DAY6

Saturday May 28th 2016                                                            

Kings Lynn to Kingston Upon Hull                                     Miles 160

Today nothing happened, or at least very little.  After a very interesting tour of Kings Lynn, Jim’s now home town, we crossed into Lincolnshire and nothing happened!

Jim took me to the old town of Kings Lynn, which is absolutely lovely, especially by the Minster.  Unfortunately we did not have time to go in.  If we had done I am sure that we would have been there two hours at least as I do love exploring English churches and Cathedrals.  So much history.  By the way I do hope that they have noticed that the right hand side appears to be leaning.  Perhaps just as well we did not go in!

The Minster, Kings Lynn

Taking the attached photo proved slightly challenging as for what reason I do not know, other than he might have wanted to be in a photo, a man drove his car right in front of the Minster and began to polish it!  Perhaps he was a chauffer you might think, but probably not as he was in shorts and smoking heavily.  He rubbed it all over and then drove off. Bizarre. 

We then went to see the statute of Captain Vancouver who was born in this city.  There is an interesting statue of him on the Quay, however it is not as big as I would have expected for the founder of such a great city (indeed two cities) that are named after him.  I think that Vancouver City Council should pay for a much bigger monument to him as a token of friendship with Kings Lynn.  It certainly would be cheaper and less self-indulgent than bike lanes!

Capt. Vancouver

We then crossed over the River Ouse and into Lincolnshire, by the unfortunately named village of Clenchwarton.  Lincolnshire is the produce garden of England and according to Jim produces one third of all the vegetables eaten in the UK.  Indeed Lincolnshire is especially known for growing potatoes.  This therefore means that there must be lots of fields – there are.  Fields are either ploughed waiting for the potatoes to sprout, or, covered with hundreds of miles of white plastic mesh to keep the birds off.  It also means that Lincolnshire is full of agricultural machinery, which when they travel on the roads results in slow, slow traffic.  They are expected to pull over after one mile to let traffic that has built up, go past.  This they do.  However, they have created such a gap in the traffic that as the first cars get past the first tractor a second tractor is waiting up the road, which of course is clear enough for him to pull out.  The cars released from the first tractor then catch up with and build up behind the second tractor and then behind the third, fourth and fifth and so on, right across Lincolnshire!  We were fortunate as today was a Saturday of a Bank Holiday weekend so most farmers had taken the weekend off – apart from two.

We stopped at Gedney Marshes as Jim had been told that you had a good view of The Wash from here.  We wended our way down a very narrow lane that ran alongside a navigation channel.  Interestingly they have here a big sign asking drivers to switch off their headlights if a ship is coming along the channel.  I expect that either they don’t want to dazzle the ship’s master, or the lights might be mistaken for navigation lights. However, I’m not sure what the poor car driver is expected to do if he has to drive next to a waterway at night with no lights.

We drove a few miles down this lane, got to the end and walked to the high bank above what we thought was the Wash, but, when we got there the ocean was not to be seen.  There was just a large expanse of nothing!  Grass and mud stretching as far as we could see.  Jim was very disappointed.  We hardly saw  the ocean at any time we were in Lincolnshire.  We were either in roadways lower than the banking built to hold back the ocean, or the ocean was many miles away across the mud fields.  Good for growing more potatoes no doubt.  So basically we saw nothing, because there is nothing to see.  One benefit of all of this though is that we stood still and also could hear nothing.  Silence, broken only now and then by bird song.  That in itself made the nothingness of Lincolnshire worthwhile.

