EAT Day 9

We woke to light rain – which had started almost immediately after we slid into our bags last night. The sea sounds and dappling rain had seen to us having a great night sleep.

We packed up- experts at this now it takes about thirty minutes – every thing has a little bag of a differing colour that it goes into.

We left off straight into the next caravan park where I’m really glad we weren’t staying. They often put combination locks on their bathrooms so horrible smelly campers like me can’t use their facilities have my camped for free just outside. Another reason to unfairly dislike them.

It was blustery on the coast and, while no one likes wind and rain, we were both disproportionately happy that it meant we were wearing our waterproofs and therefore had used everything in our packs.

We chugged along the sea edge warm in the breeze and managed to avoid rain showers until we didn’t. We kept alternating between rock hard beach sand and horribly difficult thick backwards sand and kept moving about looking for the most compact path- which undoubtedly added at least 15 more miles to our day.

Just as the rain started to up the velocity we mounted the cliff again and walked gloomy grass paths , past pillboxes and aiming for the shelter of St Mary’s church in Happisburgh (pronounced “hays-brah”). We had ample room , chairs and a little table to enjoy coffee and breakfast while the rain hammered down.

Eric has found 3 balls on the beach so far – she plays tired, waits for me to feel sorry for her and take her bags off her then pelts about the beach like she’s not walked 145 miles- after a little lie down in the church she pulled her ball out her bag and wanted to commence the game.

After a hearty plastic bag of gruel and a coffee we made out into the pouring but warm rain, back to the coast and onto a track that lead us into the spectacularly interesting and wonderful shanty that is ‘Eccles’. It felt like we were in the badlands of America, Deadwood or some forgotten nuclear testing site in the middle of the boonies that had been totally forgotten and had somehow come back to life. The streets looked as though they were lined in a block system, the roads were hardcore pot holes tracks. All of the properties were bungalows and none were made of the same material as the one next to it. They all demonstrated features of interest in the front – be that a rusty car unmoved since the 60’s or a collection of owls. Possibly my favourite part of trail so far. The boonies of Eccles.

Onwards and the rain eased, our waterproofs dried out and we were shedding layers as the sun came out, just in time for a lunchtime tipple in the my new favourite spot , Sea Pauling – much the same as Eccles with sea themed paraphernalia filled shacks behind the dunes, but with the sun now out we could have been walking a street in Kingston Jamaica . The pub was friendly and I could have stayed and chatted to the locals into what I’m sure is always a raucous evening.

From here we stuck to the land side of the dunes down easy paths through woodland and eventually breaking into the beautiful meadow and marshland of Winterton. We past the biggest seal colonies I’ve ever seen, and there were many blobs of them. Snakes thought seals were the same as sea lions so was having a minor melt down as we walked past a lone pup (very close) while the parents looked on. Ready to be ripped from limb to limb she needed a Spokesperson to mediate our crossing safely. Eric couldn’t decipher them from the rocks so was none the wiser.

The seals are in their malting season- which I imagine is where the tale of the Selkie comes from, that and hard factual evidence that seals are also beautiful shapeshifting sirens of the sea.

Winterton was not a place I have been before, I cannot imagine why.

We got into the small town and aimed for the very warm and welcoming pub there (I know I know , what a surprise) we dried our tarp off on the railings and treated ourself to a big pub dinner chatted with friendly locals then headed out to camp.

We hoped above all hopes that the same perfect , perfect camp spots would be present on the trail ahead, as they were behind. Of course not. We wanted a couple more miles, but, ahead of us was another holiday park and beyond that the bright lights of ‘Great Yarmouth’.

The wild meadows did continue for a short while but soon we were overshadowed by houses and evening dog walkers and then, the fun fair of the holiday park. As we all know, I could happily sneak in to someone’s garden and bed down for the night , but Snakes isn’t so comfortable with being a little vagrant and has certain standards. Which I think are too high. But yes , I’m aware mine are pretty low.

It became apparent there was nowhere perfect , the beach over the dunes was pretty windy, the high tide mark too close and the private parking area for the holiday park which would have been wonderfully flat and comfortable was to law-breaky for Snakes. We opted (Snakes didn’t , she wanted a hotel) for a patch just outside the holiday park very indiscreetly next to the path. A few people passed by as we set up and smiled and said hello. Eric now deep on slumber woke to a very tall man with a child on his shoulders and went in to mega scary guard poodle mode – luckily he was totally unaffected and just said ‘hello’.

We got in to our beds and some rowdy youths passed with grim music. Snakes didn’t mind that because after investigating she discovered they were girls. At any rate it began to rain, quite hard so that satisfyingly scared everyone away- we weren’t woken again.