It is a breezy dull day with a rather biting wind but we have decided that as is it is the last day of our holidays, that we shall “do” a Broads walk. Over the last couple of weeks we have walked around the Burnhams of North Norfolk seeing Brent Geese guzzling on the meadow grass and Pink Footed Geese on the higher fields, we have seen the spot where the rectory stood in which Nelson was born, travelled to picturesque Baconsthorpe Castle near Holt and watched wild Bewick swans on the Beccles and St Benets marshes.
Today though we must first make a flying return visit to Twyfords in Beccles to purchase our picnic lunch before returning toward Thurton where we turn off toward the marshes and Broad at Rockland St Mary.
The Broads Authority have provided a nice little car park at the staithe and some very interesting information boards that we will look at upon our return after walking for about eight and a half miles, our route taking in some of the Wherryman’s Way. Of course you could easily moor your boat here by the The New Inn pub and enjoy a meal having worked up an appetite on the suggested walk
Well, we had best get loaded up and away through the village passing as we do so, a new development with the catchy road name “Eel Catcher Close”.
Further on we pause to look at a couple of nice cottages and a garden decorated with a shell covered windmill, a castle, and various other items, wow, that’s an awful lot of cockles to eat to get that amount of shells.
A gate on our left leads up a narrow alley and onto what we suspect are large grazing meadows known as Low Common, we remark that you never know what to expect once away from the road and this area is certainly very pleasant if a bit boggy at present, though easily passable.
The path leads across a scrubby drainage dyke, through a particularly wet field and over a nice little wooden bridge, climbing up out of the mire on a very slippery path. We have now gained a little height and proceed along the ridge toward Claxton church with fine views of the low lying marshes.
We had seen shooting brakes transporting guns, handlers and dogs near Ashby as we drove in, and now many of the fields are marked by rows of white painted posts littered around their bases with brightly coloured cartridge cases, luckily we seemed to have timed it correctly as all is quiet at present as the guns probably are enjoying lunch, however the pheasants are quite correctly much alarmed and loudly calling.
From our high vantage point we look down a track straight toward Claxton Manor with its bit of ruined castle tacked on the side. At Sara’s suggestion we descend to get a closer look, passing a field on the way containing a herd of young fluffy Hereford bullocks who appear astounded to see Tillie and Raven on the other side of the fence and who would no doubt have liked to have invited them in to join them.
Alas the views of both the manor and castle are somewhat screened by various trees and buildings now that we are nearer, however the castle was likely to have been built around the mid 1300’s by the Keridston family and largely pulled down in the 17th century to provide building materials for the hall or manor house. OOPS, our route now takes us across the bullock field, “Taint so likely” as we say around here, so we nip along the road to climb back up onto the ridge by a parallel track.
Once up here again we follow our original route arriving eventually for lunch at Carleton St Peter church. This church is set back from the road behind a couple of small fields, accessed by a dividing grass track and here we sit to eat lunch and divide a crispy crunchy cake as it would take a good man to eat a whole one in a sitting.
From here we pass the rather mucky black and white cows at Hall Farm where we veer away from the road past Lower Farm, just as it were to have a look, before crossing some fields on a very narrow path indeed, all the time taking us down toward Claxton.
At Mill Lane we head out toward the marsh first passing by quite a picturesque group of buildings that once surrounded the wooden sided smock corn mill that stood here. It was shown on maps from the early 1800’s and apparently worked by wind alone until the mid 1930’s and then by oil engine for a few short years until it was dismantled in 1945 after a bit of it collapsed. Neatly laid out cattle pastures line the track before it descends into a dell and out onto the dead flat marshes toward the Beauchamp Arms, seen on the distant river bank. A herd of pure white swans attract our attention, especially as one or two seem constantly airborne but they turn out to be Mute Swans.
Out along the path by quite a wide and free flowing drainage dyke, we can see very little apart from hundreds or maybe even thousands of Jackdaws which seem particularly upset by the resumed banging from up on the ridge and noisily swirl about the manor house trees and flights of Peewits on the Buckenham marshes on the far side of the river.
Lights burn in the public house windows as we turn along the river bank. What are those ducks all bunched up ahead on the main river, the whistling tells us Wigeon and the telescope confirms that this is so with two superb Shoveler drakes milling about the crowd. As we draw near, of course they take wing vertically, hanging momentarily head to wind in front of us before zooming away toward a scrape on the Stumpshaw marshes already occupied by Peewits.
At a flooded pasture just where the Fleet dyke heads up to Rockland, hundreds of Wigeon are all a guzzle on the short grass, and quite close to us too, behind them are nervous geese, Beans I had hoped, but no, ordinary Greys I am afraid. Its a bit chilly now and getting dusk, though early, so as a Barn Owl quarters the nearby marshes we walk along the muddy path until at the Broad we meet the easy access gravelled path that will return us to the car park.
Though there is a hide, no birds except for gulls and an odd coot can be seen as we look across toward the Slaughters. This I think was named by the late famous naturalist Ted Ellis from nearby Wheatfen broad and consists of a row of wherry hulks sunk in the early 1930’s by J Hobrough to form a breakwater. There are some famous vessels sunk here although it is about thirty years since I stood upon the LEVERET’s flush aft deck from where Uncle Billy Royall steered her as he delivered forty tons of coal at a time to Norwich gas works from Yarmouth for her owners William England with Great Grandfather Chris as mate. Another big wherry here is MYTH along with Colman’s HOPE and the smaller TIGER. Look, that little old wherry is DILIGENT skippered by Jack Gedge’s Father and there, nearly alongside is their old GLEANER (often confused with their new GLEANER ex ORION) all brought by him to life as we sat by his fireside at Swayfield where he lived with his daughter, and himself over a hundred years old, when I used to visit him probably about 30 years ago.
Well, as we look out across the reed fringed broad in the gathering gloom, does the ghost of the old Breydon pirate, Scientific Fuller glide out from amongst the reeds in his slate coloured gun punt and taking aim with his old twelve bore have a go at an unwary ghostly duck flaring in to land upon the broad to feed. For many a long year Rockland was his kingdom and he watched over it like a hawk or as I have seen him described, a spider, scuttling out to catch any quarry in the line of fir, feather or fin. I am not sure off hand when the old chap ceased operations but he could well have still been about when the wherries were scuttled.
Returning to the car park we read the caption boards, load the tired dogs into the car and share out our last crispy cake.
Back to work tomorrow.
