Norfolk

I saw the grand

The Palladian mansion Holkham Hall

and the dilapidated.

Quayside workshop

The idyllic

A peacful morning in Old Hunstanton

and the bleak.

Flat, flat, flat!

And I know where my heart lies.

I spent several hours one afternoon walking along the North Norfolk Coast Path.  It’s a long distance path along windswept shores and I picked a section going west between Holkham and Brancaster.  It was just about 10 and a half miles.  The first stretch was through miles of sand dunes, which can change shape overnight in strong winds.  Walking through the dunes you don’t see much except sky and the blue sea thistle.  And the odd naked man.  As you approach Burnham Overy the dunes fall away behind you and you find yourself walking along the top of the raised sea defences.  The land is flat here; there are no majestic cliffs to break the skyline and all you see are salt marshes stretching for miles.  This part of the coast is famous for it’s bird watching. Egrets, gulls, swans and curlews were two a penny, but I didn’t see anything more unusual.  (Note to self: take a pair of binoculars next time.)  In places, you walk along narrow board walks across the marsh with towering grasses on the seaward side and neatly clipped gardens on the other.  Walkers were rude.  At home everyone says hello, but here I’d step off the path to let people pass and not receive so much as a nod in thanks.  So I found myself singing a sarcastic “thank you” at the top of my voice as I stepped back on to the boards.  Nothing. Not a murmur.  Heads down, eyes fixed they trudged along like a defeated army.  These people, I thought, were as grey as the leaden skies.

I find it hard to describe my feelings about this landscape.  It was wonderful, elemental, but so bleak and exposed.  So, so different from home.  There was nowhere to shelter, nowhere to sit and take in the sky without also taking a battering from the winds.  It felt desolate, and at times the desolation felt like it would go on forever.  I would love to be there at dawn.  I can imagine the mist rising from the marshes in a watery light and the silence being broken by the dawn chorus. I’d sit there on the grassy path atop the sea defences, wrapped up in a blanket and a thick woollen scarf, breathing the sharp air.  My eyes would be closed and I’d be listening intently to the curlews. I’d ignore any passer by that broke my reverie with a “good morning” and I wouldn’t care if they too thought me as grey as the leaden skies.

A 10.5 mile walk between Holkham and Brancaster

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Holkham Hall

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Hunstanton

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Hope enjoyed the photo albums.  Back soon.

Love Stephie x