Heading south on it would have taken us to the ferry port and France. Worth a though though………
The plan was to head to the north-Norfolk coast, drive along it for a while, have lunch, photograph a Deltic on the NNR and head to Coltishall where we were booked into a B&B and maybe find somewhere to have dinner. Phew.
With the B&B booked, the NNR timetable printed out, we headed into Essex through the Dartford Tunnel, and found on the other side the road-widening work had actually finished and we cruised along to the M11 and headed into Essex. Traffic was light and me made good time, and within two hours we pulled off the motorway and up the A11. But as soon as we were on it, we turned off, as we had plans. Or rather, I had plans, photographs and breakfast.
Saffron Walden is a town nestling in a shallow valley beside the M11, and is filled with wonderful buildings, a fine church and seemed like an idea to stop off. It is a place I have wanted to visit, if for nothing else I loved the name. It was a the centre of the saffron industry, where millions of crocuses were grown for the spice. It was a five mile drive off the main road to the town, and after driving through the town to see what there was to see, we found a car park and got our cameras out ready for some serious speed photography and to hunt down somewhere for breakfast.
Dominating the town is the spire of the church, and it was here that we would eventually head to; but I had spotted a very fine pub on the edge of the town, The Eight Bells, and wanted to snap that first, and get a shot looking down Bridge Street hopefully without any traffic. Bridge Street is lined with fine timber-framed buldings, painted in a variety of pastel shades and is picture-perfect.
I got the shots I wanted and so we made our way to the church, to find it was built on an almost cathedral scale. And it was open. We were greeted by a churchwarden, who showed us the highlights of the church and gave us a leaflet full of information. She was waiting for the male members of the church have breakfast; seems very odd that this was just a male-only event, but we did hear the sound of merriment and eating from the hall next to the church.
We snapped the church from all angles inside, before heading out to get some exterior shots and then heading back into the town to look for somewhere to have second breakfast! We found that Bridge Street whilst being the main route through the town was not the town centre, and at the market-place we found a few places to eat and so went inside the first one we found that had a washroom and ordered a Panini and a coffee.
Back outside to snap the town square where a market was being set up, which got in the way of my shots! How inconvenient!
With the town filling up with shoppers we decided to head back to the car and head north into enemy territory, Suffolk. We did not stop in Suffolk, and soon were speeding into Norfolk and onto Norwich. I decided to drive past the football ground and along the river and then up onto Mousehold Health to be the quickest and less busy way of getting to the north of the city. We took the Wroxham road north, which was quiet, unlike Wroxham itself which was heaving already at before ten in the morning. Coachloads of pensioners were being deposited beside the river so they could do an hour tour along the river to the broad.
We headed on and turned off to head to Coltishall; not to the B&B but to my old base, and from where I was demobbed nearly seven years ago. It is now a prison, and access onto the airfield is impossible, and once through the old married quarters and the NAAFI to the main gate, I found it fenced off and the Jaguar gate guardian long gone. I siged and got back in the car and we drove north towards Sheringham and the coast.
It was a glorious day, with not a cloud in the sky, we drove along with the windows open, or hair blowing in the wind. We got to Sheringham to find a market was being held on part of the car park beside the railway; it looked crowded so we drove on. I knew a place where the railway passed over the road, and hoped that there would somewhere to park. We were in luck; there was a space, and after looking at the timetable I realised the Deltic was due in less than ten minutes. We got out our cameras and get up our shots and waited.
A shout went up from those on the embankment and we could hear the throb of the Napier engine. And there is was, snap, snap, snap. And it curved away eastwards heading out of sight into a cutting. We waited another 5 minutes for a steam locomotive to come the other way, the light and wind direction was perfect and I got some fine shots. And with that we climbed back in the car and headed further along the coast in the search for somewhere for lunch.
Weybourne was very crowded, and the one pub seemed to have every table outside full and nowhere to park. We drove on until we came to Cley-next-the-Sea. The road narrowed as it weaved through the village, and on a sharp bed I saw a beer garden on the other side of the road. On our side of the road was the pub with a sign saying there was car-parking at the back. We turned in, got the last space; Jools went to the beer garden to get a table whilst I got the drinks and a menu. I had a fine cheese and ham ploughmans whilst Jools had wild mushroom stroganoff, both were excellent, and even more so sitting outside.
