Date : August 4th 2015
Time : 9.44 a.m. (Planned 9.30 departure slightly delayed by cappuccino ordering at The Lighthouse Diner and debate over how Whitts could procure an Americano. Two Espressos poured into one mug solved that one).
Starting point : The Lighthouse Diner, Lowestoft.
Guest walker of the day : Mrs Helen Taylor
Very chirpy outlook as less windy and much warmer than forecast. Headed out to the beach past strange wooden constructions, various suggestions as to their purpose ranged from large hurdles (?) to fish drying poles. Information board explained that they had been part of the rope making industry hereabouts. Now you know. First information board had “I’m going to smash your face Bruce, stay away from Stella” written across it. So Bruce now you know too. (Names have been changed to protect their identities).
Lovely, sunny morning. Whitts pointed out that we would probably see a lot of seals en route today. Within minutes we had seen one. On closer inspection it turned out to be a football. We didn’t see any seals for the rest of the day. Or footballs.
The inevitable detour due to coastal erosion came upon us at Corton. Whitts struck out with happy disregard for various “No trespassing” signs but intervened when Helen suggested scaling the semi-eroded cliff face. “Laws are made to be broken” announced Whitts “but I am risk averse”. This took everyone by surprise.
Stopped for small refreshment break close to Hopton where Whitts and Mrs Taylor threw caution to the wind and decided to have a dip. First injury sustained by Whitts when she jarred her back descending the breakwater at speed in her haste to go swimming. This is just one of the reasons why I don’t go swimming off the British coast.
Great Yarmouth was our lunch stop. Headed up along the River Yare to sit on a concrete lump for our picnic and watch a very large orange ship arrive at some speed. Helen had forgotten her fork and Whitts had no packed lunch at all (risk averse ? ) so received food donations until tuna mayonnaise sandwiches could be purchased on the front. Walking through Yarmouth we noted that there were very few people striding with purpose and even less women of a certain age carrying back packs. We were attracting quizzical looks. Not simply due to our extraordinary glamour. Stumbling upon the very beautiful Fishermen’s Hospital was a bit of a find though.
After lunch it was a relatively leisurely three mile stroll along the sandy marshes up to Caister on Sea. Holiday caravan parks were thick on the ground here. Saw a very beautiful but now derelict boating lake and coffee house from the 1920s/1930s. Could wax lyrical here but won’t bore you. Sedate last stretch as blister making its presence felt for me and Mrs Taylor was hobbling a tad with her dodgy knee. Tranquility only broken by some insensitive soul phoning Mrs Taylor on her mobile. Realised that it was in fact me phoning her by accident from my pocket.
Arrived at the Old Hall Hotel, Caister at 4.45 pm with 13.6 miles under our belts. Swimming pool, jacuzzi and steam room was a bit of a bonus as was the round of gin and tonics in the bar afterwards. I managed to throw an entire gin and tonic all over myself and it was probably very timely that Mr Taylor appeared to collect Mrs Taylor as I fear we were a little over tired and our motor skills were beginning to go. Surprisingly good night’s sleep on variety of not so bouncy beds……