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.
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).
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!
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