Winterton to Sea Palling 22nd September 2020
We had a bit of a rest day yesterday. You do need them occasionally you know? The problem with our way of mounting an ‘expedition’ to the far flung corners of the British coastline is that we have to return to base camp each day ie. the caravan. Sometimes I envy the backpacker, either carrying his home (his tent that is), with him from A to B and then on to C, or alternatively stopping overnight in a B&B. But returning to base works for us, on a financial and an emotional level, even if it means the extra driving and all the domestic chores that go with caravanning.
Our 15 mile trek from Wells-next-the-sea to Brancaster was sandwiched between 2 stints of one and a quarter hours of driving. It’s the driving, especially at the end of the day, that finishes you off. So we took a break.
Yesterday was a lovely sunny day, so we stayed local and went canoeing up the River Ant from Wayford Bridge to Dilham. Only about 2 miles of paddling, perhaps 3 with detours, but different muscles and a totally different mind set – messing about on the river.
At a local level, one of the over-riding concerns when considering global warming/climate change is its potential impact upon the Norfolk Broads. Who knows, someone might read this in 20 or 30 years-time and ask the question “So where were the Norfolk Broads?” That is not an unlikely scenario, since it is quite possible that where we are caravanning on the shores of Barton Broad might well be the coastline by then.
However, returning to the present, our batteries are recharged ready for the coming of Beryl. Beryl is an old friend of Betty’s, well mine as well, but an old school chum of Betty’s. They go way back. Beryl will be joining us for the next 3 days walking from Winterton-on-Sea to Sea Palling, Sea Palling to Mundesley and Mundesley to Cromer – although not necessarily in that order, or even in the direction suggested. We will play it all by ear – as ever. The weather is a factor as well, with high winds forecasted for the 25th September, but the prospects are fair until then.
From our caravan site it is only a 20 minute drive to Sea Palling, where we meet up with the aforementioned Beryl. After a socially distant reunion in the car park, Beryl leaves her car and we all head south in ours to Winterton-on-Sea. The great benefit of sharing cars is that you don’t need to execute a circular walk or bother with public transport to return to your car. I don’t mind the journey by bus, in fact it can be very interesting, but it’s a lot more hassle – especially in the midst of a pandemic.
By the time we have parked our car at Winterton it is 11:45am. The car park is pretty rammed for late September, but that’s the odd thing about this year. There are lots more people with time on their hands, who are not allowed to go abroad. So they are all in the UK invading our territory. It is one of the new dictionary terms of 2020 – ‘staycation’. When I was young it was called a seaside holiday, but I suppose we really need new words – if only to sell more dictionaries!
We set off northward along the top of the dunes and despite being exposed to a cool wind from the south, it is a hot day already.
The dunes here are a bit unusual, in that they have greater similarities to those found on the Baltic coast than the ones we passed through earlier in the week along the North Norfolk Coast. These are acidic sand dunes, formed from sand that has little by way of sea-shell derived calcium carbonate in it. I think I prefer the North Norfolk dunes which appear to be much richer in plant species.
Just in case I haven’t already told you – sand dunes are formed by wind-blown sand derived from the large expanse of exposed beach sand in front of them at low tide. Dry, wind-blown sand is trapped by driftwood, vegetation or other ‘anchor’ to form an embryo dune. This can become a permanent feature if vegetation such as Marram Grass grows in it. Over many years this can grow ever taller and become increasingly richer in plant (and animal) species. Eventually even trees can colonise the fixed dune.
The dunes at Winterton are home to a colony of the rare Natterjack Toad but I have yet to see them here. One day we hope to encounter these when we visit Southport Sands, where I had the good fortune many years ago, of finding another colony. A friend and I sat listening one spring evening to the males croaking happily, crooning to their prospective partners.
Alas the heat and the late-season nature of our walk, means we are unlikely to find any today. In fact it is so hot that we decide to leave the dunes and try walking nearer the breaking waves, in the hope of some relief from both the heat and the difficult walking presented by loose sand. Our choice is good and we are also in luck, spotting an Atlantic Grey Seal some 200 metres off-shore. It floats head-up watching us for a while and then swimming alongside us for 200 metres where it is joined by another one. We are delighted at the sighting, but one rarely gets a good view of these magnificent mammals. Just bobbing heads some distance-off.
