0710 Up early on the second day of my four day trip to East Anglia and a walk before breakfast to have another look around the Maltings - even more majestic in the early morning sun - and wander through the adjacent Snape Marshes. Spot curlew, tern and what I note down as ‘mystery bird’ which is not a great help. The marshes are deserted – even the usual clutch of dog walkers are missing. Return for a hearty breakfast with two fried eggs and the rest. Today is largely about exploring this part of Suffolk on my bike before taking the train to Norfolk to sleep in an ex-stationmaster’s house...but more of that later.
1017 Head out of Snape following byways to reach Aldeburgh on the coast at the mouth of the River Alde (Incidentally I have noticed that there are large numbers of pig farms around here, the variety where they have mini Nissen huts in a muddy field). The wind is getting up with a promise of much stronger to come if the forecast is to be believed. Pick up some fruit from the Co-op and head to the sea front.
1051 Aldeburgh is photogenic, with decaying fishing boats standing isolated on the long straight shingle shore. For those boats that still launch there is a sort of Heath Robinson ramp covered with grease to run up and down. The half-timbered ‘Moot Hall’ stands where the town council used to meet and is now a museum. Young families sail toy boats nearby in a pool seemingly made for the purpose - the parents having as much fun as the kids. Lots of odd buildings dotted around – check out the photos to see what I mean.
1113 The wind whipping across the endless shingle beach starts to chill me through my light cycling clothes and I don my jacket. Walking along the back streets I come across Benjamin Britten’s former home which has been blue-plaqued. It is said that the setting for his Opera Peter Grimes was based on Aldeburgh and in my head I can hear the thin, high strings and clarinet arpeggio of the first interlude, perfectly depicting the starkness of the beach and the cold gusts of wind. Aldeburgh is a town which wears it's Britten credentials lightly unlike say, Tintagel and King Arthur, though there is a sculpture on the beach.
1145 I jump on my bike and head out towards Orford Ness to the South but the going gets tough as the road peters out to become a shingle track which is impossible to cycle on. It isn't really my direction today so I head back and keep going to Thorpness losing the jacket once more as the daylight and the exercise warms me up.
1220 Spots of rain. Is this a change in the weather? Thorpness is a sort of poor man’s Port Sunlight full of mock Tudor and Jacobean style houses and the crazy ‘house in the clouds’ which was originally a water tower but is now a rentable holiday home. This must surely be one of the weirdest houses in Great Britain like something out of Roald Dahl or a fairy story.
1237 Leave Thorpness and go off-road on sandy tracks heading vaguely North to Minsmere RSPB reserve, beyond Sizewell nuclear power station.
1412 I’m sitting in a hide in Minsmere after being given the hard sell by the RSPB membership recruitment person trying to sell me membership. He gave his whole patter while I in turn gave him all the discouraging noises that seemed polite but he did not get any of the hints. Observed a flying bittern, heron and hobbies though at a distance.
1456 There’s a lovely bird artist Steve Cole exhibiting in the visitor centre. I’m especially taken by a picture of skua and terns on Norfolk coast. After a pot of Earl Grey in the cafe I am ready to tackle more hides.
1625 Minsmere is a large reserve with multiple lakes and hides and I’ve only time to do about half of it. I hear the explosive call of a Cetti’s warbler – I’m not very good on bird calls but when you know what this is you can’t mistake it. Seems to have got muggy again and I’m quite dehydrated again by the time I get back from my wander and head off for another rendevous with British public transport.
1715 Three quarters of an hour wait at Darsham station for the Lowestoft train. Doesn’t seem right to have to wait that long.
1814 Now finally heading into Norfolk on the train: so many level crossings – I suppose it makes sense if you don’t have hills to elevate the track; a farmer is ploughing followed by a wake of hundreds of gulls excitedly grubbing about for worms in the strip of turned earth. The stations we pass through get progressively smaller. If Brampton was any tinier it would not look out of place in a model railway. Everywhere pigs, pigs and more pigs!
1833 The journey is very soporific and I find myself dozing. The threatened gales have so far not appeared.
1847 At Lowestoft which in the part I see seems to be very much an industrialised fishing town. The train to Norwich is a three coacher in green and yellow livery. It has started to rain but there is a smashing sunset on the level horizon.
1930 Having ditched the train I am now pounding along the roads trying to navigate in darkness and by now continuous rain to my b&b at Lingwood. This is the ex-stationmasters house so consequently is by the station, which still operates and there is an old fashioned level crossing with swing gates that are closed by a person who pops out of a cabin from time to time. The landlady is kind and even better there is a pub next door where I have a scrumptious pie and chips made especially for me even though the kitchen is closed. I wash it down with a pint of Suffolk cider.
2139 Settle down in bed to watch the Last Night of The Proms. Tomorrow it is South again to Essex before returning to Norwich (don’t ask – this next part of the trip has been a logistical nightmare!).
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