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.
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.
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.
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