Walberswick to Dunwich Heath 7th January 2020
For our second day of walking the Suffolk coast we will look to cover the section between the River Blyth in the north and Dunwich Heath in the south. Route planning is an essential part of any long distance trek spread over several days. Yesterday we had to cope with the logistics associated with using public transport, whereas today we will look to do a circular (well actually a figure-of-eight) walk. This is because there is no suitable bus service in this part of the world.
We commence our walk from Dunwich village car park, down by the beach. Our walk will take us north along the beach as far as the River Blyth, whereupon we will return south following the official Suffolk Coast Path, which follows what was probably the shore line several hundred years ago.
Once we are back at Dunwich, we will follow the coast south as far as Dunwich Heath, before returning via the Suffolk Coast Path back to our start point.
We arrive at Dunwich car park by 9.30am, where two interpretive boards advise us regarding the history of this intriguing place. One thousand years ago the coast was about a mile further east of here. An average erosion rate of about 1.5 metres per year has seen the medieval town of Dunwich, gradually destroyed by the relentless action of the sea. This included at least two major storms in 1246 and 1387, totally blocking the port, which was at one time the 4th largest in England.
The Dingle Marshes in front of us are of national importance, being a National Nature Reserve. With the threat from coastal erosion, some difficult choices will need to be made about whether to protect the marshes, or to look to mitigate their loss by creating similar habitat elsewhere. This comes at a time when the government is looking to reduce its spending on coastal protection, thus throwing up a conflict between the interests of the nature reserve and local residents/landowners, who are also pressing for coastal protection for their property.
Dingle Marshes – reed beds and open water separated from the sea by a shingle bank
As we commence our walk, the cool wind from the south is at our backs and the sky is overcast. Areas of blue sky suggest that we may get some January sunshine during the day. We start off by inspecting the beach and saying good morning to the waves, which lap foam against the shingle beach. The pebbles here are about 1-2 cm in diameter and offer difficult walking underfoot. We therefore quickly return to the landward side of the beach, where the walking appears to be a little easier.
The firm sand of yesterday’s walk, perhaps spoiled us a little, but we are philosophical about it. One of the joys of walking is that it makes one fully aware of the environment – including how difficult some sediments can be to walk on.
Walking here on the Suffolk Coast you are never far from birders and dog walkers. As though we are bargain hunters, we get ‘two for the price of one’ as we pass a couple walking with their two dogs, who also have their binoculars trained on a pair of Stonechats (the walkers that is – not the dogs!).
The area behind the storm beach here is dominated by low growing plants capable of surviving the lethal combination of virtually no soil and the windy, salt-laden air. The most obvious one is Buckshorn Plantain, which forms an attractive basal rosette of leaves, bearing a superficial resemblance to the antlers of deer.
Looking south towards Dunwich car park from the shingle bank
Inland of us is an area of open, standing water. A ubiquitous, solitory Mute Swan has taken up residence here, whilst in the reed beds and shallows a Little Egret hunts for small fish, amphibians and invertebrates.
We are in luck, as a sort of access path, well-trodden by walkers, provides an easier surface to walk on. It is not long however, before this gives way to yet more of the kind of shingle people buy for their drives. It may be good for drives but is crap for walking on!
The marshes are a legacy of the storms of several centuries earlier, which blocked Dunwich harbour. At that time the Dunwich River would have flowed directly into the sea, however since then it has just drained into this marsh area, before slowly percolating into the sea through the pebble bank.
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Fine, loose ‘pea-shingle’ and a steep beach conspire to make walking problematic – but firm sand between the sea and the shingle bank
We are glad that the wind is behind us as we walk to Walberswick. It is easy to see why the official Suffolk Coast Path runs inland of here, with the shingle walk soon overheating us in our thermals.
Switching back to walking next to the sea, we find that the newly exposed sand provides much firmer walking. The down-side is that we risk getting wet, with each wave threatening to wash over our boots. We make good progress, even though the left foot is higher than the right, causing us to walk lopsided.
In the distance a cyclist comes towards us along the strand-line, wobbling his way on the narrow band of firm sand between the sea and the shingle. We have cycled along beaches like this in the past, it can be a real challenge to stay upright in these situations, with the sand too soft when it is powder-dry away from the sea, but too sloppy closer to the sea.