Betty and Beryl leave the heat of the dunes for the cool of the North Sea
A typical ‘tourist-shot’ of an Atlantic Grey Seal
As we walk the beach I notice the formation of beach cusps. These arcuate features are formed by the forewash pushing large and small sediment up the beach, with the backwash lacking the power to pull back any but the smallest particles. This leaves arcs of larger pebbles along the strand-line.
Betty and Beryl Beach-walking (note the arcuate beach cusps)
After many years of teaching geography I’m a sucker for the various ways in which man is fighting the action of the sea. As mentioned earlier, the dunes at Winterton are vital for the protection of the low-lying Norfolk Broads a few hundred metres behind them. An impressive concrete sea wall protects the dunes, but the best protection comes from the beach. The gently sloping beach induces the waves to spill lower down the beach and dissipate their energy. Without this, the waves would use that energy for erosion – of the dunes in this case. To further discourage the sea’s erosive power, lumps of larvikite rip-rap (rocks from Norway) and wooden groynes have been inserted.
Rip-rap and a concrete sea wall protect the dunes
Wooden groynes protect the beach from erosion by longshore drift
Every groyne is marked by a tall white post at the seaward end. Atop each groyne a cormorant stakes its claim to an area of sea, one assumes for its exclusive use. We are also joined by a small dog intent on warning the escorting seals to stay in the water. It probably can’t see them, but its keen sense of smell works just fine. It is evidently very brave, barking loudly as it struts stiff-legged along the sand, but I suspect it would be the loser should the seals decide to come ashore.
I decide to return to the sand dunes and have a quick ‘gander’ at the view inland. As I top the dunes a great vista of marram-topped sand rolls several hundred metres before me, giving way to low-lying willow scrub. In the distance I can make out the distinctive profile of one of the many churches that sit on ‘high-ground’, just a few metres above the low-lying Hickling Broad that sits between us. So flat and low-lying is this area, that it is not possible to see any of the Broads. In fact you can drive for miles in Norfolk and never see one. They are like yeti, you know they are there, but despite their size they are invisible. The only way to appreciate The Broads is by boat or possibly from the air.
Hickling Broad hidden by trees.
Standing up here I notice a number of solitary figures lurking amongst the marram grass. Suddenly one of them stands up, like a meerkat on sentry duty. I realise he is standing up to get a phone signal, but it then becomes evident that he is bereft of clothing and the penny drops – he and all the others scattered throughout the dunes are naturists collecting their daily dose of vitamin D. I had a similar encounter with my young son some years ago in a hidden cove near Hastings. He was quite keen to move on.
It is not their nudity that is particularly rermarkable, but the uniformity of their age and gender – they are all middle-aged males. No sensible woman of their years would risk solitary naked sunbathing I suppose. I can see the attraction of stripping off in bright sunshine, and at least they are all wearing baseball hats. I just hope that the rest of their naked flesh is suitably sun-screened. I have to say though, that naked sunbathing amongst marram grass is not advised, since it has very sharp-pointed leaves!
As we make our way north we pass further unclothed figures prostrating themselves upon the beach, barely hidden behind screens. Again all are middle-aged males. Thankfully our attention is drawn away from one kind of basking blubber to another – on one of the larvikite rip-rap boulders. To our delight a young seal is out of the water enjoying the warm sun too.
Atlantic Grey Seals
This is the closest I’ve been on foot to seals and my excitement is obvious to a man passing by, as I snap away with my camera.
“You’ll find a lot more of them on the beach a bit further up,” he advises me, “but you’ll find they smell a bit ripe!”
He is right about their number. A large pod of seals are gathered on the beach – approximately 100 of them. Some are dark grey, some lighter and dappled, whilst a few are a rusty brown colour. The bigger, darker ones are males, with the lighter, dappled ones female (in my excitement I think some of them are Common Seals, but I expect not.
