chalk of the Greater Ridgeway. An anti-climax, just a finger post pointing back the way I had just walked and signs to the east and west for the Norfolk Coast Path. As the Norfolk Coast Path technically starts in Hunstanton I set off in that direction to discover "Sunny Hunny". I walked on hard sand between the golf course and salt marsh, then along the top of the beach and behind blue beach huts (I later saw one in an estate agent's window priced at £80,000)! Although I had hoped to have continued along the beach all the way to Hunstanton, admiring the pink and white chalk cliffs, my arrival coincided with high tide. The sea reached up to the jumbled boulders of old rock falls at the base of the cliffs, forcing me to follow the official route of the Norfolk Coast Path along the cliff top on a wide strip of grass in front of housing. I noticed there were multiple lines of fencing by the cliff edge. I assumed as the edge eroded away they erected a fence progressively further back.

Red and white chalk cliffs of Hunstanton at high tide.

The Norfolk Coast Path officially starts at a memorial to our "glorious dead", those killed in 20th century wars. Opposite a small slab commemorated those who died, glorious or not, in the 1953 floods, wreaths were placed beneath, memories still strong, whole families dying. With rising sea levels due to climate change I wondered if more catastrophic floods were likely in the future. After a coffee, muffin and stocking up on supplies in the nearby high street I returned to the War Memorial to start the 84 miles of the Norfolk Coast Path. 

Arriving at Holme, the first village on the route, a sign stated that the boardwalk was unsafe at a point two kilometres or so away and the path was therefore closed with "immediate effect". Details of a diversion were posted. I contemplated ignoring the closure and finding some way through, such closures are often unnecessary if you are prepared to go off trail onto rough ground for a bit, the authorities err on the side of caution. However, if I could not safely get through I would have to return, adding four kilometres to my already long day. So reluctantly I followed the many diversion signs, yellow arrows on laminated paper, which took me over fields, well inland. Not my idea of a coastal walk. I was disappointed especially as it added more distance to my day. At the end of the diversion the coastal path ran along the top of a bank, part of the sea defences against another big flood. Salt marshes lay on one side and flooded fields the other. This was much more interesting especially as I could see several species of birds and wildfowl of which I could at least identify a curlew with its long curved beak and a lapwing, black and white with its distinctive crest.

My enjoyment of this coastal area was terminated by another trip inland, this time on an official section of the Norfolk Coast Path. Presumably the path's creators could not negotiate a coastal route. So it was fields and pig farms again. However the final part of my day was an improvement, a board walk running behind Brancaster and adjacent villages. To my left the marsh spread out, sometimes with large beds of tall reeds, waving their seed heads at eye level, sometimes with winding creeks and lower level vegetation. By now, as dusk was approaching the tide was out, boats, large and small, old and not quite so old lay stranded on the grey mud of the creek bed, the water reduced to a few small patches. Some smaller boats and faded canoes were pulled into the reeds or onto rough roads. Behind me the sun was setting, hidden from me by houses, but reflecting off windows ahead of me, shiny orange rectangles ablaze with light. Turning frequently I could see the deep pink and grey clouds in the western sky (which my camera refused to reproduce)!

Creek by Brancaster.

Sunset.

Night was falling as I reached my campsite, erecting my small tent by head torch on a neat patch of grass by trimmed hedges. I stopped at the nearest pub for dinner, one of those places where they charge a lot of money for a modest portions arranged in pretty patterns on a plate. However, the beer and warmth has made me content and as I write this I am satisfied with all I have achieved.

Castle Acre to Ringstead: Greater Ridgeway Day 32

A day similar to yesterday on the Peddars Way.

Peddars Way.

My day began with me possibly damaging the new and complex coffee machine available for the use of guests at the inn where I was staying. Maybe I added coffee beans where I should have added water. Anyway it refused to work so I settled for a mug of tea with the muesli, banana and "Moo juice" provided. Then I struggled to open the blind in my room, possibly damaging that as well. No one was around to pay my bill, although it was after 8:00 am, so I rang up the manager and got him out of bed. Not sure they will be inviting me back...

Last night my left knee had been hurting and my right hip was not too good. However after starting to exercise and walk the discomfort disappeared or else I forgot about it. Walking seems to be the cure for my knee pain....but I worry it may also be the cause, especially if I push longer distances....like today at 28 kilometres.

