Leiston to Aldeburgh – 9th January 2020
It is a mild, but windy day. The sky is cloudy, although a few blue patches suggest we may see some sun later.
Today we will attempt to use public transport to Leiston, from whence we will walk back to Aldeburgh via the Suffolk Coast Path. Well that was the plan, the reality however is that we miss the bus, so decide to drive to Leiston and catch the bus at the end of the day. In fact this is a much better arrangement since after 9.30am I’ll be able to use my free bus pass at long last!
From Leiston we have a 2 mile walk along Valley Road, followed by a re-run of yesterday’s finishing section along Sandy Lane to Sizewell Beach. We arrive at Sizewell Beach by 10:10am, a repetition of yesterday, but this time we head south walking upon a carpet of short green turf. I wonder if Wimbledon ever considered employing rabbits to cut their grass – quite cheap labour but their droppings can be a bit slippery!
Betty admires the close-cropped turf at Sizewell Beach
The Suffolk Coast Path takes us past a smattering of holiday homes before we are out into the wilds of Suffolk with excellent views of the sea below, where we have the joy of spotting the bobbing head of a seal who regards us diffidently and a less joyful view of a drifting wooden pallet.
Even the grey waters of the North Sea can benefit from a bit of well angled sunlight
A half mile of cliff-top walking brings us to a large house – Sizewell Hall. This grand building was originally owned by Scottish engineer Alexander Ogilvie and had grounds which stretched from Dunwich down to Aldeburgh. It is now a Christian conference center.
The coast path takes us between the house and the sea, but the owners in years-gone-by must have wanted an uninterrupted sea-view from their garden, without the common people spoiling it.
The footpath is suddenly enclosed by high pebble-rendered walls as we are forced to pass beneath the garden terrace where the upper classes probably enjoyed their gin and tonics in the sunshine, as they gazed out to sea.
The high walls continue on the landward side of the path, guaranteeing privacy for the residents, past and present. At the far end is a folly, topped with a domed roof.
The coast path is forced underground at Sizewell Hall and past a folly in its grounds
No sooner are we past Sizewell Hall then we pass the grounds of another large dwelling – Dower House, which was at one time part of the Ogilvie Estate. We pass a further large property, Ness House, which was also part of the Ogilvie Estate, but is now run by the Warden’s Trust providing holiday accommodation for disabled children and adults.
The Suffolk Coast Path continues to follow the top of the cliffs. They are cliffs in name only, being relatively gentle in profile and covered in vegetation such as Evergreen Oak and the yellow flowered Gorse. The cliffs here, unlike those at Pakefield and Dunwich are well protected by the shingle beach below, which is 150 feet wide here.
The vegetation-covered shingle at Thorpe Ness protects the cliffs from erosion by the sea
As the sun breaks through the cloud we drop down to beach level, where the shingle is colonized by Marram Grass, Yellow-horned Poppy, thick moss and Bucks-horn Plantain. At the bit of coast named on the map as Thorpe Ness (as opposed to the village by the same name) we walk down the beach to the surf and spend time videoing the waves as they wash up the beach towards us. One could probably sit all day just watching the hypnotic action of the sea as the fore-wash chases up the beach and the backwash slides gently back down again. Close to the sea the shingle gives way to larger pebbles measuring 4 to 5 cm in diameter.
Breaking surf meets the retreating backwash of the previous wave
At the top of the beach sediment is smaller, being pea-grit sized. Three or four ridges, corresponding to successively lower high-tide marks, run along the beach. The top of the beach has been nourished artificially and levelled by bulldozers.
We find several slabs of Norfolk Crag and carry these to the top of the low cliffs, depositing them under a bush, with the intention of returning later with the car to collect them. Most people buy mantelpiece souvenirs from local shops, we prefer ours bigger, natural in origin and free of charge.
We are instructed to climb the cliff by an official sign, warning us of cliff-falls further along. However, once we arrive at the beach beyond the forbidden zone I can’t resist doubling back to see what I have missed. I am intrigued to see how close to the houses the sea advances with each tide, with a mish-mash of rather amateur-looking sea defence measures suggesting the owners of the houses have paid for these out of their own pockets. The cliffs to the north of the beach-side houses are being actively eroded by the sea, although the sign forbidding our access along the beach is a classic over-reaction by the authorities.
Beach pebbles sorted into size classes by the sea and arranged in beach ridges
Beach nourishment – the top-most ridge is man-made, with shingle brought in by the lorry-load
and levelled flat by bulldozer action
South of Thorpe Ness the sea once again attacks the cliffs. Shingle-filled bags have little effect
The northern-most houses of Thorpeness village are in imminent danger, despite rudimentary protection
A little further along the beach and we are into Thorpeness village, created in the early 20th Century by Glencairn Stuart Ogilvie. That name Ogilvie keeps popping up on this walk, in fact Glencairn was the son of Alexander Ogilvie, who created the Sizewell Hall estate we passed through earlier in our walk. The younger Ogilvie created Thorpeness as a holiday village venture, apparently one of only two such holiday villages in the uk (the other being Portmeirion). Of course there are lots of specially created holiday villages around the UK today, but few, if any, are open to the general public to walk around.