Nothing In Lincolnshire

May Blossom on the Levels

Our next destination was Skegness.  Those of you who have read “The Road to Little Dribbling” will have seen the Jolly Sailor on the front cover of the book.  He is now the symbol of Skegness (or Skeggy as the locals call it).  He was once part of an advertising campaign to encourage people to come to Skegness.  The line for the advert was “Skegness is so Bracing”.  This is a nice way of saying it is windy and cold!  Our first stop in the town was Morrisons Supermarket.  Boy oh boy, I don’t think I have ever seen so many people wearing football shirts and track-suits gathered in one place since the World Cup finals.  And the Car Park wow, there was certainly a lot of car park rage going on.  We grabbed a salad (yes, honest we did) and fled as quick as we could.  We then drove to Gibraltar Point a bird watching area on a promontory to the south of the town.  This had a good viewing point but you certainly needed binoculars, not only to see the birds but also the sea!  The best thing all day happened here, there was a murmuration of starlings; a moving ballet in the sky.  What makes them do it I don’t know, but it is beautiful to watch.  The Point and the road leading to it is clearly the up-market part of Skegness with nice homes facing onto the golf course.

We eventually went into Skeggy town, which was true to its word – bracing.  There is the obligatory pier, some nice sand, but in the far, far, far distance, across the mud banks, possibly was the elusive sea.  Few people were on the beach, but the chip shops looked full.  Paul Theroux in his book, written in the 1980s, talked about the Mods (scooter riders) and Rockers (motorcyclists) who would meet at a seaside resort on a Bank Holiday, get drunk and then build up to a big fight on the Monday.  Well de ja vue, or the wheel has turned full circle.  There were groups of scooter riders and motorcyclists sitting outside the pubs and amusement arcades.  All seemed quiet when we saw them, but we were glad we came here on a Saturday and would be somewhere else on Bank Holiday Monday, the traditional day for a rumble!  We did notice a disability scooter on sale at a “Kiss Me Quick” hat and souvenir shop.  No doubt the owner thought he might have a good chance of selling it to an elderly Mod who wanted to remember his youth and join in the fun.

Driving on from here along the coast, eighteen miles to Mablethorpe, I swear that every mile of the road had caravan and chalet parks with the largest being a Butlins Holiday Camp and a nearby Fantasy World. 

We then took the main road to Cleethorpes and Grimsby, thirty miles of not being able to see the ocean, only flat fields and of course caravan and chalet parks.  At Cleethorpes we at last did get to see the sea, (or it might actually have been the River Humber) but it was perhaps a mile away.  The beach by the esplanade had good sand on it, then it became mud for about a mile out to where the water was.  We brewed a cup of tea on the Esplanade and looked across to Spurn Head the starboard entrance to the River Humber.  Just before Cleethorpes we spotted a public information sign that said “There are dangers associated with drowning”.  Duh - who wrote this?  The PC police no doubt, or a lawyer working for Cleethorpes Council.  Perhaps we should advise them that it might be more appropriate to say the dangers are associated with swimming.  By the time of drowning it is probably too late!  (Yes I know it is not only in England that people put up dumb signs). 

Cleethorpes is the holiday end of Grimsby, once one of England’s biggest fishing fleets.  Sadly no longer.  They say the fishing industry was killed by the EU, perhaps after the Brexit vote next month, it may come back again.  No doubt the “Vote Leave” campaigners in Grimsby are expecting this.  There is still a Fish Dock in Grimsby, but all we could see were cold stores and closed buildings, no sign of any fishing fleet (that we could see).

Our journey then took us along the Humber Estuary to the Humber Bridge and our crossing into Yorkshire.  Tonight we are staying at the Ibis Hotel in Kingston Upon Hull.  Clean and pleasant, but this being a Bank Holiday weekend meant that our preferred option of small B&Bs by the sea was not possible.  The only rooms were in hotels in city centres where people did not want to spend their holiday weekend.

I tried AirBnB once more.  Hopeless.

Tomorrow we head up the Yorkshire coast to the resorts of Bridlington, Scarborough and Whitby.  Hopefully, the sea will be in when we get there!

A Lincolnshire Hare

DAY5

Friday May 27^th  2016                                                              

Lowestoft to Kings Lynn                                                                      Miles 133

Today we have been to California, climbed windmills and traveled on a steam train – all on our coastal route.

