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A trip to Norfolk is always an adventure. A glance at the map and it almost feels like it could be round the corner. In relative terms, it is. The mileage isn't significant, but the time required is. The equivalent journey time and a flight to southern Spain would have been perfectly achievable. The long and winding road came to a grinding halt in Grantham, just across the Lincolnshire border. The crowds had come to see the statue of the "Grocer's Daughter". Only joking, it was some roadworks with 3 way traffic lights on a pivotal junction. The temperatures were rising and certainly in the opposite direction, so was the frustration of the queuing motorists. The line snaked up the hill towards the army barracks. I made a mental note to avoid the bottleneck on the return journey.
The roads of Lincolnshire are often pitted with danger. The road signs warn of the dangers of speeding and highlighted the casualty figures to date in 2022. The long straight sections are an open invitation to put your foot down. The average speed cameras mounted at intervals are a deterrent for you not to think of making up the time already lost.
Deep drainage dykes flank the roads, from which there is often no way back. A steady stream of traffic therefore just plodded on in the morning sunshine. A lot were probably heading for a rare sight of the coast at the newly re-christened of Skeg-Vegas. The train won't have been an option today, as another of the planned strikes was well underway. The marketing types have had a field day recently, dreaming up a new identity for Skegness. They came up with the genius of adding a replica of the Las Vegas, Nevada welcome sign. The Skeg version reads "Welcome to Fabulous Skeg Vegas - Not in Nevada". Fabulous? Not in Nevada - definitely. Selfie hunters are apparently flocking to the resort to get their own Instagram snaps. Whether they turn round and go home after the photo op is not recorded.
We turned for Norfolk and the road towards Kings Lynn. The next major obstacle is always Sutton Bridge. To be fair, the obstacle isn't the village. The only point to cross the River Nene on its way to The Wash, all traffic converges on Sutton from miles around. Always busy, guess what? Roadworks on the bridge and
3 way traffic lights. Grantham de ja vu. As before, the serious queue was in the opposite direction. I made another mental note to return by a completely different route. We paused by the border between Norfolk and Lincolnshire. Our Vera - the Brown Eyed Girl - as you might have seen mentioned or noticed, is a Norfolk Terrier. This is her return to the "Mother County". I say return. She has never been to Norfolk before to our knowledge. She posed for the obligatory photographs - you can take the girl out of Norfolk, but you can't take the Norfolk out of the girl. She gave us an indignant look .... so you think you are talking me on a busman's holiday? Ratting in a Norfolk barn? I explain the price of Instagram fame to her. An opportunity for @verathenorfolkterrier which was too good to miss. All was forgotten, when she was handed a piece of raw carrot. As my mother would have said in exasperation, "dogs and kids". We skirt Kings Lynn, the former Bishops Lynn until Henry VIII intervened. The locals just settle for just plain Lynn. The traffic slows on entry to Hunstanton, a west facing
part of the north Norfolk coastline - the only place in Norfolk, that you can see a sunset apparently.
Hunstanton or "Sunny Hunny" as it is known, was the vision of a certain Henry Le Strange. In 1840, he recognised the potential of the area of coast between the old lighthouse and the sand dunes towards Heacham. The masterplan was anchored by the first building - a hotel overlooking a central green gently sloping towards the sea. Le Strange purchased plans for the hotel - now the Golden Lion - from Decimus Burton. He was well connected by virtue of his works at Hyde Park, London Zoo and Kew. The trigger for success of the town was the extension of the railway from Lynn and the purchase of the estates at Sandringham by the Royal Family in 1862. Hunny was on the map. Today, Le Strange surveys his achievement from next to the Golden Lion. A large bronze statue looks satisfyingly towards the sea. He is flanked by Town Hall of the bustling resort. He shares his view with the seagulls, who compete for a position on an old market cross just in front of him.
