Orford Circular 10th January 2020
It is 10.10am as we stand on a cold, cloudy morning looking out from the Quay at Orford towards Orford Ness. It is still wet from overnight rain, but at least the sun is starting to peek through. This is our last day of walking in Suffolk. We won’t have walked the whole of the Suffolk coast over the last 5 days, but not far short. We’re actually only going to walk 5 miles of the coast today, since the other 5 miles will be spent returning to our start point by an inland route. It is of course debatable whether or not we are walking the coast at all, since our course north along the west side of the River Ore is arguably alongside an estuary. It is the inaccessibility of Orford Ness that is creating our problem. So today’s trek at least makes us walk alongside salty water.
It is interesting to note that there are regular ferries across to Orford Ness, with the next being a “Sunday Brunch from 9:30 to 11:30”. I assume it is a mini-cruise with food, since 2 hours is hardly enough time to walk the whole of the Ness.
The view from Orford Quay to Orford Ness – you can just make-out the ‘atomic’ Pagodas
Orford Ness is one of those mysterious and secretive places scattered around the UK, especially along its coast. This is a largely 20th Century phenomenon linked to the military. Access to sites such as Salisbury Plain, Warbarrow Bay and Fylingdales Moors is understandably limited or certainly was in the past. Orford Ness ranks along with these, having once been used by the military for long range radio and then the testing of radar prior to World War Two. Since then it was used by the Atomic Weapons Research Establishment, who were responsible for the large bunkers known as pagodas that can be seen from this bank of the River Ore. Now it is owned by the National Trust who permit limited access to the Ness.
However, it is its geomorphological history that most interests me, being fashioned by the North Sea over centuries of longshore drift. This spit, or cuspate foreland is mostly made of flint pebbles, which give rise to the largest vegetated spit in Europe. Its shape and size have varied over the centuries, but it has long been one of the more isolated areas of the UK and hence of considerable interest to coast explorers like ourselves.
Alas we will not have the opportunity of setting foot during this trip, but hopefully sometime in the near future. Today we will head north on this side of the River Alde, although according to the OS map it is called the River Ore at this end. Interestingly enough, Google Maps does not recognise the name change, calling the whole length of the river the River Alde. As we walk, Orford Ness will be a few hundred yards to our right until we reach a point opposite Aldeburgh Martello Tower. We will be walking along the top of the sea wall for about 3 hours, which in my experience is not likely to be packed with things of great interest – that’s why we try to cycle such legs as these when we can.
On passing a cluster of fishing huts and a café we discover that the top of the sea wall has been walked by many feet over the last few days, being very slippery and muddy underfoot. We find that the best option is to walk on the landward side of the wall, which is understandably less popular than the top, with the views being very limited. Still, at least we are out of the wind down here.
Fishing huts and café north of Orford Quay
The sea wall is very like the ones found in Essex and Kent, created when they reclaimed land from the salt marsh over the last few hundred years. A large ditch, or borrowdyke, follows the inland side of the sea wall into which the lowland reclaimed from the sea can drain its waters. Doubtless we will come across a pump-house of some description shortly, removing this accumulated water into the River Alde (or Ore). The sea wall would have been created from the material taken from the borrowdyke, hence the name.
The land here is very fertile, being alluvium derived from seasonal flooding of the Alde. Alluvial deposits benefit from all the nutrients washed downstream from the upland areas, which have in turn been stripped of much of theirs. Some farmers grow arable crops on the reclaimed land, although they risk flooding and the subsequent loss of harvest during periods of heavy rainfall. Most fields however seem to be given-over for livestock – dairy, beef or sheep. Further along the sea wall it is notable that cattle have wandered into what little remains of the salt marsh and have ‘poached’ it, with their hooves churning it up into a muddy slurry. Further still we discover that the saltmarsh is lost completely, with the foot of the seawall covered with the brown alga, Knotted Wrack. This highlights the plight of saltmarsh, which once covered the whole of this area in great swathes of purple Sea Lavender flowers; the fleshy, edible leaves and stems of Poor-man’s Asparagus and coarse tufts of Cord Grass. The ‘winning’ of the waste for farmland left just a narrow strip of saltmarsh on the seaward side, with this now being taken by the sea as sea-level rising gradually but inexorably creeps higher and higher. One day I’m sure the sea must claim back all its land hereabouts and the saltmarsh will return.
Saltmarsh inundated by the tide – note the poaching by cattle in the foreground(right)
All the time we are walking the mysterious bunkers and communications masts of Orford Ness seem to follow our every move. Who knows what eyes from across the water are suspiciously watching the two lonely travellers.
As we plod along the seawall, the cold January wind fortunately at our backs, we are able to tick off wildfowl including two Shelduck sitting out on the water, a Heron in flight with its languid wing-beats and the unmistakable calling of an Oyster Catcher from the Ness.
The seawall
As we draw opposite the northernmost of the line of radio masts on Orford Ness, the saltmarsh returns. Spartina, Sea Aster and Sea Purslane dominate this patch of saltmarsh. It was only last year that I discovered that Sea Aster is a delicacy eaten with fish in Normandy, whilst we were holidaying there. Yesterday in Aldeburgh, at one of the fishing shacks to the north of the town, was the first time that I had seen it on sale with fish in the UK.
We soon arrive at the electric pumping station I had anticipated earlier, which is tasked with pumping water out of the borrowdyke at low water. This would probably have been predated by a diesel, steam driven and even wind powered versions in the past. An electric fence surrounds it, keeping out the grazing cattle.
The electric pumping station
We are able to add Little Egret to our list of birds, five of them in total. This distinctive small heron didn’t appear in the UK until 1989, since when its numbers have expanded rapidly, becoming common on most of the coast of England and Wales and even north into Scotland.
At the northern end the river turns us westward, away from the sea as a flock of 19 curlews take off from the flooded Saltmarsh – it is high tide. As we leave the sea wall to head back to Orford we encounter a collection of molehills. Nothing unusual about molehills, but I can’t ever recall seeing molehills on any sea wall we’ve walked. I suppose they can be a bit restricting for moles, who certainly would not welcome regular incursions of water into their runs.
Mole-hills are an unusual spectacle on the sea wall
On the edge of the saltmarsh is an impromptu shelter with name ‘Bale Beer Bar’ emblazoned across it. It is unfortunately not serving today and looks like the sort of place that the Aldeburgh Sailing Club might make an outing to for their midsummer barbecue.
The seawall provides a bit of elevated land for an impromptu bar
At this point we follow the Suffolk Coast Path waymarks up to Sandy Ridge, which gives us elevated view of the upper Alde estuary. I suspect Sandy Ridge was originally an esker, formed by a sub-glacial river which deposited sands during the Ice Age.
The fields hereabouts have incredibly sandy soil, hence the name ‘Sandlings’ which is applied to this area. The poor soil not only suffers from low fertility but is prone to being blown or washed away. However, it is an ideal place to grow turf, which is sold by the acre to garden centres up and down the UK.
The sandy Sandlings soil is ideal for growing turf, but is subject to wind and water erosion
With a good application of organic material the soil is excellent for market gardening. We pass a farm where even in January labourers, probably from East Europe, are backs-bent lifting greens and putting them onto a conveyor belt.
The return journey to Orford takes us through Tunstall Forest and then across the main road to Orford before we end up on the sea wall again, to the south of Orford. When we return to finish the Suffolk Coast Path, we will probably cycle from Felixstowe to Butley Ferry, cross over on the boat and walk the two or three miles to here, just so that we can say “we did it all”.
Walking back to Orford town, via the sea wall
The tidal River Ore, Orford town and Orford Castle (left of shot) from the sea wall to the south