Around Britain

I missed out on Around Britain last week as, on the intended day (Friday), there was steady rain throughout the morning which looked set for the day. In fact the afternoon turned out fine but by then it was too late. Today was a superb day, albeit cold, so I caught the bus back to Ipswich. I decided to get off at Tower Ramparts, another bus station a bit further north beyond the pedestrianised shopping centre in Butter Market and Tavern Street. I walked down through the town which was very busy with Christmas so near. I noticed that three medieval churches in or near the centre had all become the responsibility of Ipswich Historic Churches Trust. This body invited interest and contributions and said that the churches were available for educational and other purposes. I presume that these churches are redundant but are of such architectural and historic interest that they must be preserved. They looked closed but in a reasonable state of repair so far as I could tell. The transfer of responsibility for these buildings away from the Church of England does not of itself indicate the decline of religion. More likely it suggests demographic changes with the centre of Ipswich being given up to commerce and the population moving to the outskirts of the town.

I reached Cattle Market Bus Station and walked on down towards the River Orwell. At the bridge I turned onto the quay side. The first building was a burnt out warehouse where a tramp was found dead after the fire a few years ago. He must have been sleeping in the empty building and was unable to get out in time. Maybe he started the fire. I passed a few more large industrial buildings perhaps dating back to the time when the seed trade was important here. Then I reached the Old Custom House, an imposing building dating from 1845, and a smarter, partially developed area. There were restaurants and cafes and blocks of flats looking out over the wet dock where the restaurant ship, Il Punto, and countless yachts were moored. As I turned south along the Orwell I had to pass through a pedestrian tunnel in a bank of scaffolding alongside a building. As I made to enter a man emerged and told me there was no way through as the quay was sealed off to permit the unloading of a ship. I thanked him but said that I would go and take a look. In my experience there usually is a way through. I did have to turn off the quay and make my way over a car park. I came onto a building site but no one seemed interested in me and I soon emerged on a road near Holywells Park.

Just after I entered the park a small terrier came running in and yapped at me. It stood much too close to my ankles for comfort. I bent over, stared into the creature's eyes, and rebuked it mildly. It was entirely undeterred and soon afterwards was joined by its master who proceeded slowly with the help of a zimmer frame. I was on the point of mentioning the ferocity of his pet but didn't. The man didn't seem the type to respond well to my facetiousness. I saw from a notice board that the park had belonged to some relative of King Edward the Confessor in 1066. Much later it had come into the ownership of the brewer Cobbold. In the 1930s it was presented to the Borough by Lord Woodbridge. I followed a waterway and eventually came to a road. Holywells Park continued on the other side of the road but now it was not much more than a strip of land between housing estates. Later the land opened out. After a built up area I came to Orwell Country Park and a district called Gainsborough possibly after the artist who may have sketched here.

Soon I was walking alongside the river and approaching Orwell Bridge. I had a clear view and counted 17 supporting columns, mostly in pairs each of which I counted as one column, and with a wider span in the middle no doubt to clear the navigable channel in the interests of Ipswich Port just upstream. I could see cars approaching the bridge but they disappeared beneath the parapets on the structure on each side of the roadway. Only the commercials showed above this level so it appeared as if the bridge was just for commercial traffic. Many of the lorries were carrying containers and had names like China Shipping and Maersk to confirm their link with the container port at Felixstowe.

I was now walking alongside a beach where the path had suffered some erosion. At one point an oak had toppled over the edge taking with it a large dollop of earth which concealed the roots as the tree lay stricken with its top facing down the beach. Downstream on the other side I could see Woolverstone Marina crammed with yachts mostly, no doubt, in moorings for the winter. The Suffolk Coast and Heaths Path now turned inland through woodland and I soon crossed over the A14. Just before this bridge I went through a car park serving visitors to Orwell Country Park. This confirmed that the Park covered a large area.

As I crossed the A14 I saw the new housing on the area which used to be Ipswich Airport. In sharp contrast to the cramped conditions endured by these modern houses was a place called Halfway House just before I reached the A1189. This medium sized timbered house had a very large garden. I feared that it would be swept up in the next wave of housing as the estates reached out towards the A14. Soon afterwards I passed underneath the A14 and took the road to Nacton. On either side of this road, pigs dwelt in townships of miniature corrugated iron nissan huts. A cloud of seagulls and crows rose up from the sea of mud where the pigs were eating I know not what. Mostly they stood up to their knees in the mud but the front legs of one pig had completely sunk. The animal seemed quite unconcerned as it chewed away.

