GPX File Here.
I set off from home just after 530am and drove up to Woodhill Park campsite to pick up Ian where he had been staying all week. After packing everything up and loading the car we drove 25 minutes up the road to Stiffkey (pronounced Stew-Key) where we finished the path last month. We parked up at Stiffkey Saltmarshes Car park which is free parking.
We take a photo at the start and set off at 0938am along the Stiffkey Saltmarshes.
The Sea Lavender is in full bloom now and the photos really don't do it justice at how wonderful it looked!
Stiffkey is first evidenced in the Domesday Book of 1086, and means 'stump island, island with stumps of trees'.
The local historical pronunciation of the village is 'Stiff-key' and not ‘Stew-key’. The mis-pronunciation is primarily due to the underlying glauconitic clays (blue-green clays – formerly Blue Marl). In Norfolk, the Cretaceous Gault Formation becomes calcareous before passing northwards into the Hunstanton Formation ("Red Chalk"). In places thin, variable junction beds at the base include some limestones. (BGS lexicon: Gault Formationwhich belongs to the Selbourne Group).
The blue clays are known locally as 'Norfolk Stew', hence the name 'Stew-Key' [Stew-quay] as the flats there and the quays use the underlying blue clays (muds) weathered from Cretaceous bedrock. As already noted the local fauna of cockles can be stained with relation to their habitat. Glauconite is an iron- and potassium-rich mineral and the solid phase reactions can produce the iron- and potassium-rich dye Prussian blue.
The correct and locally used pronunciation is ‘Stiff-key’. In the Domesday book it is spelt ‘Stiucai’, when this was written there weren’t separate letters for ‘V’ and ‘U’. All names with a ‘V’ sound were spelt with a ‘U’. It is thought that ‘Stew-key’ arose from the mis-reading of the Domesday spelling.
Forming part of the Blakeney Point, a National nature reserve, the Stiffkey Salt Marshes create an extensive habitat for a wide range of birds and plant life. The salt marshes which are owned and managed by the National Trust are open to the public.
The author Henry Williamson bought a farm in Stiffkey. The Story of a Norfolk Farm (1941) is his account of his first years of farming here. Probably better known for his 'Tarka The Otter' book.
We walk on passing Freshes Creek with a few moored boats here.
There are just a few places left in Norfolk that can be described as wild; Stiffkey Freshes is one of those. If you are an early bird and you get to the dunes as dawn breaks, or you stay till dusk approaches, you will witness some impressive nature moments At these times of day you will see a great deal of bird activity, with flocks of geese and duck going to and from their feeding grounds.
We walk on passing an area called Morston Meals.
Due to the encroaching tide there is a wet area on the approach to Morston, to avoid it we detoured detour into a field, across a small muddy area and through a narrow gap through the fence.
We now walk into Morston Quay.
Morston Quay is situated just within the shelter of Blakeney Point. The point forms a wonderful backdrop to the quay area, with it's salt marshes in the foreground. Perfect for keen bird watchers, who might just catch a glimpse of brent geese, little egrets, spoonbills, marsh harriers and more. There is the opportunity to take a trip with one of the boat operators to see the seals at Blakeney Point.
There is also a café , serving up hot and cold drinks, cakes, sandwiches, crisps and snacks here. With outdoors seating available.
We stop while Ian uses the toilet and I watch the people and boats go by, the marsh here is also awash with sea lavender.
We walk on towards Blakeney.
We follow the embankment with marshes either side flanked with wild flowers.
As we approach we can see Higher up the village, the Church of St Nicholas has two towers: the main tower is more than 100 ft (30 m) high and a well-known landmark for miles around; the smaller tower was built as a beacon to guide boats into Blakeney Harbour.
We now follow the Agar Creek into Blakeney.
I was here with the wife back in February, what a difference some nice weather makes!
Blakeney was a commercial seaport until the early 20th century. Now the harbour is silted up, and only small boats can make their way out past Blakeney Point to the sea. Adjacent to the hill, at the foot of the village's High Street, is the old Guildhall with a 14th-century undercroft.
In the Domesday Book of 1086, Blakeney is recorded under the name Esnuterle (later, Snitterley); the main landholders are noted as Walter Gifford and William de Noyers. The settlement first appears under the name Blakeney in a document which dates from 1340. Around the same period Edward III's wife, Queen Philippa is said to have dined on fish caught by Blakeney’s fishermen.
The village's name means 'Black island'.