Before he passes us, he turns off and disappears through the marsh – along one of the many footpaths that crisscross it. As we walk we are able to see his earlier progress, by his tyre tracks weaving along the strand line.
Despite the fresh wind, we spot three cormorants passing low over the sea. A further lone cormorant sits on the rolling sea, contemplating a spot of fishing. Ahead of us a flock of small pale waders with brown legs sift through the strand line looking for food. When we get too close for their comfort, they fly off as one.
Betty is breaking in a new pair of boots and regularly needs to take them off to adjust the fit. Nonetheless we reach Walberswick by 10:40am, having walked about 3 miles in in an hour and 10 minutes on a surface that has not been the easiest to walk on. I have a sense of achievement.
At Walberswick the top of the beach has a small dune system covered with the ubiquitous Marram Grass. The beach sediment in front of it has all the hallmarks of having been placed there artificially (with bulldozers) – the material ranging in size from 5cms diameter downwards, is unsorted by wave action. Generally beach sediment has some degree of sorting, with wave action collecting similarly-sized particles and depositing them together in drifts.
Sand dunes at Walberswick, with its artificially nourished upper beach
(note the unsorted material, except at the front edge)
We thrash around looking for the Suffolk Coast Path, which is not easy to find here. Probably our own fault for being maverick walkers and choosing our own route. Behind the Marram Grass covered dunes we find a kind of dune slack. Instead of the usual wetland area, as we saw at Kessingland yesterday, the dune slack here consists of close-cropped grasses and plantains and looks like the turf on Centre Court. This is probably a combination of rabbit grazing and trampling by holiday-makers and is similar to that we encountered near Burling Gap on the South Downs in East Sussex.
Guessing the route of the Suffolk Coast Path, based upon staring long and hard at the OS map, we follow the crest of the dunes south until we come across some painted beach huts. Unlike their gaily painted cousins across the Blyth, in Southwold, these ones are painted jet black and have a sinister, almost gothic atmosphere. I take a peek through an uncurtained window and am surprised to discover that they look quite snug inside, with made-up beds and furniture.
An austere looking collection of beach huts at Walberswick
The ‘gothic’ beach huts behind us, we head towards the marsh by a footbridge over the Dunwich River, where we spot a further Little Egret and a Redshank. For some unaccountable reason my back has started aching, so I stop and stretch for a while. In the distance is the sound of gunfire and I assume there must be a military shooting range nearby. Failing that hostilities have broken out and I didn’t get the memo. I recall a holiday taken in 1978, which lasted several weeks and took us up through Scandinavia in a small Toyota. On our return we discovered that no-less than two Popes had died in our absence and we were blissfully unaware of either. Sometimes it’s good to avoid the news.
The footpaths through the marshes provide easy walking underfoot, with only a liberal sprinkling of mud. We regularly see the tracks of bicycle tyres and I wonder if any of these belong to our beach cyclist. The water levels within the marshes appear to be well controlled, enabling Natural England to maintain a variety of habitats for wildlife. Their leaflet http://publications.naturalengland.org.uk/publication/35020 advises us that the land around Westwood Marshes was drained for use as grazing pasture between the 16th and 18th centuries. Of late the sea has over-topped the shingle ridge, which besides increasing the salinity of the marsh waters, is a foretaste of the potential incursion of the whole of the nature reserve by the sea.
Some of the most notable species to occur here are Bittern, Otter, Water Vole and Bearded Tit. None of the aforementioned deigned to make an appearance during our traversing of the marshes, although we did spot a very professional looking birder. Like many of that ilk, he didn’t look too approachable as he surveyed the marsh with his binoculars and his stern face. I decided not to trouble him with a greeting, preferring to limit my conversations to those who give you a bit of face.
A derelict wind-pump in a sea of Common Reed
Skirting Dingle Great Hill we then climb through woodland and spot the impressively large hoof-prints of a horse. Horseshoes have long been considered lucky and to ward-off evil spirits. It is said St Dunstan tricked The Devil and put a horse-shoe on him, only agreeing to remove it if he promised never to enter a house bearing a horse-shoe on the door. I suspect the shoe on our horse would pull the door right off its hinges.
My sized 12’s are dwarfed by this mighty horse’s hoof-print
The final couple of miles back to Dunwich is a bit of a slog down a rough track, not least because of inexplicable lumbar pain, before reaching the road past Dunwich Church, Dunwich Museum and The Ship Inn.