So, we headed further west and came to Blakeney; the church looked impressive so we parked at the end of the village and walked back to the church. Once again it was open so after snapping the outside we went inside. After more snapping we went back outside into the sunshine to hear some loud engine noise coming from the main road. A parade of vintage trucks and lorries were cruising past; I would like to have driven anything bigger than our Polo along these twisty roads, let alone a vintage HGV without power steering. Still, it was interesting to see.
Back in the car, it was now the hottest part of the day, and we headed along to Stiffkey; only it’s not pronounced ‘Stiffkey’ it’s ‘Stewky’ of course. There was an interesting church to look at; so we parked up and went to have a look. Built into the churchyard wall was a massive tower, and in the land beyond at least three more. Seems like it was the remains of an Elizabethan manor house, which the current owners are trying to renovate.
It was now getting on for four, and I wanted to try to call in at Sheringham, so we turned east and headed for the station. The market was packing up, and I did manage to squeeze the car into a space, and there waiting in the station, growling loudly, was the Deltic. Clearly nothing else mattered so I grabbed my cameras and went to the station, leaving Jools in my wake. I snapped it and a 47 that had just arrived from about every angle including sticking the camera in the cab window and engine compartment vents! Hey, I got the shots!
Jools got an ice cream and I had a cuppa, before we turned to leave and find our B&B. It was a short drive down to Coltishall, and being called Bridge House was right beside the bridge; we checked in and were advised if we wanted to eat in the recruiting Sergeant we had better try to get a table now as it was more popular than ever. We walked over the bridge and ordered a pint, but every table was full so we had to plan something else.
We decided to head to the other end of the village to The Rising Sun, which we were told was good and might have a table, and as they do not accept bookings we were going to have to leave it to luck.
At seven we walked down to the pub, stopping at the parish church and finding it open, snap that too, and once at the pub we find a picnic table empty on the banks of the river; we grab it and order our food and have an hours wait as they were very, very busy. On the other side of the river we watched a barn owl hunting, and just saw it drop like a stone as it grabbed some unsuspecting prey. So, as the sun went down our food was served, and all in all it was a very pleasant evening indeed. We walked back through the dark streets back to our room, put on the kettle and sat on the sofa with the door open, listening to the sound of the night drifting in.
Sunday morning we were up well before breakfast, we had fruit and some toast before packing the car and then girding our loins for the task ahead; visiting Mother. I will skip over the details of the visit, other than saying things don’t change, and mores the pity, but it is how things are going to be. And I have learnt to accept that. At midday we went to the Blue Boar in Oulton for lunch. It does seem that the weekend was one long meal, and it did feel like that I have to say. Anyway, I had fish and chips which was nice and fresh, whilst Mother had roast beef. It was very nice, but thoughts were already turning to the thought of us heading back home. And after dropping Mum off back home, that’s just what we did.
We headed down the A12 to Ipswich, with me checking the BBC website all the time, but there appeared to be no traffic problems on the M25. And that is how it turned out to be. Without barely slowing down we crossed over the A13 and onto the Bridge, no queues at all, and right down to the tolls, paid our money and we were at least in the right county. And an hour later we were back in Dover, heading back up Jubilee way, along the Deal Road to home. And waiting for us were three indifferent cats, but they wanted feeding anyway. And just like that, that was the weekend. Or so it seemed.
Monday night, Jools, Gary and myself headed back out to the Elham Valley to see if the orchids were any better; it seems a bind to spend over half the evening in the car, but once at the meadow it was plainly worth it, as dozens of spears showed through the grass and buttercups just begging to be snapped. I guess we spent an hour there, and in the neat field there was even more; and those got snapped too. Monday was the last of the glorious weather, for now, and it was wonderful driving back home in the fine evening sunshine, along the cliffs with clear views to the cliffs between Calais and Boulogne some 25 miles away.
Then it was time to check the photos and begin uploading them to Flickr…….
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