May 8th: Seal watching at Blakeney Point

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May 8^th: Having checked the weather forecast, today seemed the best time to venture to the coast for a seal watching boat trip to Blakeney Point, revisiting a place from RL’s childhood. RL no longer owns a car but belongs to a car club - and it all appears very civilised. He pays a small monthly membership, then books the car in hourly increments. Time can be added or subtracted from the original reservation, in 15-minute increments, while you have the car - as long as no one else has it booked. The reservation fee is not high, you pay additional for the mileage, must return it in good condition … and someone else cleans and maintains it. It seems to work out cheaper than renting a car through a conventional company, and he has the benefit of reserving the same car each time.

We booked a Yaris hybrid and set off for Blakeney, arriving just in time to jump on the boat and head out to sea. We had reserved the trip through Ptarmigan seal trips, although there are a few other operators and all charge the same price. The small ferry boats leave from Morston Quay, are ruled by the tide and do not venture out into the cold North Sea but only as far as the limits of Blakeney Harbour. It took about twenty minutes for the boat to arrive at the Point, passing all manor of sailing boats as well as the lifeboat house and the 100-year old Mary, a former lifeboat. Blakeney Point is a four-mile-long sand and shingle spit joining the Norfolk coast at Cley-next-the sea. It is where grey seals and common seals come to have their pups. We didn’t see any pups, but quite a few seals. Some lazed on the sand, others cavorted in front of us … like dolphins, they are difficult to photograph – appearing like the Loch Ness monster in many of my photos! Expecting cooler weather along the coast, we had brought jackets and dressed warmly, only to be treated to Florida like temperatures.

Boat trip over we stopped briefly at the Stiffkey saltmarsh then ventured to Wells-next-the-sea (don’t you love these names?) - RL hoping for some Cromer crab, but settling for crab sandwiches and another seafood tray of cockles, mussels and whelks. I think I’ve had my fill of these now … but hopefully won’t have to wait another 34 years for such delights. I believe RL could go longer without trying whelks again. Whilst lunching on the seafront at Wells-n-t-s we joined the crowds watching a dredger at work; each questioning the other as to the procedure and objective. We walked around the small town enjoying the picturesque houses and then made for home …

But historic Georgian Holt was en route, so we stopped to explore then stopped for tea at the Black Apollo. Curious about the name, we learned that that was the name given to coffee by several 18^th century writers. Who knew! We spent ages exploring all the nooks and crannies at Holt and found ourselves in a little shop called Baron Art where I picked up a delightful little 1897 gem titled “The story of weather.” We stayed for what seemed like days, chatting to the owner, Anthony, as if to a long-lost friend. Continuing on our wanderings around town it was finally time for dinner and we settled on doner kebabs, carved from the spit, and chips. We sat on a park bench to eat them and then made for home …

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Passing Blickling Hall we stopped for a quick photo and arrived home safely, minutes before the Yaris turned into a pumpkin.

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May 7th: Ely Cathedral and Food Festival

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For more information about the fen lands, go to the following links:

The fens: England below sea level

Flooding to give fenland back to nature

Fen sluice gates

Managing dykes, ditches and drains

May 7^th: Bank holiday Monday, there was a food festival on the Cathedral green at Ely, and the sun was shining … so off we went to Ely. We caught the train at Norwich and sped through the gorgeous East Anglian countryside. I’d forgotten just how beautiful England is, with its undulating green fields and sleepy towns. I miss the Spanish moss of Florida, I no longer look for gators when we’re near a body of water. But, at times it also feels as though Florida – Venice - belongs to a different phase of my life – a distant time.  Did I really leave all of this to camp in places like the river of grass? Michigan? “Michigan seems like a dream to me now…” Could I really leave the gators and pelicans, dolphins, manatees and palmettos to return to this? The sun has been out almost constantly since my arrival, and yet it’s different, higher, brighter, less intense than the same celestial object in Fl. The light is different too.

The arrival into Ely, “Isle of eels” heightens one’s senses, and builds expectations for the “ship of the fens” as the Cathedral is known. The fens are marshland, an inland waterway, reclaimed in the 17^th century for agriculture by building ditches (or dykes). If the sluice gates were opened, the fens would be flooded within hours. As the train pulled into Ely station, we saw the lovely old barges and houseboats on the river, families out walking the towpath., and the Cathedral rising high above the City. We made our way to the Cathedral passing cows in the meadow, and flowers and blossoms everywhere. We opted for the guided tour of the 14^th century Octagon tower – with its inclusive cup of tea …  a well earned treat after climbing the 170 steep, narrow, spiral steps! The views from the top of the tower – both inside and out – are astounding. After the tour we explored the remainder of the cathedral; stunning architecture and stained-glass windows - many of which were replaced during the Victorian era. We snagged the last leaflet showing the locations of The Green Man carved into stone, and RL and I having been lovers of the I-Spy books when we were young were now on a mission! We toured the stained glass museum, seeing the difference in colour and technique change over time, and then we ventured out into the food festival for lunch.

The first stall we came to sold seafood. That was me sorted: I had been passing the Norwich market every day but had not yet purchased a tray of cockles, mussels and whelks. Now was the time! I live by the Gulf of Mexico, seafood is plentiful and mussels can be purchased in any grocery store or restaurant … but cockles and whelks are a childhood memory. On Friday nights the seafood stall would open outside the Horse and Groom pub and my father and I would walk there and share a plate of whelks covered in salt and vinegar. Summertime often meant visiting my (great) aunty Anne in Pegwell Bay, Kent. We would spend time at the shore, exploring rock pools for cockles, winkles, limpets and other shellfish and bring them home to steam and devour. Oh yes, a mixed tray please.    

Gin has become ‘a thing’ recently, and there were assorted gin vendors dotted around the green. Elderberry is everywhere and in everything! We sampled foods, gins and wines from all the vendors, leaving little room for a proper dinner … and then we spied, or rather smelled, the samosa stand.

Fully sated, we made our way to Oliver Cromwell’s house in the middle of town. The house is a lovely thatched cottage next door to the church, but very disappointing as a museum.

Then it was back on the train to Norwich, sighting pheasant, pigs, sheep and cattle along the way, and windmills off in the distance.