I am a regular visitor to the northern coastline of Norfolk. I only live a few miles
away from some breathtaking scenery fringing some of the most interesting
beaches in England. Even out of summer, the views are spectacular. Some of the
shoreline can be remote in places but if you are willing to venture further than
most, you will surely be rewarded. Bird watches know every crook and cranny
in such places. They have been coming for years. Enthusiasts for wildlife even
longer. That is where the charm lies, say many.
An escape of tall pine woods and golden scrub grown out of the mouth of sand.
The dunes go on for miles with a canopy of coolness within reach of the grazing
marshes filled with noisy but thrilling bird song. When the birds are not in their
nests then the wind plays with the pine needles and cones and the dry grass
becomes more electric at low tide. When I had travelled in from far, on one of
those budget flights out of nowhere I was amazed how quickly you could transport
yourself from one extreme to another accompanied by a crescendo of transmitting
noise on route; only for it all to be suffocated on entering the frets crawling over
the dunes at lark rise.
I always had my accomodation booked early. Rooms were scarce after midday.
Making do would mean I would have more to do before reaching the coastal
deadline. The queue would be there somewhere on that twisting road, waiting.
Slowly, the car would come to a halt, stuck behind a convoy of caravans and
bikers. So, it was important, everything was worked out...timing.
The beaches around the coastal walks are mostly sand or shingle. I prefer sand.
Something about the clump of a boot coming out of the dry tuffs off the dunes
crunching onto the flat gives me a good feeling. The tide out and the shallow
craters of water hiss and gurgle but the sand is flat and firm with miles to go to
the seas edge.
Today, the weather is not good. August bank holiday weekend and the rain
begins to fall and the suddenly the scene changes to a moody one. With less
light everything looks glum with a track of shadows running down the pines and
over the scrub. And yet, the atmosphere commands. Waxed coats or rain macs
go on in a hurry and trudging off towards where the car hugs the side of the road.
The birds have gone silent in the reserve and that once brimmed container of
people soon becomes emptied.
In some parts of the coastal stretch there is the continual anquish of land
corrosion with the sea knocking on some unfortunates door. The knock is a slow
and constant one. In one part of the coast some twenty five homes have been
lost and many more lie perched on the edge of this vulnerable coastal precipace.
The air now is bracing. The crinkling buffs underfoot go flat and then spring up again. The shingle path glistens under the puffing foam of the incoming tide.
The boots go back into the boot of the car and suddenly the black sky opens up.
If you are thinking the weather will not put you off. Then let me recommend
visiting in April. When I was last there, I had it all to myself. Children at school,
workers working and just the peace and quiet of the roads and the villages to
go through. If you arrive in August, everyone and everything is there. I think
you know what I mean.
Plenty of accomodation....guesthouses with charming character dating back to
Tudor times. Flights by Flybe and KLM. You have the boat trips and boat hires,
the excursions into the countryside to medieval towns. Eating crabs and oysters
and mussels and lobster...eating and drinking in quaint pubs and restaurants....
also the lovely city of Norwich at the centre of the County with its historic
buildings and churches....the magnificent cathedral and library just some of the
delightful landmarks.