Sea Palling to Mundesley 24th September 2020
Today is to be our final day of Norfolk Coast path walking. We had intended staying a further day and completing the missing link between Brancaster and Old Hunstanton, but alas tomorrow’s forecast is very high winds, so after today’s efforts we will head back to East Sussex, where the weather is set fair.
Even today the wind is up a little as we park Beryl’s car at Mundesley and then leave ours at Sea Palling. Not surprisingly the car park and village at Sea Palling is much quieter than it was a couple of days ago. Most holiday-makers prefer sunshine and a mid-to-low tide. It is currently cloudy, windy and high tide. However, we are delighted to have the coast largely to ourselves.
Whilst the ladies are visiting the local ablution hut I have a look at one or two items of interest on display for the benefit of the interested holiday-maker. The first of these is of a now defunct siren, first utilised 80 years ago to warn of enemy aircraft. It then served a similar purpose during the cold war period, before being utilised once again to warn of sea flooding risks.
Defunct World War 2
Flood warning siren
The second artefact is a sculpture of one of the bull seals we got so close to on the beach two days ago. “Cooter” is carved out of a single beech trunk and weighs over 1,000 Kg, probably close in weight to the real thing.
Sculpture of Cooter, a Sea Palling Bull Seal
I follow the now relieved ladies up and down the ramp which takes us over the dunes and to the beach, where they get into conversation with a man and his two ladies on electric folding bicycles. An electric bike is becoming one of Betty’s ‘bucket’ items, whilst I am resisting until I can no-longer cycle under my own steam.
It is ironic that this subject comes up, as it was close to here that myself and a dozen children from the school I taught at, had a boating/cycling holiday about 20 years ago. We moored the boat at West Somerton and cycled the whole beach almost as far as Sea Palling. Alas my miserable little folding bike was not quite up to the stress put on it by cross-country trekking and it split its tyre. If I ever get an electric bike it will need to be a proper mountain-bike version.
The ramp over the dunes at Sea Palling
As we head north of the slipway we are re-acquainted with our old friends the sea defences. Just about the whole of our Norfolk Coast Path tour has been obsessed with the threats offered by the sea on this coast. But that is the reality of visiting or living on the Norfolk Coast. You will never be far from a sea wall, rip-rap, gabions, groynes or revetments. If you want a natural seaside holiday, away from concrete and other engineering, don’t come to this coast. For my part I find it fascinating.
Sea Palling sea defences include our old friends concrete sea wall, rip-rap and in the background modern rip-rap reefs
The seawall has an interesting curved profile designed to deflect some of the power of the waves away from the wall. But in some places the sea is threatening to undermine the wall, so loose boulders have been placed in front of it. This strategy is repeated 20 metres further down the shore to absorb some of the waves’ power. The whole effect is unnatural.
The construction of off-shore reefs however gives a much more natural feel.
The diagram below is a birds-eye view of the coast and illustrates how these reefs utilise our understanding of wave action and coastal sedimentation processes. This new philosophy supersedes the concept of erecting walls and other hard engineered structures, with the final result more natural and much easier on the eye.
At low tide the dried beach sand is prone to being picked up by on-shore winds and deposited further inland as dunes (existing ones, or a brand new embryonic one).
Embryonic sand dune develops behind the new reef structures
As we move further north the concrete sea wall has disappeared under the dune sand. A pair of turnstones join us, flitting in and out of the surf on their short, bright orange legs. I don’t know what they are looking for, but they are religious in their devotion to the task in hand.
Further along and the seawall returns from under the sand which must have engulfed it further south. It is just as well the sea wall is here since despite the falling tide, the sea is still lapping at its base.
At this point we need to climb a set of steps up the sea wall and walk along the top to avoid a good drenching at the hands of the North Sea. I’m intrigued to note that a former World War Two pill-box has been incorporated into the concrete structure of the wall, as though the TARDIS had rematerialized within it. Perhaps it is all a big Spike Milligan joke, after all we are at Eccles on Sea.
Beryl negotiates one of the many steps up onto the dunes. Behind her is a pill-box incorporated into the sea wall
We stop for lunch for 30-minutes watching the waves still pounding at the foot of the sea wall. From the top of the sea wall we are able to see the radar ‘golf ball’ we passed yesterday at Mundesley, shining in sun. Journey’s end doesn’t look too far away.