Having arrived late last night we toured Lowestoft this morning.  It is pleasant enough town, but I was secretly disappointed that it was not my imagined seaside town with lots of fishing boats.  I know that the British fishing fleet has been decimated, but I was still hopeful that I might see some trawlers in the harbour.  Lowestoft is the most easterly town in England and Lowestoft Ness its most easterly point.  As I am aiming to visit all of the cardinal points of Britain, we of course had to drive to the Ness.  This was quite easy to do and is close to the RNLI Lifeboat station on the seaward side.  Lowestoft is divided in two by Lake Lothing, which forms the harbor and is the confluence of Oulton Broad, Oulton Dyke and the River Waveney. 

We decided to move on to Great Yarmouth only a few miles north and stop for breakfast.  Great Yarmouth is a town of two halves, pleasant enough, but not the place I had expected it to be.  It is at the mouth of the River Yare, which divides the town in two.  The harbor itself is on the inside of a promontory and is industrial in appearance.  On the other side of the promontory, just two blocks away and facing the sea, is a pleasure beach, a complete contrast.  There is of course the obligatory pier but the fun fair seemed untidy and uninviting.  Next to it we saw a sign saying “Free Parking for Paying Guests”, which seemed incongruous that you had to pay to receive free parking!

We could not find a greasy spoon with parking outside, so decided to treat ourselves to a good breakfast at the Imperial Hotel.  We were met by extremely friendly staff and given a lovely table in the conservatory facing the ocean.  They even put on the heating for us, as despite the weather forecast for sunshine over the whole of the UK, Lowestoft was cloudy and chilly.  The view was out onto another wind farm about a mile off the coast.  We counted 30 turbines, which was confirmed by our Ordnance Survey map.  Ordnance Survey must be the best maps in the world whether you are a walker or a driver.  Accurate, detailed, colourful and inexpensive.  They even offer a free app which you can use without WiFi to show where you are if you feel lost.

Our breakfast was superb and though there were only the two of us eating we had all four of the staff attend to our needs.  The waitresses enquired as to what we were doing and when we said “Driving all round the UK”, one said “How fantastic, can I come?”  We said OK, but you have just two minutes to quit your job, pack your bag and meet us at the car, as we are about to leave.  Needless to say, she felt that was too short notice!

The area west of Yarmouth and Lowestoft is the famous Norfolk Broads.  Numerous waterways pass through fields and reed beds and are a mecca for people seeking a peaceful time on the water.  Not on the coast, so unfortunately we saw little of them.

From Great Yarmouth things deteriorated and we began to see a plethora of caravan and chalet parks and they multiplied and multiplied all the way along the coast, well into Norfolk.  Most incongruous of all was the chalet parks at California.  If you ever book a holiday to California and it seems really cheap, check that it is to the California on the west coast of America, not the one on the east coast of the UK.  You will be very disappointed.  There are a number of places named Sidney in Canada and we frequently hear stories of people who think they got an unbelievable deal on a flight to Australia, but arrive in Nova Scotia where it is a lot colder and no kangaroos.  California in Norfolk is definitely not San Diego or LA!  California in Norfolk also happens to be by the ghastly named village of Scratby – you don’t want to go there either, though I can’t imagine this name would be mixed up with anywhere more exotic!

The road takes you in-land quite a bit, but whenever we could get back by the sea, chalet and caravan parks dominated the view.  Where do people come from for there to be so many of these places?  

The countryside in this area is lovely.  The seaside itself remains very much the same along the whole of this coast.  Beaches of shingle pushed up into steep banks with flat fens, marshes and muddy river outflows.  The first really pretty place we came to was Horsey a National Trust property situated at the end of a Broad with an ancient Wind Pump (mill).  

Horsey and the Broads

We then not much further on found a windmill that we could enter and explore at Stow, near to Mundesley.  This has been restored but is not operating.  We paid our entrance fee into the honesty box and climbed to the top.  Little to see by way of a view, but it was only as I was climbing down the very narrow stairs from each of the four floors that I remembered that it was exactly a year ago today that I had an argument with the Vicar of Dibley’s baptismal font that resulted in my breaking my right femur! This caused me to hang on tighter, but as my right wrist has also recently been under the surgeon’s knife, I took it very slowly and eventually reached the bottom without accident (phew). 

