We left Cley on Friday morning with the sun already burning through the clouds overhead and a spring in our step, despite the guide book warning of a tough slog for the first four miles along the shingle ridge to Weybourne. I suppose one of the reasons was that achieving our goal was a tantalisingly short 13.5 miles away but also, in part, because by stepping out early we thought we could tackle nature head on and foil the rising tide. The plan was only partly successful. Our idea was that the earlier we set off, the more damp (and therefore flat) sand would still be accessible before we would be driven ever higher up onto the shingle ridge. And indeed it worked for perhaps a mile during which the magic of the crashing waves and the rising warmth of the morning drove away any negative thoughts associated with the tough conditions underfoot which we were forced to take on as the tide slowly advanced. Crunching along the ridge was, as it turned out, completely exhilarating, and indeed difficult to put into words. Few people see walking that stretch of the Coast Path as very appealing (for perhaps obvious reasons) so once again we had the world to ourselves. With green fields and the emergence of more rolling countryside to our right, wild, white waves to our left and the biggest blue sky ahead, as far as we were concerned every step was worth the leg work-out!
Approaching Weybourne Hope and its convenient car park, human activity increased. This, it seemed, was a prime place for sea-anglers, casting from the beach. We stopped to rest for a few minutes to chat to an 'angling widow' who informed us that her husband was hopeful of a small haul of mackerel and, with luck, a sea bass which apparently enjoy the rollers. Life is such an education!
From Weybourne the shingle gave way to cliffs, including a climb to the highest point on our combined trail at Skelding Hill, overlooking Sheringham. At times the cliff path is so eroded that it was possible to see where following in former footsteps would today lead to disaster!
Photographs looking ahead (that's HRH on the cliff top), back along the eroded pathway, and up to the high point at Skelding Hill.
Green fields, golden sands (at the bottom of those cliffs) and a huge sky, from the top of Skelding Hill.
Sheringham was the largest town we had encountered on our journey, not that we stayed long. With now fewer than a handful of miles remaining we rested on the esplanade to enjoy a picnic (in my case a fresh local crayfish roll), and for me to kick off my boots. We sat, reflecting on the past week reviewing the highs and lows, the best bits, favoured accommodation and how lucky we had been with the weather, before the final push on to Cromer. The path diverts inland here, unable to track the cliff edge and instead led us through rising woodland, past a former Roman camp and up Long Hill before a first glimpse of Cromer was in sight. Our feeling of joy on a week well spent, a target met and the sense of achievement having walked 99 miles was topped off by being met at the end point by our friends, Ian and Ann.
Not a great photo but there's Cromer Pier in the background! We took a few more the following morning which we think are better but in which we're looking far too clean and tidy to pretend they were at the end.
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