Fri 20th Sep 2013 Well-Next-The Sea to Sheringham
I woke early on day 2. We all woke early.
Actually, we all woke repeatedly, most of the night due to the nasal tympani of the man in the lower bunk who as far as we could hear had inhaled an entire menagerie of wildlife.
There were 2 possibilities by 6.00 am.
1. Get up, have a pee, and go to the kitchen. Have breakfast and a chat and then all pack up and head off.
2. Suffocate the fucker and then for good measure kick the shit out of the lifeless corpse. Just for personal gratification. Then be arrested and serve a minimum of 12 years, probably longer
As much as the latter appealed, and trust me it did, we all chose for the former, and went to the kitchen, made a brew and planned our days.
Andy’s feet were very unhappy little bunnies, and add to the that, that his hips were extremely sore after carrying the world (about 40lb) on his shoulders, he had decided to stay an extra day.
His wife and son were coming to keep him company.
And he had hired a family room, to save the snoring and the potential of a long prison sentence.
I went up to the room and packed my stuff making as much noise as was possible. The bastard didn’t even stir, just snuffled away in his nasal oblivion, and sounded like a warthog.
Said au-revoir to Andy with a man hug, and wished him well.
Then I set off through the shortcut by the church to the road, then up to the harbour and along to the right to pick up the path out to Warham Greens, that runs along the edge of the marsh that stretches all the way to the sea.
There is a staggering amount of wildlife along this stretch, and a decent lens to get close up, plus some binoculars are very useful if you you are a fan of bird life.
I had a 50 – 250 lens and a monocular.
If I went again I would look to taking a 200 – 600 zoom.
Of course that would mean buying one, since I don’t own one, and the only lens I do have is a very very old Pentax 500 non zoom lens that is so large it could have fallen out of the cliff face at Naverone.
Any way none of this will get the days story told.
So I headed along the path.
Not much to say here.
Lovely vies across the marsh out to sea. Huge numbers of assorted birds.
It is a pity, that the only thing that spoils the view is the sight of what is at least 60+ wind turbine thingies saving the planet (as if).
Or maybe just making the company and shareholders rich with the subsidies that they have been given out of our pockets to build the inefficient and ugly monstrosities under some misguided EU dictate that we have been dumb enough to adhere to because of the misinformation our politicians appeared to be working under, far out to sea.
Still, better out there than all over the fucking land.
(sorry about that little rant. You listenin’ ED?)
I carried along slowly across to Stiffkey, and then along the Stiffkey greens.
I met a coupe who were walking a dog who said it was very wet underfoot. So I was expecting wet feet and 6 inch deep water.
I am not sure what their view of wet underfoot was.
Obviously that have never walked in the Monadhliath or the Balmaccans.
|Pipe running out to sea|
|The superb green track that runs across stiffkey greens.
A bit like a Wade road
Between Stiffkey Greens and Morston, there is a raised causeway that cuts off the small lake. There are also many small and large boats.
Personal choice , I loved it.
Especially the swans walking across the mud flats
|Approaching the small lake at about TF 98 44|
|Birds on the Lake off to the right of the path|
As the raised path leave the lake to the right it goes round the inlet from the sea
|You can see the Swans walking across the mud flats behind the boat|
|Looking across toward Pitts Point|
I carried on towards Morston where there is a small cafe, and I stopped for a sit down and a cup of cappuccino, and a short chat with a chap running the information centre.
|View from the Cafe|
Then slightly, but NOT totally refreshed I headed off along the new track towards Brancaster.
|You can just see Brancaster in the distance|
It was a short walk into Brancaster, although the path does meander a bit near the end. Brancaster appeared to have been taken over by old people. Yeah, ok, I am heading towards OLD people, but these were people who as an average had become resigned to old. Even the ones who weren’t old had an old air about them. You know the sort. 40 somethings going on 70.
|The Windmill at Brancaster|
At Brancaster the path goes out round to Blakeney Eye and then back almost to Cley.
This path was absolutely full of people bimbling.
Big groups of meandering bimbling people.
Far too many people to have a nice walk.
So, instead I carried on, and followed the path to Wiveton Hall, where they have a rather fine fruit farm and also a nice coffee shop.
Thus instead of walking, I cut off 3 km and had a pot of tea in a dainty little teapot.
Ok, and a pretty little chipped mug. I didn’t complain, it was a nice cup of tea.
The sun was out, and I was able to listen to the foursome opposite, waxing lyrical about the problems they were having in renting out their holiday cottage, and all the dreadful things that can go wrong, and on and on etc etc etc.
Fucking rich townie types that come out, buy up a cottage, rent it out, pollute the countryside and then piss off back to Londinium or wherever they are from.
Well, if that last little rant doesn’t piss someone off, then nothing will.
So, where was I?
Oh yeah, I ad me cuppa cha din I an eaded orf ta da road init guvvner an I took the track by the ‘all.
Half way down it I noticed a sign that said Private Road.
Bit late now, I carried on walking.
It mentioned something about dangerous exit, so I assumed it was for cars I came out onto the road and then headed into Cley, passing over the small bridge and then round to the Windmill.
This bit is not very well marked, although it is fine if you have a map.
If you so miss it, you can always follow the road that goes all the way out to Cley Eye anyway.
|The shingle beach.|
At the start of the beach I turned right and headed along the shingle towards Salthouse and then Weybourne
I had been warned about this stretch.
I had been told it was hard going on this very very loose and sinky shingle
It wasn’t hard going.
It was FUCKING DREADFUL GOING
This bit has fabulous views to both sides.
On your right there are excellent marshlands full of bird life.
On your left views out to see.
But underfoot it is a bastard.
At times the path hardens (a bit) where it has been walked, but you still keep arriving on more shifting loose shingle.
The problem being that it moves about and sinks when you step on it.
Then shifts when you push off.
It is just bloody hard work.
AND THE LAST THING ON EARTH MY KNEE NEEDED
But, it had to be done so I carried on
|Lovely views out to sea|
|Apart from rows and rows of these bastard things|
|And lovely views onto the marshes|
|Wetlands off to the right|
|Guns at The Quag|
|Looking down to the sea on the way to Sheringham|
This is the sign that a friend of a friend said.
Where on Earth is Unstable?
And the rest are the cliffs on the run into Sheringham
|Also looking back
Sea to right (obviously)
Golf Course to the left
|Looking back from just before the Lookout station
which is the highest point
|Final view before descending into town|