A gentle wailing noise, a bit like the wind blowing down a drain-pipe, fills the air. I’m not sure of its purpose, although it could be a general feeling of disquiet amongst them. Too many humans, too close by. I spot a big male with a large scar on its back, possibly inflicted by another male during one of their fights over access to the females. Betty is particularly concerned that one of the seals appears to have some plastic netting around its neck, which appears to be digging into its skin. She wants to report it to somebody in authority.
There is a gap in the dunes here, giving access to the beach for Environment Agency Staff and tourists alike. I wander through the gap to get my bearings and come across an interpretative board, which advises the visitor about the dunes and the seals. The number is provided for the local RSPCA, so we can at least advise them about Betty’s problem seal. But I have an ulterior motive for my foray into the dunes – there is no cover on the beach for a quick leak, but adequate screening near the interpretative sign and an old metal cargo container.
We pause for the lunch in the shade cast by the high concrete walls that hold back the dune sand on either side of the gap and get into conversation with a local couple who roll up from beyond the dunes. She tells us the seals have been here for several years and that people come in large numbers on Christmas Day to observe the little white seal pups which arrive between November and February. I am amazed that there are so many, since there were none when I last cycled along the beach here in 2008. Betty gives the RSPCA number a ring, but the best we can do is leave an answerphone message.
After lunch we continue north along the beach and are amazed to discover a second pod with about 160 individuals. This is quickly followed by a third pod with 50 individuals and a fourth with 85.
A pod of Atlantic Grey Seals bask on the beach (probably no Common Seals – despite the wishful thinking of the observer!)
I now discover the cause of the smell the gentleman was referring to earlier. It is not the smell of the living seals, but the body of a dead seal washed up onto the upper beach. The foul smell of rotting seal flesh is matched by the bright red discolouration of its bloated body. I’m so glad we didn’t stop for lunch here!
This is the last of the seals, which I estimate as numbering perhaps as many as 400. A little further along is the human bathing beach, perhaps numbering as many as the seals we have just passed. In fact many of these look a lot like the dead seal – bloated, torpid and bright red in colour. One look at these specimens of humanity would encourage any self-respecting bull seal to find territory further south.
I am not surprised to find there is a large car park here at Horsey Gap, which accounts for the massed humans hereabouts, within 200 metres, so that they can lay claim to their own bit of beach sand to prostrate themselves on.
From here northward the sea wall is quite substantial. Large blocks of larvikite rip-rap have been dumped on the upper beach here to provide further protection from the sea. Despite this, in places the sea wall looks as though it has been significantly undercut, exposing metal piling.
The sea wall has been reinforced with piling, poured concrete and larvike ‘Rip-Rap’
On climbing some nearby steps to the top of the dunes here, about half-a-mile south of Sea Palling, I note that they are only about 50 metres wide here and a mere 5 metres above the sea wall. Without the manmade defences it is apparent that the sea would easily breach the dunes, causing all sorts of devastation to the farmland, the Broads boating industry and the fragile wetland ecosystem.
Continuing along the top of the sea wall I encounter a man coming the other way. In the narrow space available we execute a difficult ‘covid-shuffle’ around each other. This difficult situation looks set to be repeated a little further along when we meet a young couple with two dogs. Concern is etched across their faces. Climbing over the adjacent wire fence spares their blushes, with the couple expressing their gratitude at my solution. What strange times we live in!
As we approach Sea Palling I can see nine reefs built out of riprap, approximately 100 metres down the shore. They provide excellent sheltered water for the swimming public and the occasional seal.
Riprap placed at low tide to protect the fragile dune system at Sea Palling
At Sea Palling we collect Beryl’s car and return to Winterton for our own, calling in at Waxham Barn for much needed afternoon tea, followed by a brief stop at Horsey Windpump. You would hardly know that we are in the midst of a pandemic which will infect millions and kill hundred. Hopefully the population of the countryside by so many of my fellow Brits has made them more aware of what our country has to offer. Likewise, I hope it opens their minds to the prospect of all that we have seen today, in fact all week, being lost as the climate change ‘pandemic’ ratchets up a notch every year.