Thin sheets of ice covered puddles, begging to be broken, and the sky was blue when I left the village, passing what appeared to be a water tower converted into a house. Must have had good views. Today's walk was similar to yesterday's, on a straight track, footpath or road on the line of an old Roman road through farmland with stands of trees. Most fields were devoted to growing crops, but many were used to raise pigs. Fields with a slight aroma, were filled with lines of their "houses". Around these simple, steel shelters, the hogs rootled about in the muddy ground, climbed over their troughs and each other, or relaxed, lying down on straw or mud. A litter of piglets scurried around before hiding inside their "house". I was glad the pigs could move around rather than being confined to stalls, unable to turn around. Eating meat would be difficult to justify if its production caused pain and distress to the animals. The one field of sheep I saw were artistically backlit by the low morning sun as they grazed in a field of stubble.

Today's hills were maybe a little more pronounced than yesterday's, although the inclines were still gentle. There were not many sights to break the hike's monotony: another stone slab with a farming related verse or "songline"; a trig point with a sign stating it was part of a GPS Network (not sure why it was needed); a bronze age round barrow; a distant wind mill and wind turbines; a group of trees that might have marked a "marl" pit (where marl, a mixture of clay and chalk, was dug as a fertiliser). An old oak stood beside the track, its contorted, gnarly branches raised like arms beseeching the heavens for a return its youth, as a strangling cloak of ivy climbed ever higher up its trunk. Other trees spread their branches as if to say welcome, while yet more seemed undecided, creating irregular shapes as if not sure which way to grow. Then again, as I looked at the trees I thought these thoughts were just the imagination of an empty brain!

Peddars Way.

Often I walk staring at the ground in front of me and so maybe miss something ahead. In this way I just caught an orange brown animal flash in the periphery of my vision, disappearing behind a hedge. I resolved to walk straighter and look into the distance, sadly this hurt my knee as I unexpectedly stepped into dips and potholes I had not seen, jarring the joint. Nevertheless I spotted one hare chase another around a field. Maybe a male wanting to mate with a reluctant female.

Apart from touching the edge of Sedgeford, there were no villages on my route today, so sadly no chance of a coffee or cake. Consequently, a mile or so before my destination of Ringstead I sat on a bench. One of three I had passed with little messages on like "take a rest boy", so I did, the elderly lady already sitting there said she did not mind. We discussed daffodils and the drifts of snowdrops I had passed. The snowdrops in her garden were still in flower having started at Christmas.

Peddars Way.

For dinner at my Inn at Ringstead it seemed appropriate to eat pork having seen so many pigs today. Maybe having pork for starters as well as the main course was overdoing it a bit, as I could not manage a dessert. All being well, tomorrow will be a momentous occasion as I will reach the sea and so complete my crossing of England on the Greater Ridgeway.....

....then I will start on the Norfolk Coast Path.

Watton to Castle Acre: Greater Ridgeway Day 31

A day in which blue sky fought with the clouds as I walked on the residues of Roman roads to Norman ruins at Castle Acre.

On my way back to the Peddars Way I walked through the small community of Merton. In the green triangle at its centre was a thatched, circular "shelter", the thatch turning slightly green, built to celebrate the Queen's Silver Jubilee in 1977. I wondered who might choose to shelter there and why? Overhead, grey clouds covered the sky as I walked over farmland on tracks with muddy patches, pools of water and occasional stands of trees. Last year's crops had either been reduced to stubble, or ploughed under. Green fields sprouted this year's wheat or barley. Scatterings of snowdrops spotted the sides of the trail. Beyond a slight rise a ragged band of pale satin blue stretched across the horizon between grey clouds. My camera refused to reproduce the blue, turning it white, despite my efforts to use different digital filters and under-exposing (Later I realised that the LCD screen on the back of the camera was partly to blame for the poor colour rendition, see the picture below). Gradually the area of blue widened to cover half the sky. From pale blue on the horizon to a deeper, richer colour higher up. My camera could no longer deny that the sky was blue! Periodically the sun penetrated the clouds, bringing warmth and light and colour to the landscape, changing its mood from sombre to contented if not actually happy. 

Can you see the blue band above the horizon?

A road section of Peddars Way walking towards a deep blue sky.

In my planning I had noted that a café should be open at North Pickenham offering the enticing prospect of coffee and cake. However when I arrived at the spot I had waymarked, all I saw was a Community Hub with no indication that tea might be on offer. I turned to resume my hike, checking Google as I walked. Previously I had found "cafés" on Google were plotted in the wrong location or else some teenager with a sense of the wicked had reported that their mothers house was a catering establishment. However the Google entry looked genuine so I returned to the "hub". In one of the halls they were serving tea and cake, so I avoided disappointment and bought a slice of Victoria sponge and a cuppa. Had I realised there was a Gregg's and Macdonald's a few kilometres up the trail I might not have persisted!