The sea continues to be too high for us to walk on the beach, with the surf still pounding away at the base of the sea wall. This means that when we arrive at the Happisburgh (pronounced “Haze-boro”) Lifeboat Station Slipway we have to pass beneath it. The original slip way at Happisburgh village was washed away in a big storm in 2002, with the whole lifeboat station forced to relocate to its current position at Cart Gap.
A few hundred metres further along, the sea wall comes to a sudden stop and we have to negotiate our way into a small bay to the north, above the current tide level. Unfortunately this involves dodging the waves which continue to assault the base of the sea wall. I don’t know why the sea wall stops at this point. In fact it seems quite bizarre considering only 1 km further north is the high profile coastal erosion taking place at Happisburgh village.
Doing a bit of on-line digging it seems that the sea wall between Winterton and Cart Gap is the responsibility of The Environment Agency. North of here it is the responsibility of North Norfolk District Council.
The sea south of here threatens breaching the sand dunes along the coast and causing massive flooding of the Norfolk Broads area. This has nationally strategic importance so is understandably overseen by the government’s Environment Agency, whilst north of here the impact is largely upon local communities, so is considered the responsibility of North Norfolk District Council.
With the land close to the coast here rising to 15 metres, the building of a sea wall was probably not considered relevant to protection of The Broads from sea flooding. The residents of Happisburgh doubtless disagree. It’s a classic case of lack of joined-up government.
Betty and Beryl negotiate their way under Happisburgh Lifeboat Station Slipway
Betty and Beryl are challenged yet again – this time invoking the spirit of Canute
Happisburgh village perches perilously on the edge of Norfolk, as the sea removes great chunks of the coast
Happisburgh is in the throes of fighting a seemingly never-ending battle with the sea to hold onto every grain of land. In 2001 the local action group pressured the council into consultation over proposed new sea defences. However, this was objected to by local ‘Lord of the Manor’ Eric Coates and Professor Keith Clayton of University of East Anglia, both of whom have since died.
Clayton was a pioneering environmentalist who amongst other things believed that the sea should be allowed to ‘do its thing’ unabated. This is the philosophy/practice of managed retreat. The thinking goes that any material eroded from the coastline nourishes the adjacent beach, which in turn absorbs much of the wave energy. This approach is favoured over constructing massive concrete sea defences, with the cost of compensation for loss of property being significantly less than the cost of hard engineering.
Once we have negotiated our way from the sea wall to the beach it becomes obvious what happens if managed retreat is permitted. The photo below shows what has happened to the unprotected area of coast north of the sea wall – rapid erosion of the cliffs. At the sea wall itself, the photo shows that it is still being battered by waves, whilst north of it (nearer to the camera) a shelving beach has formed, which absorbs much of the waves’ energy. It is possible to see waves spilling offshore followed by a gentle swash up the beach. The expectation is that the bay to the north of the sea wall is now less likely to erode. The whole sea-beach-cliff system is now in a state of dynamic equilibrium.
Looking south towards the Cart Gap sea wall, from Happisburgh
A large rock ramp has been constructed at Happisburgh to permit access to the beach. This has had to be protected with boulders brought in on a large barge from Norway. They would then have been offloaded onto a smaller barge, able to manoeuvre close to the cliffs at high tide. Here the boulders, each weighing 10-15 tons would have been dumped overboard. As the tide fell, bulldozers would then have positioned the boulders at the base of the cliff.
Looking north from the rock ramp – boulders protect the cliff base from the more powerful waves at high tide
In 2016 Betty and I cycled down the newly built rock ramp at Happisburgh, followed by a pleasant ride along the beach. Here we encountered what appeared to be a strange fence running parallel to the cliffs – wooden revetment. It reminded me of a border wall between two nations and in effect it was, between the land and the sea. The purpose of this 3 metre high revetment, built in the late 1950s, was to protect the base of the cliff from erosive North Sea waves. Sixty years on, by my reckoning the cliff line has retreated some 40 or 50 metres – about 60-70cm per year. Some sources calculate the cliff recession today being nearer 2 metres per year.
The height of the tide this afternoon now forces us to climb the rock ramp and walk on the cliff tops, giving us a different perspective from our last visit. At least from here we should get a better view to assess the degree of slumping.
As I climb the rock ramp I can see that the large boulders placed to protect it are still allowing some erosion, with the base of the ramp slowly being eaten away at. Looking back towards Cart Gap I can see all the way down the coast to Sea Palling. To my right is Happisburgh Lighthouse, which has the distinction of being the only one in the UK to be independently run. It stands a good 100-200 metres from the cliff edge, so should be safe from the sea for a few years yet.