Stow Windmill

The Stow windmill and house is currently up for sale with permission to use it as a holiday let.  If you have  £550,000 to spend this charmer could be yours!   Caution though, before you buy a windmill in Norfolk you have to wonder whether Norfolk will still be here in fifty or a hundred years.  Most of the east coast of England is being eroded, but this seems particularly so in Norfolk, where it is either falling into the ocean or being submerged by the sea.  Go and visit it now, before it is gone!

All of the small towns moving further up this coast have so much more to offer the traveler looking for peace and quiet than the larger resorts such as Yarmouth.  We stopped for an ice cream (our lunch) at Overstrand beach and then went on to Cromer.  Another small town, pretty but not exciting, certainly compared with Sheringham, which was our next stop.  Sheringham is absolutely charming and seems to offer the traveler everything you could wish for.  From cutesy shops and places to eat, to lovely cottages by the ocean.  I did not see any chalets or caravans here (but maybe they were hidden away).  What is very prominent as you enter the town is the steam railway, the set for many a movie and the TV home of Dad’s Army at Walmington-on-Sea.  The smell of the coal smoke and the whistle of the steam engine called out invitingly to us, such that our driving had to be halted for two hours to allow us to take a coastal journey by steam train.  It was magical and even allowed us to see parts of the coast that we could not see from the road.  The journey was short, only 20 minutes each way, with a break mid-way to allow us to buy a cup of tea at the end of the line before returning.  The golfers at the very smart Sheringham Golf Club stopped their games to give us a wave, both outbound and inbound.

Sheringham Steam Railway

Before we left the town I tried to find and photograph a house that had belonged to the father of a friend in Vancouver.  I had myself only seen the house from a photograph so I had to drive around trying to identify it from the image in my head.  I think I did so.  What was so special about this man, who I met on a number of occasions, was that he had managed to escape from the Japanese in Burma and then went on to live to 103, only dying two years ago.

As well as caravans and chalets, Norfolk has windmills and big churches a plenty.  Most of the churches, even in the small villages, are large in size reflecting the wealth of Norfolk over time.  We did see three churches that have become derelict. One of these churches we noted had received a grant from the Heritage Lottery to be rebuilt as a village cultural centre.  Perhaps the good folk of Norfolk are losing their faith.

Another windmill - and anther one

Norfolk has extensive bird life, particularly around the broads and dunes.  We brewed a cup of tea at Holkham and watched for twenty minutes as a pair of Avocets flew at every other bird that came near to their newborn chick.  We also saw and heard Buntings, Meadow Larks and Warblers.  The other creatures in abundance were the twitchers.

The area from Holkham to Burnham Thorpe (the boyhood home of Lord Nelson) is known locally as Chelsea on Sea.  The homes are smart with a high proportion being second homes for wealthy Londoners.  Certainly no holiday chalets are located here.

We finished off the “hump” of Norfolk at Old Hunstanton and (new)Hunstanton.  The contrast here seemed to be a microcosm of so much of what we had seen along the Norfolk coast.  Old Hunstanton was smart and quiet with fine architecture of the old buildings.  Just one mile later in Hunstanton you come over the brow of a slight hill on to what should be a lovely village green only to see below, on the beach front, a gaudy fun palace and the green itself covered with people eating fish and chips.  There were even more holiday parks here, been built just out of site of Old Hunstanton.  

Across The Wash we could see Boston and Lincolnshire, our destinations for tomorrow.