At Nacton a board at the bus stop by the War Memorial indicated that I had missed the second and last bus of the day by an hour and three quarters. I walked through the village towards the A1156. I passed a Post Office and General Store but did not stop to get any food. At the bus stop I found there were no less than four buses an hour between Felixstowe and Ipswich. Whilst I waited I listened to the commentary of the first test match in South Africa. England were winning and, if they do win, it will be their eighth win in a row, an all time record for the team. A bus soon arrived to take me to Tower Ramparts and I walked to Cattle Market to get the Woodbridge bus.

I was out walking for 3 hours 6 mins today.

I took the bus to Tower Ramparts Bus Station in Ipswich, walked down to Cattle Market Bus Station and caught the Felixstowe Bus. This dropped me at Nacton Crossroads and I walked back through the stretched out village to the War Memorial. On the way I stopped at the village shop to buy something to keep me going as I did not plan to take a proper lunch. The shop was modest, purveying tinned food, biscuits and confectionery. There were a few trays of fruit out the front and there may have been other products but it was not a shop with any pretensions. I bought a couple of chocolate bars.

As soon as I rejoined Suffolk Coast & Heath I came to a grand lodge behind a majestic brick wall and high gates. If the house matched its lodge it would be a fine one indeed. It turned out to be Orwell Park School and it was a very grand building. The path led me down to the north shore of the River Orwell almost opposite Pinmill. Broke Hall was nearby. This was built by Sir Richard Broke in the 16th century. The building is now divided up into flats. The garden was designed so that it subtly merged with the surrounding parkland.

It was cold but still another fine day. When was I last caught out in bad weather? The river shimmered in the sunlight. Voices carried to me from a boat half way across. I heard dogs barking. The sound was coming to me from the other side of the river. A hunting horn reached me over the water. Will that soon be a sound of the past?

I reached Levington Creek and had to turn inland on a muddy embankment. I walked towards Levington Church and then, at the head of the creek, turned back towards the river. The creek was waterless and I speculated about the shining mud. Would it support me as it supported all the birds that had walked on it? I wasn't going to put this to the test.

Now I could see a forest of masts. I was approaching Levington Marina. The path skirted round the back of it partly through a wood growing above it on a slope. There were a few people working on their boats but mostly it was quiet. I was now entering Trimley Marshes Nature Reserve. This had been set up to compensate for the loss of Fagbury Flats when Felixstowe Port was extended. The cranes of the biggest container port in Britain now dominated the outlook. The path took me behind the cranes and rose up for a while so that I could look down a roadway serving the port area. I crossed a few railway tracks also serving the port and proceeded along a road where containers were stacked high on either side. I entered an estate of poorish housing with neglected gardens and eventually reached Felixstowe station. There was an unmarked bus outside which was to take the train passengers as the train had been cancelled. The driver would not take money from anyone even though they had not bought tickets. At Ipswich Station I was lucky enough to transfer straight onto the Aldeburgh bus which dropped me outside the Woodbridge house.

Today's section took me 4 hours.

Caught bus to Ipswich Tower Ramparts, walked down to Cattle Market and caught 76 to Felixstowe Old Town. At Felixstowe I looked out for the railway station but the bus didn't pass it. It stopped a few times and almost everyone got out. It suddenly occurred to me that maybe the bus was now on its way back to Ipswich. I hurried forward and asked the driver whether he went to the sea front. He said no but indicated its direction. It was quite close and I reached the front at the top of some ornamental gardens with palm trees. A sign listed the various types of boat that could be seen from there including ferries, container ships, Thames barges (particularly when they had their annual race), tugs and yachts. I descended through the gardens to reach the promenade. It was mild and sunny and there were a few people about. All the beach huts were locked up although I did later see that one was in use.