Old Hunstanton
was rammed with cars and people. It was a lovely day. It was warm. Too warm. We couldn't quite believe that car parks would be closed off for this reason alone. The "full" signs were being displayed. Cars were circling in a frustrated manner. We chanced on a free on street space and took the opportunity. It transpired the reason for the commotion was the British Amateur Ladies Golf Championship had started the previous day. All eyes in Ladies Amateur golf were on the Old Hunstanton course. We wandered down to the dog friendly beach, passing the RNLI station and the beach huts in the dunes. Bodies lay everywhere on the sand. People were making the most of the sunshine. Groups of schoolchildren were surprisingly among the throng. The school field trip centre of Norfolk had come to Old Hunstanton to add to the traffic. It was way too hot for Vera, do we headed for some shade in the Old Hunstanton Cafe. Vera introduced herself to a local Norfolk Terrier, whilst we plotted a woodland walk for her out of the direct sunshine. Walk complete, we headed for our overnight destination.
Great Massingham is about 15 miles from
the coast and a different world. "A beautiful Norfolk village", proclaims the village website. They are not wrong. The Church of St Mary sits proudly in the village centre, adjacent to the village shop cum Post Office. A couple of splendid oak trees adorn the village green. Great Massingham has not one, but two duck ponds. Ducks are well catered for in these parts, although I noted a rather hostile placard in another village a couple of days later. It read, "too many ducks cause pollution". Ducks you have been warned. Not everyone in Norfolk thinks you are an asset. Great Massingham has another duck of note, the Dabbling Duck. We stumbled on it as an accommodation choice, because it hits the dog friendly spot. Dog friendly rooms available and your 4 legged friends are also welcome in the bar, restaurant and at breakfast. A bit of further research turned up quite a food reputation too. Lord Sugar himself described it as his favourite Norfolk lunch spot and had recently give the chopper a run out to sample the fayre. Whisper it, but the Royals have also popped in for a feed too. The Cambridges live nearby. Could you get
a better recommendation than that? I suspect not and certainly not at menu prices that I consider reasonable too. We are northern and I like to think I'm not easily parted from my money, unless it is value. We checked in. The room was perhaps on the small side, but pleasant enough. We decamped downstairs to sample the bar offering. Woodfordes and Adnams from across the border in Southwold featured - both decent and less than a pint in the local back at base. We had a table booked for 7 pm. The restaurant wasn't full, but I suspect booking would certainly e advisable on a weekend. The staff immediately made a fuss of Vera. A bowl of water was brought for her, along with a treat. If dogs could talk, she'd be saying, " It's alright here, we will come again." The Other Half had fish. I had a posh burger. Both excellent. The thing we liked best about the place aside from the quality was the friendly nature of the staff. It was all efficient and slick, but there was none of the airs and graces often associated with the sort of establishment that gets Lords, Ladies and
royals through the door. I wish it had been available for the 2nd night of our trip. Alas not and we checked out after a hearty breakfast.
The sun was beating down again and the temperature ramping up even at 9 am. We once again sort tree cover. We drove to nearby Sandringham. HRH wasn't in residence, although we did see some rather better than average Police vehicles about to suggest other members of the close family could have been around. Wills and Kate have their family home on the edge of estate. The House and formal Gardens were off limits with Vera in tow, but there are acres of woodland to explore. The parking was a slick ANPR system paid on exit, so there was no need to immediately think about the duration of our stay. We strolled under the tree canopy for a couple of hours. Vera spotted loads of squirrels, 2 deer, another Norfolk yapping his head to signify he too had a squirrel in view up a tree, but no corgis.