Finally I have to say that the Norfolk accent is distinct accent, particularly in the country areas.  Norfolk folk don’t seem able to pronounce a word with “ew” in it, changing it to “oo”.  So they might tell you that they have a “noo tractor”, or that they have visited “Koo Gardens”.  They also pronounce other words differently. I still remember the first time I met anyone from Norfolk and heard them speak.  I was aged just 17 and had gone on holiday with Mike, a friend, to Jersey, one of the Channel Islands.  As we found it impossible to cook a meal or even buy the right food from the supermarket, we would go each morning to a local café where one of the waitresses took pity on us.  If we ordered a cup of tea, “on the side” arrived a full English breakfast, “on the house”.  Our Norfolk interaction came one morning when the waitress greeted us and said “I’ve got a special treat for you this morning lads.”  We thought that we were going to get ice cream. However, her idea was to introduce us to two girls and she sat us down with two very attractive maidens, one blonde, one brunette, both about our own age.  Mike and I looked at each other, pleased that it was not ice cream after all. 

None of us spoke for a couple of minutes then I, bravely, used my favourite chat-up line, “So where are you two from”? 

The blonde girl answered, “Us be frum Naarj”. 

“Sorry I didn’t get that” I replied, and I genuinely could not understand her. 

“Us be frum Naarj” she repeated.

“From Naarj” I responded, where abouts is that”.  “Naarj, youm know.  It’s the main town in Narfuck”.  

Mike and I both looked at each other and decided it was time to go.  Beauty really is only skin deep and it can disappear if you open your mouth!  I think what she was actually trying to say was. “Thank you kindly for enquiring where we come from.  My companion and I come from Norwich, the county town of Norfolk.  We like you and your friend very much. Would you like to take us out on a date?”

I put this experience on a par with my two Aberdonian taxi drivers in the toilet in Aberdeen!

After a tour of the Sandringham Estate (the outside) and a view of the road sign pointing to Anmer, where William and Kate now live, Jim directed me to his house, where his lovely wife Jean, had a meal ready for us and a very welcome glass of wine.

Tomorrow we set off for Lincolnshire and Yorkshire and some more very distinctive accents.

By the way if you have been trying to place a message on my blog, you are not able to do so unless you have a Gmail account (which is easy to open). The only other way to reach me is via my email.

DAY4

Thursday, May 26^th 2016                                                       

Southend to Lowestoft                                                                         Miles 218

Today I was joined by my good friend Jim.  He has taken over the navigation, having brought with him all of the Ordnance Survey maps for the trip over the next few days.  I have not given up on my female companion (in the GPS) but I am able to have more of a conversation with Jim.  Indeed we have spent so much time reminiscing and catching up that we missed a few turns!

I woke up this morning in “Sarf fend” (as the natives call it) to bright sunshine and this remained with us throughout the day.  It was made even sunnier later when Jim told me that he heard on the weather report that this region of the UK was the only place that would be sunny to day.  I must be truly righteous after all! 

I was not due to meet Jim until 12.44pm at Clacton-On-Sea, 50 miles away, so I had plenty of time to review more of Southend and places in-between.  I was last in Southend aged 11 years old, when I was taken as a day treat from London by a much older (20+ years) cousin.  We traveled out of London on the train and the return was on a boat to Tower Bridge.  I remember going to the fun fair, which is still there on the beach. However, the only other thing I remember is the journey back on the boat and throwing bottles into the water.  Unfortunately one of the ship’s crew took hold of me by the scruff of the neck and marched me up to the Captain.  The Captain was more understanding of the actions of an 11 year old, especially when he saw me crying and shaking.  He said don’t do it again and let me go.  I never told my cousin, but she could not understand why I was so quiet for the rest of the journey.

Southend has the world’s longest pier at 1 ¼  miles.  They had to build it this long to allow holiday makers to at least see the sea.  The tide goes out a very long way and this morning was no exception.  I stopped to take a photo and a young woman in another car did the same.  “It’s so unbelieveable this place you just have to take a picture don’t you” she said.  The mud is not all bad.  There was a man with a rake, spade and bucket, close to the pier, digging for lug worms as fishing bait.  No doubt they would be shriveled up by the time the tide came back in and he was able to fish. 

