County Bagging - Camping Weekend
On possibly the hottest weekend of the year I decided it was time to "bag" a new County. I stuck my hand in my Jar Of Counties and pulled out Norfolk. I stayed at Woodhill Park Caravan and Campsite - a lovely, though large and commercialised, site. Couldn't fault the facilities or the staff.
A nice little explore of the site and a wander into the village to see what's what probably clocked up a couple of miles of nice leg stretch before having a quiche, new potatoes and salad for my tea, washed down with a glass of wine, sat in the sunshine breathing in fresh, sea air. Smashing. I could feel the stress and upheaval of the past couple of months melting away.
My home for a couple of days:
The next day I was up at silly-o-clock, partly 'cos I was busting for a widdle and partly because the day was gearing up to be The Hottest Day Of The Year and the tent was getting uncomfortably warm. There's nowt better than sitting in the early morning sunshine having a cuppa (waking everyone up with my whistling kettle) no, joking, other people were up and about already, probably feeling the heat of the day as well.
Sarnies made, flask filled, rucksack packed (including the flipflops), Viewranger set to record, .... and off I set. I crossed the A149 and headed down Thains Lane:
... a lovely, leafy, shady lane. I reached the bridge over a rail track:
... and headed towards Incleborough Hill. Lots of flappy things, most too quick to be snapped but I got this Meadow Brown butterfly sunbathing on a Bramble:
Over a stile I went and onto a little patch of Access Land that houses Incleborough Hill. There was a little bit of welcomed breeze here:
I re-entered some leafy-ness for the climb up the hill:
... a short, steep little hill that pops you out into baking hot heathland and masses of Brown Tailed Moth nests in the Gorse:
Phew! It was hot and I was soon retreating back into the shade of the trees.... BIG mistake. I carried on, assuming I was on the right path... right up until I got back to the sign for Incleborough Hill. From here, I sort of wandered around aimlessly, retracing my steps until I ended up at the golf course, which I'd not passed previously and I didn't want to be near, but at least I knew where I was now.
A quick re-jig of my plans had me heading over Town Hill towards Sandy Lane (track). I spotted a caravan site and succumbed to my first ice lolly of the day, plus another bottle of water to replace the one I'd already got through. I was only about 3 miles into the walk and sweating (sorry, glowing) profusely. These hills may not be big but there's some flipping steep bits and that, combined with about 30 degree heat DEFINITELY justifies an ice lolly a mere 3 miles into a walk in my book.
I sat a while in the shade and ate my ice lolly, then had a mini sausage roll (packup) and more water to top up the salt/sugar/fat/carb/fluid intake as I could already feel a heat headache coming on. I bought another bottle of water just to be safe. Seriously, my clothes were wringing wet through from sweat and I tasted salty(!!)
I carried on up the looooooong, sloooooooow, energy sapping Sandy Lane track to the highest point in Norfolk - Beacon Hill - a stonking 338ft above sea level:
More leafy lanes, although I'm not sure the shade was a help or hindrance seeing as there wasn't a breath of wind and the hot, sticky air just hung, trapped in the trees. A lovely trail though with lots of chances to wiggle off route to get views like these:
... looking over West Runton to the sea. Every time I found a bench I had to have a sit and a cool down to admire the views.
Along the way I spotted this subtle clue, letting me know I was on the right track... only I wasn't (again):
I sort of followed it down hill into a pine forest then just pointed my compass at the sea and picked a way down towards the track I could see people walking along farrrrr below. It worked and I popped out somewhere on Calves Well Lane opposite a field of horses (the Horse Sanctuary).
From there, I headed to Beeston Regis. I love the cobble "cladding" of the buildings:
I was out in the open now and BOY it was like walking in a blast furnace. I could feel the sunburn on my arms but couldn't stand the long sleeves of my thin and flimsy windshirt clinging to me so it was on/off/on/off/draped over my shoulders/stuffed in my pocket/tied round my waist.
Walking across the small heathland just before the climb to Beeston Bump (fab name!) was stiflingly hot and I began to wonder whether going up the bump was a good idea in this sun and heat - I think it was just after midday as well. I found a bench in the heathland and sat and had another mini sausage roll and some now sun-boiled water which tasted strangely alkaline and slippery. From past personal experience I know this strange watery taste sensation is a danger sign of dehydration and heatstroke. Even though I actually felt okay in myself (apart from hot and sticky) I decided to nibble some fruit pastilles and eat another sausage roll before going up Beeston Bump. Finding shade and cooling down wasn't an option so I sat with my windshirt over my head and draped over my shoulders. A right bonny bugga I looked, I'm sure.
So, here it is, the climb up Beeston Bump:
About 30 sandy steps and a steep bit gets you to the top. It might as well have been Everest for how hard that was in the heat!
Brew With A View:
But, OhhhhhHHHH, the views - Looking along my return journey on the beach to my campsite, with Cromer beyond:
... and looking the other way to my cream scone and cup of tea, err, sorry, looking towards Sheringham:
There are lots of benches for summit slugs on the top so I took advantage and enjoyed a fluffy coffee and biscuit and absent-mindedly realised that I hadn't needed a, ahem, comfort break since 7am and still didn't need one now despite drinking 2 litres of water. There was a slight breeze up here too, which was nice.
I headed down into Sheringham, passing lots of brightly coloured and interestingly named beach huts which looked fab - I didn't like to take pictures of them though as they were mostly occupied and there were lots of little-uns running around - it didn't seem right to take pics somehow.
I found a little sea-side café and got a pot of tea and a cream scone. Grabbed a table outside and dragged it into the shade (sitting inside was unbearably stuffy and I really felt for the poor staff working in there), changed into my flipflops and had a leisurely sit and people-watch as I munched on my scone and supped my tea. Despite not feeling remotely hungry or thirsty, I was surprised how much better I felt for doing that to be honest.
After a good rest, I set off along the prom to walk along the beach. Along a quieter part of the prom there were some unused beach huts so I took a quick snap of them:
And down onto the beach I go (arty-farty pic alert!):
A couple of miles or so of beach walking, paddling in the sea and poking around rock pools and strange flint/chalk ring formation things which I later discovered are called paramoudras, and are a fossilised burrow of an unknown creature. I personally think they're the fossilised poo of the Beast of Beeston Bump. With the stripey sandstone cliffs to my right, I paddled happily along the shore. This walk had become the lovely, varied and interesting walk I'd hoped:
All that remained was a swim in the sea. As I neared the slipway to the beach at West Runton (mentally noted the little café selling ice creams at the top) I took my rucksack off and just walked into the sea.... fully clothed. If I need to justify this then here's my reason.... I was hot, sweaty, my clothes were stuck to me from sweat anyway and there were too many people around to strip off so, I just walked in fully clothed... makes sense in my world.
God it felt good. I splished around for mebby 15 minutes before drip-drying on the beach sat on the edge of the slipway a while. .... Then saw they were taking the signs in at the little café..... NOOOOOOOOOOO. I fair sprinted up that slipway and schlopped my way to the ice cream counter... phew! They were still serving. My second ice cream of the day tasted won-der-ful and fortified me for the last half a mile along the cliff top.
I was very lucky to get a picture of a Skylark:
Back at the tent I got changed into my cozzie, had a cuppa, then wandered back down to the beach for a proper swim before my tea (the other half of the quiche, etc). I forgot just how much I enjoy swimming in the sea.
A nice shower and food and finally, I get to tick something off my "things to do before I die" list....
... Enjoy a glass of wine from the top of a hill watching the sun set (although I'm struggling to get my head around being on the East coast and watching the sun set in the West!).