Blakeney Haven was a deeper inlet on the north coast of Norfolk into which the River Glaven flowed. Sheltered behind Blakeney Point, it was a major shipping area in the Middle Ages, with relatively important North Norfolk ports at Wiveton, Cley next the Sea and Blakeney itself. Cley and Wiveton silted up in the 17th century, but Blakeney prospered, especially after the channel to the Haven was deepened in 1817. Packet ships ran from that port to Hull and London from 1840. This trade declined as ships became too large for the harbour, and it is now silted up with access only for small boats.
From the 12th century Blakeney had a reputation for acts of piracy: between 1328 and 1350 it is recorded that men of Blakeney boarded two vessels sailing from Flanders and sailed them back to Blakeney haven, where they were stripped of their cargoes. Many a foreign merchant ship which sought shelter in the haven found its cargo stolen. Such was the lawlessness of the residents that the village refused to supply a ship for the battle against the Spanish Armada.
We stop off for some cockles from the trailer in the car park, very nice too!
We walk on, now following the New Cut and the Fresh Marshes.
The marsh takes a long loop around and we can see the windmill at Cley Next the Sea in the distance.
After a while we eventually start the walk into Cley Next The Sea and get our first close up view of its windmill.
We drop down onto New Road and walk up the road visiting Picnic Fayre. Nice selection of beer and cider as well as other fresh produce. Loved to have bought some booze to take home but didn't relish the idea of carrying the extra weight!
The village's name is of Anglo-Saxon origin and derives from the Old English term for a settlement close to the sea with an abundance of clay.
In the Domesday Book, Cley is recorded as a settlement of 38 households located in the hundred of Holt. The village formed parts of the East Anglian estates of King William I.
We stop off to look in the Cley Smokehouse, smelt amazing in there, but couldn't see the fish faring too well after a long walk in the heat, so again no purchase.
A great looking footpath leads away from the High Street alongside some houses, but we aren't going that way.
Cley was once one of the busiest ports in England, where grain, malt, fish, spices, coal, cloth, barley and oats were exported or imported. The many Flemish gables in the town are a reminder of trade with the Low Countries. But despite its name, Cley has not been "next the sea" since the 17th century, due to land reclamation. Some of the buildings that once lined the quay remain, notably the 18th-century Cley Windmill. The windmill, a five-storey tower mill, was owned by the family of singer James Blunt for many decades and operated as a bed and breakfast. The mill was sold in 2006, but continues to operate as a bed and breakfast on a non-profit making basis. It was used as a backdrop of the 1949 film Conspirator with Elizabeth Taylor. Cley Mill has often been depicted by local artists and was the subject of a painting by the 20th-century English landscape artist, Rowland Hilder.
After the silting up of the port, Cley had to find another industry; in the late 19th century, it became a holiday resort. The poet Rupert Brooke was staying in Cley with classics professor Francis Macdonald Cornford and his wife, the poet Frances Cornford, early in August 1914 when news came that Britain had entered what was to become the First World War. Brooke had dreamt about the war and woke to find it a reality. He did not speak to his hosts all day until Frances Cornford said, "But Rupert, you won't have to fight?" to which Brooke replied, "We shall all have to fight".
We walk on a little further, a signpost marks the trail down another alleyway, we follow this and onto a nettle filled alleyway beyond, we decide this isn't much fun and return to the High Street to see more of Cley, we will re-join the path a little further up.
Further up the High Street was the George Hotel, I poked my head and and spied some nice looking beers so we popped in for a half. I had a Woodfordes Norfolk Gold and we sat in the beer garden across the road.
Continuing along the High Street we take the path to the Coast Path and the Cley Windmill.
Cley Windmill is a five storey tower mill with a stage at second floor level, twenty feet above ground. It has a dome shaped cap with a gallery which was winded by an eight-bladed fantail, ten feet six inches in diameter. The cap is now fixed and unable to turn to wind. There are four double Patent sails with a span of 70 ft, carried on stocks 56 feet (17.07 m) long. The inner pair have eight bays of three shutters and the outer pair have nine bays of two shutters and one of three shutters. In 1819 the sails powered two pairs of French burr millstones, a flour mill and jumper but by 1876 this had been increased to three pairs of stones and a smut machine had been added.