 Southend Pier from Shoebury

A Southend Lug Wormer

Close to the Pier I saw something called a “Genting Club”.  Now I know that Americans make up words all the time, but I had not come across this word in England.  I tried to imagine what such a club would be for.  It said Casino and entertainment, but I imagined that the emphasis more on the entertaining rather than the casino.  I did not see a “Ladying Club”, but I dare say that in the name of equality and fair play there must be one in Southend, probably just a bit further down the road I expect.

Going eastward along the esplanade you run into Shoebury and Shoeburyness.  This is the posh end of town, just the sort of place that you would expect to find a Ladying Club (but I still did not see one).  This is also where the Beach Huts start.  The other posh area is West Cliff.  I did not actually explore this, so perhaps the Ladying Club is located there.   If Sarf fend were by the Mediterranean rather than the Thames Estuary it would be a mecca for all gentlemen and ladies.

I then had to travel back inland quite aways to get around the River Crouch and down to Burnham-On-Crouch.  This is known to have quite an up market sailing club.  I met two members from here once and they told me that it was up market and very select, so it has to be true. 

I had stopped briefly in South Woodham Ferrers to buy some fresh milk for a cup of tea.  As I paid I asked the cashier “is there a toilet in the store”.  She answered quickly, “Yes, just behind the next aisle, up against the wall!”  “Isn’t that a bit too public and will I be arrested if I use it”.  This brought a hail of laughter from everyone else in the line-up.  But she was unphased and said “If you go behind the next aisle you will see door in the wall, you can’t miss it.”  Rather than allow her to say even more, I thanked her and went behind the next aisle and sure enough there was a door in the wall, which said, toilet.  But to add to the irony the products for sale on the shelf right by the door were babies and adults diapers.  Obviously they encouraged people to purchase these before the door was built!

In the car park of Burnham Yacht Club I brewed a cup of tea – in a teapot of course.  I purchased a butane stove and kettle before I left Devon just so that I would not miss out on a good cuppa.  I bought the stove just over a week ago in Budleigh Salterton in a camping shop that was having a sale.  I got it for £14.99, 50% off the list price.  I was chuffed with this, but they were out of the butane canisters.  Two days later I purchased some canisters at Darts Farm Shop in Topsham, which has a camping section.  After buying them a man came up to me and said he had just purchased a stove and what did I think of them.  I said they were brilliant and he would find them really handy.  I then made the mistake of asking him how much he paid for his.  “Oh, £12, the regular price”!  This quite spoiled my weekend!

Anyway back to my cuppa.  My kettle on the stove boiled quickly, but as I was pouring it a workman with a blower came along. He began blowing the grass cuttings that he and his colleagues must have just mown.  He then decided to blow off his clothes the grass that had stuck to them, so he turned the blower on himself.  He and his mates clearly thought this was a good idea so they turned the blower on each other.  What they did not appreciate was that though the blower blew away the grass, the dusty gravel and mud of the car park was also getting blown and it made a huge dust cloud that enveloped them.  I only just got back into the car with my cup before it passed over me as well.

After my tea I set off to meet Jim in Clacton, which again meant a big inland journey to go around the river Blackwater.  At its head is the town of Maldon.  Here I was amazed to find as I drove over the bridge, lying on the mud banks, three old Thames barges that looked in good order.  These were once prolific on the Thames and carried many different goods, both on the river and along the coast.  Years ago the boatmen used to have races with them.  Few now remain, but these no doubt are some enthusiasts pride and joy.  After leaving Maldon I had to drive to Colchester in order to get around further estuaries and get to the Clacton road.  I came off the main highway and drove a narrow B road as this was closest to the ocean.  I am so glad I did as, suddenly a I came around a bend, I saw a field of bright blue stretching into the distance.  This was flax, which in ancient times was used to make cloth.  I don’t know what they use it for now, but it certainly lights up the countryside.  I pulled off onto a narrow track to take a picture and had just done so when of course the local farmer and his tractor decided they wanted to drive down the track as well.  With many apologies I reversed back onto the road, but I got the photo I wanted.