Happisburgh Lighthouse, the only one in the UK that is independently managed
The best way to appreciate the rate of erosion is to compare aerial shots 20 years apart, as shown in the photos below.
Happisburgh cliff recession 1999-2019 lines “20 years of coastal erosion
The two photos were not taken from exactly the same position, so to help, I’ve added coloured lines showing the positions of field boundaries. The red line follows the boundary between the back gardens of Beach Road and the adjacent (2019) ploughed field. The orange line shows the approximate position of the 2019 coastline. The blue line is the western boundary of the 2019 car park, whilst the green line is a continuation of this northward until it joins the orange line of the 2019 coastline. The black line marks the northern boundary of the 2019 car park.
What is most obvious is the amount of land and houses lost over 20 years – especially at the eastern end of Beach Road. In 2012 it was estimated that the coastline would have moved close to the positions of the blue and green lines by 2025. In 4 years’ time we should know how close that estimate is.
The coast path takes us through the car park and into Beach Road, where we stopped in 2016 for a cuppa at a small open-air café opened by the owners of one of the red circled terraced houses. Sadly it is closed today, although there appear to be plenty of people around to provide business.
Our walk takes us north into the field opposite, where we are soon reacquainted with the cliff line. Happisburgh parish church is set 100 metres back from the cliffs. It is several hundred years old, but its existence is only transient compared to relentless work of the sea. I give it perhaps a 100 years more. For the next couple of miles the coastline looks like ‘pie-crust pastry’ in its outline, with fields and the coast path being the only significant losers in the land’s one-sided battle with the sea.
Pie crust coastline north of Happisburgh
Eventually we pass through a small modern housing estate called Ostend, before returning to the coast via a concrete ramp. Searching the Internet I can find no explanation as to why it is called Ostend, but it is probably because it is at the East (Ost) end of Walcott village. The only snippet of information provided by Wikipedia tells us “Ostend achieved a degree of national notability in June 2002 when a rare specimen of Cuvier’s beaked whale (Ziphius cavirostris) was stranded on its beach.” There may be a lot more history to come, if it is still here in 50 years time! I did find this interesting account from the 1960s. It vividly describes the power of the sea on this coast.
https://www.francisfrith.com/walcott/the-fence-on-the-beach_memory-344341
The beach at Ostend is sandy, with an elevated ‘terrace’ of sand at its upper end. When we get to Walcott Beach a large sign explains all.
Bacton to Walcott Sandscaping Scheme
In summary, to protect the gas terminal at Bacton and the local settlements of Walcott and Bacton, a scheme has been delivered whereby thousands of tons of sand were sucked from the sea bed and deposited on the upper beach here in 2019. The expectation is that this will slow the advance of the sea, as a more attractive and less expensive alternative to the 1950’s hard engineering further south. The following web site and video explain it beautifully.
Walking gives you a thirst, so we decide to indulge ours by visiting the Kingfisher Café and Ice Cream Parlour on the sea front. Due to Covid 19 rules they are only providing take-aways, but that’s fine by us as we are happier parking our bottoms on one of their picnic tables and consuming some of Beryl’s rather scrummy flap-jack with our tea.
Everything about this coast has a temporary feel to it and Bacton is no different. All its sea front dwellings appear to be modern. The first property we encounter is on a wedge-shaped bit of land and is occupied by motor caravans. The owners have gone to great trouble building walls around it, I suspect so that planners are unaware of their self-build ‘Grand Design’ as they seek to make their existence here increasingly permanent.
Further along, the modern bungalows are sitting-ducks should a big storm come in. They have the protection of an additional wall placed between them and Neptune’s wrath, but the cards look stacked against them. I wonder how planners can permit modern developments on a coastline like this one? The cost to the tax payer – by way of sea defences or compensation, is hardly justifiable. The developers have obviously long since taken their profit and moved on.
The beach between Walcott and Bacton with its man-made dune
An Englishman’s home is his castle
A six-foot wall is scant protection for these new houses
We have by now had quite enough of concrete and modern brickwork, so we return to walking the beach and enjoying the pleasant sound of the waves breaking on sand. If the top of the shore is the place to contemplate the coast’s problems, the edge of the water is a place of quiet meditation. Besides the swash and backwash of the spilling waves, other sights and sounds abound. Small wading birds such as turnstones scurry in and out, the sea alternates between whites, blues and greys and fluffy white cumulus clouds process across the sky occasionally allowing the sun to warm us. Time passes differently here and it is not long before we are past the lower areas of Bacton and the cliffs start to rise once again.
