Norfolk before Suffolk

I do want to devote entries on this blog to our trip to Norfolk and Suffolk and they would, of course, have come earlier had I not succumbed to tonsillitis last week. It never fails to surprise me how much the different areas of Britain differ, a fact that is all the more surprising when one considers how small our country really is. However, it was a point that truly proved itself during our visit to East Anglia.

It is perhaps twenty years since we last visited Norfolk so we expected changes and I confess that, save for Southwold, I do not recall visiting Suffolk before. I planned our route and booked a variety of hotels and gastro-pubs with rooms in advance, finishing our visit by staying with good friends who have recently relocated to a small village close to Woodbridge.

Our accommodation did not disappoint and I can thoroughly recommend the Kings Head at Letheringsett, The Norfolk Mead at Coltishall and The White Horse Inn at Sibton. The food was excellent at all of them, the proprietors were friendly and the accommodation, which varied from a very small double room in the eaves to a suite with a separate living room spread over two floors, was perfect for our needs.

We went armed with our National Trust membership cards taking full advantage to park for free in its car parks, use its tea rooms where you are always guaranteed fare of good quality, shelter from the rain in the stately home at Bickling, as well as enjoy the delights of various other properties and, of course, the North Norfolk coastline. Indeed the variety in the places offered by the National Trust in that part of the country is worthy of a blog entry in itself, so I shall describe them in more detail subsequently.

Our trip very much started in Kings Lynn which established itself as a Hanseatic League port back in the 14th century and has retained a maritime character with old warehouses and the Customs House still there to appreciate along the wharf at the edge of the River Great Ouse flowing into The Wash. It prospered as a port for centuries and its wealthy past is reflected in the historic buildings in the town centre including the magnificent Guildhall. 

From there we proceeded along the coast. Journey times are slow in this part of the country with A roads very much narrower and more winding than one would expect. The houses are traditionally built of brick and flint, in  a style very much unique to this region of the country too.

We made stops at Brancaster, Blakeney and Cley by the Sea, walking out onto the sea marshes. If they have changed since our last visit two decades ago it is perhaps only in terms of the number of people now visiting, especially out of season. We did notice, however, that, presumably attracted by the flat landscape, our fellow visitors were, like ourselves, clearly retired. Indeed, dare I say it, I almost felt young! 

From the coast we moved to the Broads, the inland meres and waterways formed by peat digging centuries ago in an area where the land is rarely more than a few feet higher than sea level and water is pumped into dykes to prevent flooding (hence the windmills that used to dot the landscape but are not now so much in evidence). We were both a little disappointed by this area of the county; Mister E when he realised that after his ocean going experiences, sailing on the Broads would no longer invoke the excitement he recalled from a sailing trip in his teenage years; me at the apparent lack of character in some of the villages (although Horning was a gem) and also at the sameness of the landscape which was flat and vast but without a view.

Next we journeyed down the east coast appreciating the need for the huge defences which block the view of the sea even when only a short way inland but sadly very much necessary to protect the villages and agriculture behind them. At Caister on the Sea we gaped at the wind farm situated on a sandbank just offshore, dominating a beautiful sandy beach which was deserted in October; a sharp contrast to the North Coast which, although out of season, was still clearly popular with holidaymakers, walking on mud and enjoying the scenery rather than building sandcastles. 

We then passed quickly through Great Yarmouth, which may be a famed seaside destination, but with its neon signs and amusement arcades did not entice us to stop. So it was that we crossed into Suffolk and, for us, uncharted territory...