Reports: Caroline, Steve

It's All About The Cake - or Wheelers' long weekend eating (sorry, cycling) in Norfolk. Friday 13th was definitely a lucky day for some of us - fabulous sunny warm weather, the start of the Wheelers' weekend away and we even had a lucky 13 participants.

Those who could get Friday off work got a train to Norwich in the morning and cycled 47 miles via the Broads (lunch), the crumbling coast at Happisburgh and Mundesley (afternoon tea with excellent coffee and walnut cake) and the Victorian pier at Cromer to arrive at Sheringham Youth Hostel around 18.30. Along the way we cycled some quiet lanes, took a ferry across the River Bure and administered first aid to one of our number who unfortunately did an unplanned dismount in a flood. Bizarre highlight of the day though has to be the sight of a man in an armchair whooshing past the window at about 20mph and 20 feet above the ground whilst we were having tea - closer inspection revealed a paraglider canopy above the armchair.

At Sheringham we were joined by those who had made their own way from Norwich plus those who had taken the train all the way, and as we were getting hungry again by then we repaired to the pub.

Saturday was a day of choices - 4 chose the Steve Collins led "long" route, two opted for the "medium ride" which seemed to involve a closer inspection of Cromer Pier and a visit to Felbrigg Hall (NT) tea shop, and the remaining seven went on the "seal ride" - a cycle ride of about 12 miles to Morston quay and then a boat trip to see the seals on Blakeney point (so now you know why there are so many pictures of seals on what is supposed to be a cycling website). Medium and seal riders met at Cley-next-the-Sea and basked (a bit like the seals really) and lunched in the sunshine. The "long riders" arrived a bit later, having already notched up about 45 miles, one tea stop, two church stops and what they claimed was the steepest longest hill in Norfolk - this no doubt was punishment meted out by leader Steve who managed to lose all his riders in the first 100 yards out of the hostel when they inadvertently followed the seal trippers. After lunch Steve and Simon muttered something about going to Hunstanton (30 miles or so to the West) but we next saw them ensconced in Wells-next-the-Sea Youth hostel having covered all of 10 miles in the afternoon (albeit along an off road coastal path) - so much for the long ride! Everyone else headed firstly to Cley beach, where we watched the birdwatchers watching gannets with massive telescopes, and then on towards Holkham Hall where only some very fast cycling down through the estate got us to the tea shop before closing time. The last part of the route was via Holkham beach (frequented bu Gwyneth Paltrow in "Shakespeare in Love") to Wells hostel. The Daves had sportingly offered to be the shopping team and a smoked fish and rice dish was duly constructed by the half of the group who preferred cooking to washing up.

Sunday started early for Steve who decided to cycle all the way back to London, and at a more sensible hour for the rest of us who had Fakenham in our sights for morning coffee (and cake of course). We then cycled via mostly quiet lanes to Gressenhall - an ex workhouse, now rural life museum, but we of course were heading for the café.

The last leg of the trip took us through more country lanes and thence to the Marriotts way, an old railway line traffic free path (part of NCN 1) that we followed all the way into Norwich. We just had time to push our bikes down Elm Hill (the cobbles were not bike friendly) and take a quick look at the cathedral before getting the train back to London.

Thanks to all for the excellent company for the weekend - we will definitely plan something similar next year so if anyone has ideas for suitable destinations please let us know.

Caroline F

Reports: Caroline, Steve

Friday 13th
From Norwich, a lovely 25 mile spin, breezing through quiet lanes and quaint villages, the sun setting into twilight, its last glows dramatising the landscape, patches of light mist, hung over the fields and brooks, as figures of trees darkened, and the first glimpses of bats flitting briefly around me. Against the dark blue sky shone the slither of a crescent moon. As I rode, into early Norfolk night, hiding its many mansions and castle ruins, Hammer house films came to mind, which always started at this time of night.

With my cycle lamp, a last check of the map, following several signs through sleepy villages, eventually sped downhill under the canopy of woods, into Sheringham.

With many variations on getting there, from Norwich station, a number of us still converged on the hostel within the same hour.

Settling in quickly, and after providing a carrier bag for Brenda's knee ice pack, We strolled to Dave and Caroline's recommended pub for supper, wine, and conviviality's.

Planned rides for the Saturday where, a shorter ride for a boat trip, viewing Seals in the Wash, a medium ride, and the longer ride, of 65 miles, (which I was asked if I'd like to lead). All to meet for lunch at 1:00pm, in Crey next the Sea, or do your own thing.

An after the meal, peruse over the map with Dave Alison, (who with Caroline had done previous detailed recce's, and planning for the weekend, and hats off to them for an excellent job, and making everyone feel we where in good hands). We picked out the suggested route, and sites for my longer ride the next day. All rides starting at 9:00am, it was going to be a squeeze to fit many sites in, achieve 65 miles, and meet the other rides for lunch, 40 miles by 1:00pm, so I was reluctant to commit to many promises of what we would, could see, until on the day.

Saturday 14th
I get up shower, pack. There were four riders for what had come to be termed the fast ride, Simon (Dave A's brother), Matt (Wheelers other regular rides leader), and Dave T Eventually we set off at 9:20 (20 minutes late), well I did! Trying to get the guys moving, I headed onto the road. They all set off following the other ride in the opposite direction. I carried on at a slow pace, for them to catch me up.

The route to the tea stop: West Runton, Aylmerton, East Beckham, Sustead, Hanworth, Aldborough, Erpingham, Aylsham.

Soon we turned off the A road, onto the lane through West Runton, home of Norfolk Shire Horse Centre, across a level crossing, and up Beacon hill, through woods, Dave T left behind some distance on the hill, Simon ahead, (he told me later he does 60 miles in the Chilterns every Saturday with the local triathlon team), Matt keeping up with heavily laden panniers, We waited at the next turn off to Sustead.