Cley Windmill was built in the early 19th century. It was not marked on William Faden's map of Norfolk published in 1797. The first mention was an advert in the Norfolk Chronicle of 26 June 1819, where the mill was for sale, described as "newly erected" and in the ownership of the Farthing family. The mill was not sold and remained the property of the Farthing family, until 1875, when Dorothy Farthing, the then owner, died. The mill was bought by the miller, Stephen Barnabas Burroughes. It was worked by the Burroughes family until c. 1912, when the business was transferred to their windmill at Holt.
We follow the path away and have a great view back to the windmill from creek.
Along the creek you can make out a building sitting alone in the marshes, this is is known as Blakeney Chapel; despite its name, it is in Cley parish, and probably never had a religious purpose. It is a Grade II listed building and scheduled monument which was likely an old iron smeltery.
We pass an odd looking metal structure, this is a Allan-Williams Turret located on the Norfolk Coast Path near the village of Cley next the Sea, Norfolk, England. These are World War II metal turrets, which could be rotated through a full 360 degrees, set above a steel and brick-lined pit. They were designed for all types of light machine gun to be fired either through the front loophole which was further protected by shutters, or through the circular opening in the roof in a light anti-aircraft role. It could also be armed with the Boys anti-tank rifle. The army did not favour the design; most were installed at airfields. Nearly 200 Allan-Williams Turrets were made and installed, salvaging of the metal after the war means that today very few remain.
After following the path along a seabank that followed a road we arrive at Cley Beach.
Here are fishing boats that are launched and retrieved from the sea by tractor.
The path is now following the beach along heavy going shingle, but we retreat down to next the sea where the ground is firmer and easier to walk along.
The beach is filled with the sound of the waves crashing in combined with the sound of crunching shingle underfoot.
The novelty of walking by the sea soon wears off as its is relentless and our pace has slowed due to the ground beneath our feet.
At one point I look back and see Ian has fallen over a large pebble an has blood bleeding from his knee and hand. This beach is taking its toll.
We pass Salthouse on our right but have no view across as we are down by the sea beneath a large bank of shingle.
We walk on and on, we was originally thinking of finishing at Sheringham, but have decided to now finish at Weybourne. We are getting tired and time is marching on.
We can make out a mast on the Muckleburgh Miltary Collection, a privately owned military museum for rides on army vehicles, plus 25 tanks, artillery and uniforms.
A welcome distraction, we see a seal in the sea ahead.
He wouldn't let us too near as kept diving under.
I could then work out where he was as I can see fish leaping out of the water as I guess the seal was hunting beneath the waves.
The seal matched our walking speed and kept appearing almost next to us.
Along the beach was numerous fisherman casting out mackerel feathers to retrieve.
We eventually reach the area of the beach where we head up the wall of shingle, hard work this was too as the bank of shingle moves beneath our feet.
We follow Beach Lane into Weybourne.
We pass All Saints Church.
The present church grew out of a 13th century Priory of Augustinian Canons, which itself took over the site and building of an earlier church. The impressive ruins of the early Norman tower remain to the north of the present chancel and much of the outline of the Priory can still be seen. The canons added a south aisle for parish use and the present north aisle stands on the foundations of the old nave. A handsome tower with nice sound holes and flushwork was added in the 15th century, as was the porch, which has good flint and brick chequerwork and had an upper chamber used as a chapel. The nave hammerbeam roof is of similar date. Inside is a Jacobean pulpit re-mounted on a plinth of 1888 and some early 16th century re-used poppyhead benches, one with a female head as an armrest, another with a bird. Ruins of the cloister and vaulted dark entry are in the neighbouring garden to the north.
Next to the church is the reamins of Weybourne Priory.
Weybourne Priory was a small Augustinian medieval monastic house in Weybourne, Norfolk, England.
It was founded around 1200 AD by Sir Ralph de Meyngaren (Mainwearing). It was at first subordinate to West Acre Priory but independent from 1314.
By 1494 only one prior and three canons lived there. At a visitation in 1514, there was only the prior and one canon. It was dissolved in 1536. Thomas Bulman, the prior, obtained a pension of £4; he was presented to the Norfolk rectory of Egmere in 1543. After its suppression, the priory was granted to John Gresham.
The standing remains of the priory are Grade I listed and the site is a Scheduled Ancient Monument.
Across the road is the bus stop next to the Ship Inn. We have 17 minutes until the bus time for another half. We have a half of Norfolk Topper from the Barsham Brewery.
The CH1 Coasthopper bus arrives, we ride this back to Stiffkey and walk back down the road to the car. A 13.1 mile walk, amazing views and places but that beach knocked the stuffing out of us.
Now for the drive home, which was also long due to accident on the M11!