I got to Clacton in good time so drove along the front to Jaywick, a very odd place where the roads were crowded with people driving rather thin motorized mobility chairs with plastic covers.  I expect that the elderly death rate in Jaywick is quite high, as they seemed oblivious of the traffic or of any rules of the road.  I was told later that Jaywick tops the list of the most of the most socially deprived neighbourhoods in the country.  I therefore assume that the residents being unable to afford a car have been able to persuade a doctor that they have some form of disability and thus qualify for one of these mobility chairs.

Jim’s train arrived spot on time and it was good to meet him again.  We quickly toured Clacton; sunny and charming.  The residents here can look out and see a forest of wind turbines about a mile out to sea.  There must have been fifty of them, but despite being a breezy day, not one of them was turning.  Why would someone go to the huge expense of building a wind turbine farm if they were not going to turn them on?  Perhaps they already had enough electricity for the day.

Jim advised me that where he lives in Norfolk the local folks spend hours looking at the wind turbines.  They have to stand so that two or three are in alignment and then they wait and wait and wait for that one moment when all of the blades are in perfect symmetry, for just that one split moment.  Apparently it makes them feel that their lives are worthwhile and is the big thing to do in Norfolk!

One thing that I did not see in Clacton was beach huts (maybe they were hiding them).  Continue along to Frinton-on-Sea and Walton-on-the-Naze and they return in droves.  Both these places were exceptionally clean and inviting, apart from the rather ghastly looking, but obligatory, pier at Walton-on-the Naze.

We traveled by narrow roads around Pennyhole Bay to Harwich, a major ferry port to Holland.  Quite a small town for such a large ferry jumping off point.  From Harwich the journey is back in-land again to cross the River Stour. We crossed the river at the pretty town of Mistley, but as Jim had his maps he identified a Tattingstone as a suitable place to take afternoon tea and eat the large tea cake he had purchased in Walton-on-the-Naze.  We stopped by a lake and brewed fresh tea and shared our over-large tea cake with a friendly Muscovy duck. 

Jim and his friend the duck

We had to go to Felixstowe as it would be a “hole” in the coastal journey to miss it.  This then meant a 7 mile journey down the opposite bank of the River Stour and back up again afterwards.  Felixstowe is Britain’s largest container port and reminded me of Vancouver and the container ships we see from our house.  Felixstowe is less then a mile across the river mouth from Harwich and there is a ferry, but not one that takes cars, so we had to take a drive of 35 miles just to get 1 mile as the crow flies.

Felixstowe is in the ancient and beautiful county of Suffolk and certainly the rest of our drive was through amazing countryside with picture book villages.  As I have mentioned before, although we are driving the road closest to the ocean, it does not necessarily mean that you can always see the sea.  But we did appreciate the country-side and all of the blossom and hedgerow flowers.  It really did make me feel that I was in England.

From Felixstowe we drove around Woodbridge.  Unfortunately it was now 5.00pm and we were not able to go to Sutton Hoo, the site of a Saxon burial.  Here the king, or at least person of high status, had been buried with his longship.  The grave site gave up lots of jewels and a fantastic helmet, which is now in the British Museum and I saw it there just two weeks ago.

We briefly stopped at the Snape Maltings, made famous by the composer Benjamin Britten and now an arts and concert venue.  Snape is close to Aldeburgh also majestic and with a timeless quality.  Driving out of the town we discovered Thorpeness.  This was an absolutely charming little village with a large Mere around which lovely homes were spaced.

Me at the Maltings

Inland again and then back to the coast at Dunwich, where we had dinner in the local Inn.  Dunwich was once one of the largest ports in England with a residency of over 4000 people.  Unfortunately in the 13^th century the whole town and port was overwhelmed by the sea and now nothing remains but a small village of only a hundred souls.  It is said that on certain low tides, at night, you can hear the old church bells ringing under the ocean.

More beach huts - at Southwold

Having eaten well and feeling tired we then drove through the equally charming town of Southwold and on to our hotel for our overnight stay in Lowestoft, which we will explore in the morning.