It was a meandering road to our next destination at Wells next the Sea. We avoided the coast as far as possible to
minimise the traffic. Wells-next-the-Sea - to distinguish it from other Wells elsewhere in the country - is now a small tourist town. The description is apt. It isn't really Wells on Sea, because the sea is some mile or so from the town down a rather narrow channel. They always seem strangely to omit the more "to" the Sea" from the title - it is always "next the Sea". The population clearly booms in the summer and at festive weekends and tourism is now the big earner. In yesteryear, it was a booming port exporting grain and malt and in the 1970s and 80s was involved in the fertilizer business. The quayside is dominated by the big grain store with loading gantry crane arching out over the road towards the moorings on the quayside. Today of course, it is luxury apartments - the last ships departed in the 1980s. The granary was built around 1904, but somehow looks older. The interior is now full of all mod cons and a 1 bedroom apartment can run you £1000 a week in the summer season! The price tag doesn't quite match the resort below. The quayside is nice enough, but there is
the same bucket and spade feel like larger resorts such as Great Yarmouth as opposed to the genteel refinement of somewhere like Aldebrough. It wasn't particularly busy, but the elaborate depth of the off street queuing system in one of the takeaway fish n chip places suggested significant numbers arrived later in the season. Disney would have been proud of that queuing organisation!
A few boats were tied up by the quay, but as I said earlier the sea is some way distant down the channel. On the Beach Road, an unusual wooden hut carries a depth measure to show the tidal surge possible. A more unusual method of measurement lies across the other side of the water. The Lifeboat Horse is 3 metre high sculpture of a horse and a tribute to the horses that pulled the old lifeboats down to the sea to be launched. The sculpture is made from steel bars and whiskey barrels and has been in permanent situ on the sandbank in the channel since 2019. At low tide, photos suggests it stands proud on the sandbank and when the water is higher, it is literally up to its neck!
The area where
we parked was the more upmarket Georgian quarter known as The Buttlands. A square is flanked by some rather prestigious looking properties and also features the Globe Inn and the Crown Hotel. Parking around the Green was free and unrestricted, although getting a space in a weekend peak season could be a lottery. The establishments are both dog friendly and allow dogs to stay. We opted for lunch in the Crown, which was very relaxed and quite good value for the level of service. We had looked at staying over here, but the prices on the date in question were a bit prohibitive. The crab sandwich for lunch hit the mark though and despite the rising temperatures outside, it remained cool inside. It was no more than a 10 minute walk down to the Quayside ... just follow your nose down one of the main shopping streets - Staithe Street. I was particularly taken by a sign outside one shop - "Dogs welcome. Well behaved children on a lead allowed".
Onwards and upwards along the coast, we headed back to Burnham Market. Burnham is often quoted as one of the prettiest villages in various awards, although it seemed more
small town. There was a more upmarket feel to the shops commensurate with a description I read - Chelsea in Norfolk. Visitors and locals competed for the available. Drinkers enjoyed the sunshine outside the Hoste Arms. I walked along to St Marys Church and we then proceeded along the coast to our overnight in the village of Thornham.
Thornham stretched along the main road back towards Sunny Hunny. There were 3 dog friendly accommodation choices, but we had opted for the Orange Tree opposite the church. The others were the Lifeboat Inn and Chequers and an exterior reconnaissance suggested both seemed good places too. The Orange Tree was formerly the Kings Head - the sign near the entrance was a giveaway.It was a warm evening and the outside beer garden tables were well populated. One of the golfers from Old Hunstanton tournament rolled in - a certain young Brit hopeful called Esme Hamilton, if if I am not mistaken. She had been leading on Day 1. The Orange Tree pale ale was pleasant enough and the food was equally as good. However, we both felt more at home in the Great Massingham environment. Hunstanton was a lot more relaxed
on our return journey - the main golfing crew having disappeared. The temperatures had relented a bit and there was a breeze blowing. We walked along the cliffs separating the main town and Old Hunstanton. The ruins of Edmunds Priory sit atop the cliff along with the Old Hunstanton Lighthouse. The old Coastguard station sits next door. It was originally a Marconi wireless station built in 1906, but as with the changing world of north Norfolk is now a holiday let. We had a coffee in the cafe on the cliff, that seems to have cornered a decent line in cakes and apple pies. We walked back to car, photographing the wolf by Edmunds Priory. In legend, the wolf protected Edmund's body after his death. True? Who knows? Stranger things have happened. After all, Kate Bush is Number 1 again as a result of a tv series.
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Rainyb
Lorraine Brecht
hmmmmm what is that 'hallway' sticking out?