I was on the look out for sustenance before leaving Felixstowe. At Mrs Simpson's Tea Shop I enjoyed a pot of tea and a baked potato with prawns. There were local newspapers and National Geographic Magazines laid out for customers. I read an article about the coming oil crisis. Apparently there are tar sands in Canada which hold oil reserves possibly equal to the remaining conventional oil stocks. It costs $10 a barrel to extract oil from these sands and it makes a terrible mess of the countryside. That potentially puts the US in a strong position if there's a problem with the usual sources.

I was forced inland for a short while into an area of substantial Victorian houses and finally emerged from Felixstowe on an asphalt topped sea wall faced with concrete blocks on the seaward side. I had seen a more genteel side to the town out of site of the port. There were hotels and restaurants and a pleasant walk along the front which made it seem quite a popular resort. To the south I could see The Naze with its tower in the distance. The sea wall passed between a golf course and the beach. There were a couple of Martello towers. A curved sand bar stretched out a short way from the shore. I imagined walking to the end of it and then having to race back its entire length to beat the incoming tide. Ahead Bawdsey Manor was prominent on the Bawdsey side of the river Deben. A couple of low sandy islands were visible just beyond the mouth of the Deben. Apparently navigation is not easy there as the current is strong.

I reached the point where the ferry picks up passengers for the crossing to Bawdsey. A notice said that the ferry operated between 10 am and 6 pm from April to September. In October it was a weekend service only closing at 5 pm. A taxi service operated so I wondered whether the ferry was available on request at other times. Apart from the Ferry Inn and another pub there were quite a few houses here. There was also a boat yard, a restaurant and the club house of Felixstowe Yacht Club.

I walked beside a muddy area littered with clapped out hulks, some well advanced in a process of disintegration. Rickety wooden walkways suspended on fragile posts connected them to the path and one or two in slightly better condition seemed to be occupied. I reached King's Fleet. Alongside this a track led to Falkenham and Suffolk Coast and Heath Path took that route. I kept to the embankment. I saw a field with about 500 geese – were they Brent geese? – I would look that up in my bird book. Several small birds with disproportionately long legs congregated on the muddy channels dividing the grassy covered salt marsh islands. When they took off at my approach, I could see the white underside of their outstretched wings. I ought to be able to identify them. I cannot remain so ignorant of birds when I am going to see so many up the East Anglian coast with Minsmere and other reserves. My binoculars helped my uneducated observations.

I passed Ramsholt Arms and Church on the opposite bank. After Falkenham Creek I had my one encounter of the day that went beyond an exchange of greetings. A couple came up to me on the embankment. The man was of strong build and aged about 60. His female companion was short and youngish and exuded the silence of one who cannot speak due to mental infirmity. The man suggested there wasn't much to see and I took that to mean birds. I mentioned the field of geese and described them. He thought they might be Brent geese but didn't seem that interested. I mentioned that I was trying to get from Felixstowe to Woodbridge before dusk. He said in that case he wouldn't detain me any longer. He did so with the air of one who had no wish to prolong the conversation and was pleased to find a reason for concluding it without rudeness. I went on my way.

Kirton Creek took me inland some distance from the river. I resumed the river walk on the far side of the creek in a marshy area. The path split and the riverside route was described on a notice as not being a through route due to coastal erosion. I didn't need to test this as I had already walked the path south from the pub at Waldringfield and knew it was partially washed away and submerged.

At this point I turned inland to Hemley. This had a church with a red brick tower and stone body. I passed Hemley Hall and Waldringfield Church. In Waldringfield I passed the garage with old fashioned petrol pumps and walked onto the Woodridge Road. As soon as I left Waldringfield the sinking sun suffused the bare twigs in the hedgerow with brilliant orange light. The short coppiced trees at the roadside cast shadows across a giant ploughed field sloping down towards the Deben. The sun was at the same level as the trees so the shadows were almost unlimited in length. As I crested a hill I could see Woodbridge and St Mary's Church in the distance. Would I make it back before nightfall? The sun disappeared but the underside of the clouds, first orange then red, illuminated the darkening landscape. I passed Martlesham Church, strangely far from Martlesham itself, and descended through the woods to the head of Martlesham Creek. I was going to beat the dark home by a short head. How pleasant to arrive home at the end of the day's stage without the need of public transport.