I have taken school children into Dunwich Museum, where one of its many volunteers gave us an illuminating talk about the demise of Dunwich during the Middle-Ages. I recall a large model of the village in particular and recommend not only visiting, but making a donation towards its upkeep.
Lunch in the car recharges our cells and re-energises our minds. It is a disappointment that the café is not open, but then it would not make much profit from the scant number of visitors at this time of year. We could not find anywhere to recharge our water-bottles, which would be a good way of encouraging thirsty travelers to contribute towards the donations towards the car park upkeep that are requested.
The tide, fortuitously still on its way out, has left us with relatively easy walking along the firm sand that has been left uncovered. We have to carefully negotiate our passage beneath the tight lines of beach fishermen who brave the cold wind, now blowing in our faces as we head south.
The tight lines of beach fishermen threaten to garrote the unwitting walker
To our right the once rapidly crumbling cliffs now look quite stabilized by vegetation. The Environment Agency appear to be on top of the job here. I recall that during the early Middle-Ages locals used to line the base of the cliffs with faggots (bundles of sticks), which protected them from the relentless power of eroding waves. Apparently once the port fell into decline, not enough locals were left to keep up the good work and the sea made short work of the town for the next 700 or 800 years. I recall some years earlier, there being large fabric bags containing pebbles, placed on the beach at the base of the cliff. Today a chestnut paling fence appears to have achieved a similar outcome, inspired by the faggots of old.
All the way along this part of the shoreline, the cliffs generally look well stabilized and are covered in recent growth of scrub. We do encounter a lump of reinforced concrete, possibly of World War 2 origins, this time situated a good 200 feet from the cliffs. The cliff material is so soft that Sand Martin holes have been easily dug out. Gorse, bracken and Holm oak populate the cliffs, the latter an evergreen and probably planted as saplings because of their resistance to salt air.
Stabilised cliffs suggest the landward progress of the North Sea has been halted for a short while
At the southward limit of the cliffs, they give way to the wetland nature reserve of Minsmere, belonging to the RSPB. We will visit this bit of coast tomorrow. At the base of Minsmere Cliffs the National Trust have roped-off a section of beach to prevent trampling of Sea Kale and Sea Pea plants by visitors. The quality of the information sign provided, suggests that they don’t anticipate much success. The sea and human feet unfortunately have little respect for wildlife.
For now we are content to climb the path that leads up to the Coastguard Cottages on top of Minsmere Cliffs where we are met by a familiar ‘UFO’. It is the surveying tripod from Pakefield. It gives no indication of having recognised us though. Next to it, Common Heather encrusts the acidic soils, made doubly inhospitable by the salt-laden air.
Sea Kale and Sea Pea area cordoned-off to discourage trampling at Minsmere Cliffs
Surveyors tripod and Common Heather colonise Minsmere Cliffs
From the top of Minsmere Cliffs we can see lots of ant-like figures moving about on the many trackways that crisscross the RSPB nature reserve. It is also a busy place for conservation work, with a boat-mounted digger operating at the northern end, involved in the cutting and piling-up of last year’s reed stems. This is an important piece of management of the wetland, which would quickly dry-out if the old reed stems were allowed to accumulate over the years, elevating the ground level above the water level of the lakes and marshes.
Once again we are thwarted in our quest for a New-year’s cup of tea, with the Coastguard Cottage Tea Rooms being closed. Ever the optimists, we try the National Trust toilets and are delighted to find that at least they are open.
Minsmere from Coastguard Cottages, Dunwich Heath
Eschewing the Suffolk Coast Path yet again, we take the road north and then a footpath across Dunwich Heath. Thirty Years ago I led a fungal foray here for the National Trust. It has changed little in that time. I am in the process of developing a small heathland area at Wilderness Wood, in East Sussex, where I volunteer my services. There is no Cross-leaved Heath on our site, so in the interests of this species I collect some seed to broadcast across our site.
It is with great joy that we come across Cliff House Holiday Park, where we discover that they are indeed open to serve the needs of the thirsty traveler. A pint of cider and a packet of crisps each restores our humanity.
The final mile or two of our walk returns us to Dunwich by way of a walk through woodland and the grounds of Greyfriars Monastery.
Dunwich Heath – in the summer it is awash with the purple flowers of heathers
The remains of the Greyfriars Franciscan Friary, Dunwich.