After North Pickenham the Peddars Way returned to a straight section of Roman road. For a while the track was framed by trees their branches meeting above, other sections had hedges with periodic trees festooned, or if the trees were dead, entirely enclosed, with dark green ivy. A stone cross stood by the track with a verse, similar to those on the stone slabs I saw yesterday. This time the words were about the prayers of men and women. A few motorbikes passed. Giant pylons strode across the landscape high above trees, bent by the prevailing weather. The wind was increasing, making the pylon wires hum, seagulls high in the air were blown around like ragged scraps of paper.

Peddars Way enclosed by trees.

As I approached the village of Castle Acre, I could see the ruins of its once large priory. Dating from 1090 this Cluniac monastery had once been very extensive. Arriving just as the ruins were being closed for the day, I was restricted to walking around the outside of the fence, looking at the great walls made of flint, and the move delicate masonry work of the church and its windows. In the village of Castle Acre a medieval gatehouse guarded one of the roads. It dated from when the village had walls to keep out intruders. A large area of earthworks defined the extent of what had been a large Norman castle built in the 11th and 12th centuries. High mounds and deep ditches extended over the site. Ruins of a circular wall stood at the top of the high sides of the "motte", which had a curiously lower area inside with the foundations of a tower. Flint was used as the construction material for the castle. Either flint or red bricks were used to build almost all the older buildings on my walk today. Although the gentle undulating landscape was unlike the hills, downs and escarpments of earlier in my trip, the flint in buildings and as stones in the fields showed that the chalk rock was not far beneath the ground.

On arriving at the Inn where I had booked to spend the night, I was told that the food service would end at 6:00 pm. I hurriedly showered and returned to eat the hotel's last portion of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding, a traditional Sunday lunch.

Castle Acre Priory.

Norman castle at Castle Acre.

A11 Rest area to Watton: Greater Ridgeway Day 29 & 30

After an enjoyable rest day with my cousins, a relatively short walk today on Peddars Way, out of the Thetford Forest.

Yesterday was spent catching up on family news, eating some excellent food prepared for me, exchanging greetings with very friendly dogs with comically big eyebrows and moustaches, in addition to laundry and learning more about the area. Today one of my cousins generously drove me to where the Peddars Way crosses the busy A11 road at a rest area, saving me a train journey and a long walk. I felt very blessed (as my mother would say).

After our goodbyes I turned to continue my walk north. Following the Peddars Way is easy. Not only are there multiple finger posts, the route is also very straight, a sign that I was on a road originally built by the Roman's almost 2000 years ago, possibly following an earlier route. At times on a single track road, on others a forest track or footpath, the landscape is not quite flat, but very nearly. Much of the day's ramble was through woodland and forest with occasional fields and one lake. On my left for one long section the path ran beside lands owned by the Ministry of Defence with numerous keep out signs. I was looking for stone slabs with writing carved on them as reported by my guidebook. Of the two "Norfolk Songlines" I found today I could only read the words on the second. They described surveyors creating a web of roads reaching "the edge of empire", presumably the Roman empire.

Watton was not on the Peddars Way but nearer Bed & Breakfasts were closed (opening March one told me), so I diverted into the town. I walked by small shops on the high street: a carpet shop, a funeral director, a café, a butcher, a bakery, estate agents, "International Shops" catering to people from Eastern Europe and beyond who have come here to work, finally reaching my bed & breakfast. After extracting a key with the code sent by text message I was into my room for the night. At a similar time, money for the accommodation was extracted from my bank account. Now feeling stuffed after over-eating at dinner after being tempted by arancini, chicken and chorizo tagliatelle and blueberry crème brûlée, my length of walk today did not justify it. By the time I had finished the wind outside had strengthened, flapping the loose material of a marquee standing outside, redistributing leaves and litter.

Peddars Way

The Hereward Way: Some Comments

Although the Fens may not be the obvious choice for a long distance walk its one I would recommend as it is so very different from other such paths (also good if you do not like climbing hills).

This February I walked the Hereward Way from its intersection with the Peddars Way in Thetford Forest to the Sixteen Foot Drain by Christchurch village. On a previous occasion I covered the next section to the town of March. Hiking through Thetford forest among the trees on this first part of my walk was pleasant although there was a busy road section and motorcycles roared by in places. Historic sites included a church or two. The forest ends a Brandon, a modest town with accommodation, a Chinese takeaway and similar facilities.

After Brandon the Fens began. A very flat area which was once marsh with a few low islands. Hereward the Wake, after whom the trail is named, fought the Norman invaders in this area in the 11th century, using the marshes to protect him from attack. Drainage has since changed the Fens into fertile farmland. The Hereward Way takes you around Lakenheath Fens, which has been allowed to return to reed filled marshland for the benefit of birds and wildlife. The trail crosses much flat farmland with its drainage ditches and crosses the Old and New Bedford Rivers which ultimately drained this area. The big skies and distant trees are a feature of the walk. The city of Ely was the main urban centre on the section of the Hereward Way I walked and well worth spending a day visiting its cathedral, stained glass museum, tea shops and other sights. As you might expect, the Hereward Way is very flat which may be an attraction for some as most long distance walks are over hills and mountains. Signposting for the Hereward Way was sparse and a map or gpx trail is needed for navigation. 

