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!

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.