Thorpeness – “The House in the Clouds” overlooks the Meare
The beach is bordered by a number of bungalows sitting amongst the sand-dunes. Friends of mine once owned one of these and used it as a holiday retreat for themselves and their family, or rented it out to holiday-makers.
Typical ‘shantytown’ bungalows hidden amongst the Thorpeness dunes
We decide to stop at Thorpeness for our mandatory tea and ‘sticky bun’. As we approach the Meare, a boating lake created by Ogilvie, we get a good view of the former water tower built for the village. Ogilvie’s vision was to create a fantasy village for his friends to use for holidays. In fact it was probably an early model for Disney World. The utilitarian water tower was disguised with a house on the top of it, which became known as “The House in the Clouds” and can be rented today.
The Meare was created by damming up the Hundred River which is only about 2 feet deep. I have been out on it a couple of times with children, who really enjoyed rowing around the miniature archipelago at the western end. One of Ogilvie’s friends was J.M.Barry, the creator of Peter Pan. Many of the islands were themed about the characters in his book, including Wendy’s House, The Pirates’ Lair and Peter Pan’s Island.
The Meare and adjacent tea rooms
The obvious tea shop overlooking the Meare is shut for the winter, but we find a pleasant alternative in The Kitchen across the road, where we take tea and a slice of carrot cake. The place is bursting with ‘Ladies who Lunch’, many of whom look like they have been on a walking outing together. Attached to the café is an antiques market, which adds extra interest to the watering hole.
Suitably refreshed we continue walking southwards along the pebble beach, which is a good 100 m wide at this point. We pass our friends’ modest holiday home, but a number of dwellings look like Grand Designs and are evidently lived-in year-round.
Once again patches of more permanent pebble beach are colonised by Sea Cabbage, which somehow manages to eke out a living in an environment few others can survive.
The vegetated pebble beach at Thorpeness – disturbed by the sea (right) and walkers (left)
South of Thorpeness the area is dominated by greensward, between the road and the sea. As we approach Aldeburgh we pause to admire the breaking waves on the shore, before continuing along this pebble desert towards Benjamin Britten’s hometown.
Breaking wave sequence, as successive fore-washes over-run the retreating backwashes
A few hundred yards before we reach the town, we come across Maggi Hambling’s sculpture of a scallop shell – well two actually, but one of them has been cut to look like wings mounted on the other. Apparently the good burghs of Aldeburgh are not overly enamored of it, but it has added to the fame of the town. It was created to commemorate Benjamin Britten and his music, with extracts of words from his opera – Peter Grimes.
The stainless steel ‘Scallop’, sculpted by Maggi Hambling, stares out into the North Sea
The beach is littered with fishing boats and fishing shacks, where local fishermen sell their fresh wares to visitors. We stop and chat briefly with a couple of chaps playing boules and I ask if I can photograph them. They are appreciative of being asked “Most people don’t bother – they just take a picture,” grumbles one of them.
Fishing boats and shacks selling produce of the North Sea – it reminds us of Hastings and home
As we wait for the bus to Leiston, two other male pensioners stand waiting to use their bus passes. The bus is late, but I don’t mind as I finally get to use my OAP bus pass for the first time. Betty doubtless looks on with envy, as she has to cough-up a couple of quid for her fare. The ride to Leiston is short, where we collect the car before returning to Thorpeness to pick up our three slabs of Crag.
Happy pensioners, bus passes at the ready, get a free ride to Leiston
Our rape of the Suffolk beaches complete, we drive on to Aldeburgh and have our lunch on the beach in a shelter near the Moot Hall, watched hopefully by jackdaws and gulls. Herring gulls have this strange demeanor, sidling up towards their would-be food donor before emitting a noise I last heard uttered by Albert Steptoe in the 60’s sitcom. We gleefully consume every morsel, leaving none for them. We don’t have a soft spot for gulls in particular.
The Moot Hall at Aldeburgh
Lunch finished, we decide to return to our holiday let for a cup of tea, before continuing our walk as far as the River Alde. The tide is well out by now, allowing for much easier walking on the exposed sand further out, rather than the energy-sapping pebbles encountered thus far.
Lengthening shadows on the beach as the winter sun sets
The afternoon sun is dropping low and there is definitely a chill in the air as the sun sinks closer to the western horizon. Eventually we reach Fort Green car park before a short walk along the northern end of Orford Ness. Alas this is as far as the National Trust will permit coast-walkers along this amazing tongue of land deposited by longshore drift. Over the centuries it has grown southward like Pinocchio’s nose from Aldeburgh, past Orford and almost as far as Shingle Street 10 or 12 miles away. Perhaps if we return in a few centuries time it will have reached Felixstowe?
For now we make do with the Aldeburgh Martello Tower and the view of tomorrows walk along the opposite bank of the River Alde.
Aldeburgh Martello Tower – day’s end