Then down hill through the other side of woods, leafy glades catching the morning sun. Into wide open fields, near Felbrigg Hall, (Jacobean built 1620), along tree lined lanes seldomely coming across cars. The weather was just right, we passed through the many villages, who's Architecture echoes, combinations of rustic charm, and the wealth of Norfolk's medieval past. Turnings, fingerposts, and slightly undulating terrain, we meandered our way swiftly, from village to village, with vista's stretching off for miles, distant steeples jutting through trees. Occasional respites at Junctions.

A quick circle of Aylsham centre, (a market town, two halls from 1600's) , established a suitable Tea stop, always good to hold off rebellion. We settled for a cuppa at a small garden table. Discussing what we where going to pass near, and what we could fit in, before dinner. Simon pointing out chirpily, 'we could have fitted more in without a Tea stop'.

After Tea route: Ingworth, Itteringham, Plumstead, Baconsthorpe, Holt, Letheringsett, Glandford, Cley next the Sea.

Off we set quickly downhill into the lanes Toward Blickling Hall, (Jacobean 17th century), turning off for Ingworth, skirting the River Bure, through Itteringham, passed Mannington Hall and gardens, (a moated 15th century house, with drawbridge), we decided to give a miss, and press on. We headed for Matlask, seeking a stained glass church, described as 'a little gem' on the map Dave T had. Near Matlask we took a slight detour toward a church in view, at Plumstead, lest it be the one we were looking for, it was locked.

Back on route there was a brief pause, chance to admire the colourful plumage of a pheasant, and take some thought, for its death in the road. A little later, we spotted The small church, in the grounds of yet another mansion Riding on the gravely driveway, Crows scattered from beneath a large old tree, like fluttering ash off burning paper, and a herd of Friesian cows looked bemused as we cycled to the small iron gate of the churchyard.

We walked up a paved stone path between two pillars, that once formed an arch of a bigger church. A partially ruined, bell tower to the left, and the entrance on right. Dave turned the iron ringed handle, to a hefty wooden door, which opened into, a short passage, leading into the serene, and austere interior of carved pews and a simple altar. The stained glass windows seemed well crafted, the light gave them an almost three dimensional relief. We studied closely the intricate etching for a few minutes. Patrons for the church, seemed to be of the family who'd resided at the mansion for centuries. There was a small, old, modest looking, upright piano, made of a plain stained beech, that reminded me of old school desks.

Stepping onto the path I looked again at A rusted vase, the shape of a small trophy, sat neatly on a grave, the only ornament amongst, a few weathered stones, and faded epitaphs, in a raised bank.

On the way back to the lane, I tried to gain the confidence of the nervous cows, inquisitive creatures that startle easy. Dave T taking several picks, and now happier he'd visited his first site, of the day.

We set off again, the guys conceding they didn't have to backtrack to visit Gresham village, Matt had explained to me earlier, in more historic detail, was the birthplace of a famous mayor of London.

We cruised on to Baconsthorpe, and went off route, along a well paved driveway, to view the castle there. A ruin, the entrance looking like the relics of an old house, in fact it was a 15th century fortified manor, thick set walls shrouded it, from a lake on its right, viewed through a crumbled gap Two gatehouses at the entrance, where a bridge crossed remains of a moat. The right hand gatehouse had what is termed a pepper pot tower, revealing, internal structures of chimneys weaved in its design, large birds nests were stacked in gaps, where beams once lay, the sound of a Bee hive buzzed in its loft.

I found a laminate copy of an O.S. Map for the area, lying on a cattle grid at the castle gate. Until then I'd managed with a road atlas page, folded to credit card size. Thus we traversed an off road section shown, leading us back to the lane. : )

We set off with speed for Holt, turned off at Letheringsett, to view the water mill, which was closed. Coming across a ford, and footbridge, in true Wheelers tradition myself and Dave T, went straight for the ford, not hesitating to change down gears, my wheels wedged, in the bed of cobbles, that was a collapsed wall, just before the other side, my feet were already wet by then. We continued, and followed the river Glaven (that's the bit left, that wasn't squishing around mine and Dave's shoes), through Glandford, to Cley next the Sea, where we met the rest of the crew for dinner.

A quick visit to the Beach, Dave and Matt decided they wanted to visit Holkham Hall with the other ride.

Myself and Simon, headed toward the next hostel, passing Cleys 18th century windmill. We saw a couple of cyclists, on a track along the salt marshes, at Blakney, which looked a promising change of scene. The first 1/2 a mile was ok, we reached a particularly marshy point, allowing walkers to pass, they assured us the path lead to Wells next the Sea, and no more muddy crossings. Dismounting and selectively treading across the sodden sandy mud, we continued with dry feet.

The path became grassy with numerous bumps, the deeper clefts, where horses hooves had dug in, a few miles on, it became a task and adventure to complete for the afternoon. We silently passed groups of twitchers, and picked clear routes, through marshy patches. A small black puppy fresh to the world, couldn't resist running alongside us, until sent back to a calling family. There was never a view of the shore we hoped for. Though Gorgeous red & orange plants (like blankets of heather), filled the green hues, of sedge grass expanse between, inlets and pools, to the distant sea.

Finally masts could be seen. Simon's comment 'well we've done it, just remember never to do it again'.

Passing through the harbour, a Tea at the café was first priority, before happening on Dave A an Dave T, panniers full of shopping for the evening meal, we headed for the hostel.

Worth another visit, so much to be seen.

Steve C

(Steve modestly omits to mention that on Sunday he then rode the 100+ mile journey back to Bethnal Green!)