Returning to the top of the beach, one structure in particular catches the eye here – Bacton Gas Terminal. About one third of all the gas used in the UK flows through this plant.
Bacton Gas Terminal has a legendary place in my memory. My father was responsible for the conversion of South Yorkshire and later Nottinghamshire to natural gas back in the 1960s. One day he brought home a board game designed to educate the public about conversion to natural gas.
My two elder brother and I were keen to play it, having perhaps had our fill of Monopoly. I was an avid board game player – with friends, my brothers and even on my own (which perhaps was an early indication of schizophrenia!). Sadly the board game was not particularly stimulating, but the map of Eastern England emblazoned upon the board did have one memorable place name – Bacton. Then as now, all that gas came ashore here. Perhaps not as famous as Mayfair or Old Kent Road, but memorable nonetheless.
Nearly 60 years later I have finally made it to Bacton!
Bacton Gas Terminal – the ‘Mayfair’ of North Sea Gas
The 2019 man-made dune is much higher here – perhaps as much as 3 metres high. This comes as no surprise since the jewel in Bacton’s crown must be the gas terminal. I suspect it employs a lot of local people, but most of all it has strategic national importance and must be protected from the sea at all costs. A large digger is in the process of massaging the front of the ‘sand dune’. It is obvious why – a little further along recent spring high tides have removed much of the ‘dune’s’ front edge.
You have to wonder as to the efficacy of this experimental approach to sea defences, especially considering the potential problems that might ensue if a big storm got its teeth into the gas terminal. For my part, I can’t understand why the ‘belt and braces’ heavy engineering solution was not employed here much earlier. A massive concrete sea wall may not be as attractive as an artificially nourished beach, but a gas terminal hardly enhances the local scenery anyway. Of course concrete sea walls are prohibitively expensive, but the cost must be small fry compared to the loss of the nation’s key gas terminal!
The recent spring high tides have taken a big bite out of the manmade beach
Walking along, I get the impression that the recently stolen sand may not have travelled far, with the Victorian groynes further down the beach swamped with sand. As discussed earlier, this ‘down-beach’ sand is vital to induce early breaking of the waves, preventing the sea getting at the soft cliffs further up.
Buried beach groynes suggest that the sand from the new beach has been redistributed further down
The wooden revetment which is so common along this coast has been incorporated into the new beach building scheme, acting as a fence to hold the sand. The steep, but soft cliffs will continue to slump until they have adopted a stable angle of repose and it will be some years before they return to stability, despite the new defences. Only then will vegetation be able to colonise the slope and in turn add to its stability. It is notable however, that in places marram grass is already growing through the wind-blown sand at the base of the cliffs.
Older wooden revetment has a part to play in the new defences
Behind the revetment the cliffs will continue to slump for a few years
A recent landslip
Pleasingly, wildlife was not overlooked when the sea defences were constructed, with signs advising walkers of the coast path to avoid the upper beach where nesting birds are anticipated. They (and the sign itself) may not be safe from the ravages of a high spring tide.
This sign advises walkers to avoid nesting bird sites
Alas the council engineers initially saw the sand martins that nest in the soft sediment of the cliffs as a threat to their stability and had them covered with bird-proof nets. Thank God for concerned bird-watchers and Saint Christopher of Packham (the patron saint of wildlife) who pointed out the folly of their ways. https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/av/uk-england-norfolk-47902802
Sand martins excavate nest holes in the soft cliffs
Finally staggering like troops from the Dunkirk beaches, we are back onto dry land at Mundesley. We just have time for a final group photo before dashing off to the chippy for a celebratory fishy supper.
Mundesley and its concrete sea wall greet us at the conclusion of our Norfolk Coast Path walk
Billy, Beryl and Betty pause for a brief celebratory thumbs up before dashing off ‘down the chippy’
Post script
The day after our visit to Walcott (25th September 2020) high winds hit Norfolk, with the sea washing away a significant proportion of the man-made dune built to protect the coast at Walcott and Bacton. The high winds also picked up a large proportion of the sand off the beach and deposited it on the adjacent houses and roads. The experts anticipate that much of the sand will be moved around by the sea before stabilising. The problem of course is that it could all end up back where it started – offshore, leaving the beach as it was before the sandscaping project.
https://www.edp24.co.uk/news/sand-washed-away-bacton-walcott-sandscaping-project-1455916