Ely to Christchurch: Greater Ridgeway Day 28

A day walking through the flat, fertile, farmland of the Fens.

Leaving Ely required some patience. The A10 road acts as a westward boundary to the city, at 8:45 in the morning it was thick with traffic tempting me to make an ill advised "run for it" between fast moving cars. Instead I waited a while to cross in reasonable safety.

Straight footpath across fields of the Fens.

Beneath clouds with ragged patches of blue I then followed quiet pathways and tracks over fields, pleased they were not muddy after a long period with little rain. Across this flat landscape the paths and roads ran straight, turning through right angles at intervals at the edge of fields either ploughed or green with winter wheat or barley. There were exceptions where the roads meandered. I was later told such roads were following the edge of old rivers, which once acted as boundaries. These rivers laid down silt, more stable than the surrounding peat, and more suitable for building houses, so settlements cluster around these water courses. Many of the rivers are now gone, eliminated by man made channels such as the New and Old Bedford rivers and the River Delph, cut ruler straight across the landscape. Into these new rivers water is pumped from the drainage ditches that criss-cross the landscape in straight lines and right angles. Fortunately metal footbridges were in place where the footpaths I was following crossed a drainage ditch. Today, big, yellow excavators with long hydraulic arms were out cleaning these ditches, clearing vegetation to reveal layers of clay beneath the peat.

Clearing out the drainage ditches.

My travels were frustrated by a closed level crossing forcing a detour to the next crossing point. With the flat landscape level crossings were common in the area. The railway line was busy with freight trains carrying containers, graffitied wagons and tank trucks, as well as smarter trains carrying passengers. As I walked along an embankment called the "Hundred Foot Bank" between the New Bedford River and the road, flights of white geese flew over my head, landing in large flocks on green fields to my right. On my left the fields were flooded, with many birds settled there. Later I saw signs of the Wildfowlers Association, so maybe some of the birds were being lined up to be shot!

Looking back down the Hundred Foot Bank, New Bedford River on the right (named after Duke of Bedford who was partly responsible for its creation in the 17th century).

As the road curved between the New and Old Bedford Rivers I admired the resilience of the willow trees, many were much damaged but still sent up shoots from their contorted trunks. Shortly after, the Lamb and Flag beckoned me in for a sandwich for lunch. Apparently little changed for many years, a man at the bar commenting that a large stuffed pike in a glass box had hung on the wall since his childhood. A few kilometres beyond and I reached the village of Christchurch, and beyond that a sign for Christchurch Farm,  "Private Road, Access Only". Although not signposted as such, the Hereward Way continued through the farm, however this was as far as I planned to go on this path, having arranged to meet my cousin for a rest day.

A day in Ely: Greater Ridgeway Day 27

A danger of long distance walks is that you are always walking, arriving too late and leaving too early to visit any places unique to a location. So I was not too upset by my unplanned day in Ely, famous for its cathedral. 

As with many medieval cathedrals its nave soars high up to the heavens. Stone carving is detailed, and delicate ribs interlace around an octagon in the roof at the centre of the building. As is common with today's smaller congregations, the functioning alter seems to have been moved into the nave from the chancel. In the Lady chapel, the Virgin Mary has quite a modern look, raising her hands in exhortation, not the meek and loving look normally associated with her images. In the gallery of the cathedral's nave is a Stained Glass museum. I particularly liked those associated with the Pre-Raphaelites and some of the modern works.

Nave of Ely Cathedral.

Octagon in ceiling of Ely cathedral.

The Virgin Mary behind the altar of the Lady Chapel.

Another site I visited was the house where Oliver Cromwell once lived. Its rooms briefly describe his life from a modest start through his success in the Civil War, to his period as Lord Protector, essentially the ruler of the country. Background information is provided on the times he lived in and the purpose of rooms in the house.

Ely has a lot of small shops, tea rooms and cake and coffee establishments. Consequently, I ate a lot of cake. My hair was getting increasingly unruly, especially in yesterday's wind, making me look like a mad professor. So I had a trim. The barber required me to wear a face mask. Some places insist on you wearing one, in others it is your choice. Despite the many cases with the current "Omicron" variant, the number of hospitalisations and deaths are down on earlier waves so I am hoping a return to "normal" is not far off...