I was 4 hrs 10 mins on the route today.

I stepped out of the door of West Briarwood and immediately I was back en route. I returned to Martlesham Creek and took the very muddy path on top of the embankment running along the north side of the creek.

I had brought my binoculars with me so that I could pursue my observation of bird life. This is not proceeding well as I'm short-sighted. I try to remember the features of a bird and, when I return back home, I look it up in The Complete Guide to Bird Life in Britain and Europe. Usually my study of this book leaves me uncertain as to what I have seen. It shows males, females and juveniles sitting and flying at different times of the year when certain features change. One species could in fact appear as several depending on what type you see and when you see it. Nevertheless I can say that I definitely saw a curlew today. With its disproportionately long beak curving downwards at the end it's hard to mistake it. I may also have seen Oystercatchers and Redshanks. A notice board on the river bank stated that these do frequent the area but I cannot claim definite sightings. I shall endeavour to become more expert on the numerous opportunities that lie ahead.

After rounding Kyson's Point I reached the path used by the inhabitants of Woodbridge to walk their dogs and promenade along the riverside. The river presents a changing scene (partly because it's tidal) and on the far side is Sutton Hoo and the Bawdsey Peninsula. I reached the town's water front by way of Woodbridge Yacht Club, the Rowing Club and the Deben Cruising Club. By the yacht club there was a public lavatory of which I had been previously unaware. This means that Woodbridge has no less than four public lavatories. Such concern for its visitors is a very good indication of what Woodbridge is like. True there is no such amenity at the railway station but overall Woodbridge scores well. Later I passed Woodbridge Art Club which holds lace making classes.

After Deben Mill I started on the riverside path which leads to Wilford Bridge. This goes via a big boat repair yard. Indeed Woodbridge does seem to be something of a small boat centre. They seem to be everywhere, moored out on the river or hauled ashore for repair. Eversons had a list up in its window of boats for sale. Some larger boats moored by the river had washing hung out to dry so people must live on boats here.

By Wilford Bridge I crossed the Deben and at once came to a private road on the right that I had never used before. I turned into it hoping that I would not be challenged. I thought that, if I heard a car, I would step into the foliage by the road to avoid discovery. Such action would aggravate the trespass if noticed. Fortunately the road became a right of way before this dilemma needed to be resolved. Normally I would respect a sign saying Private but my curiosity got the better of me. I just wanted to see where the road led and it was also going in the very direction I needed to take down by the Deben. The footpath sign I reached indicated that I was now in the area which included Sutton Hoo. There are a number of burial mounds in the locality not just the two with burial ships. I found that I was on a circular walk which took me around the grounds and up to the main buildings. There was, to my surprise, a post box there, and a post office van came up to empty the box whilst I watched.

I had telephoned Polly a few minutes earlier so that she could fetch me. I came out onto the road which leads to the eastern tip of the Peninsula. After I had reached the roundabout on the A1162 I saw Polly who brought me home. I was out 2 hours 27 minutes today (excluding the road walk at the end which was irrelevant).

This was a dark and damp day. Polly set me down at Sutton Hoo and I set off on the Circular Walk through the burial ground. I reached a viewing platform which looked back in the direction I had come. A board showed how the landscape would have looked in 1600 AD, 800 AD and 2000 BC. The most recent picture showed that the burial mounds had almost been flattened by constant ploughing. In 800 AD the mounds were prominent and on one there was a gallows as it was a place of execution. How was that discovered? In 2000 BC there was an iron age settlement. The picture showed a circular hut and farmers dressed in animal skins.

The circular walk was taking me in a circle which didn't suit my purpose. The map indicated a path towards the Deben but I couldn't find it. I'm sure that a sign must have been removed. Having retraced my steps, I eventually found my way to a long straight road with a belt of trees on the far side. This was a public right of way. The road led back to the B1083, the main road of the Bawdsey peninsula. I came to a place where large bales of hay were being loaded onto a lorry. There were stacks of sawn timber nearby. At a junction of roads and tracks one lane led to Haddon Hall and was private. I headed for Methersgate. Helicoptors flew by quite low so they might have been using Woodbridge Airfield.

I attended a lunch at Methersgate last summer. The owners have now moved to a newly built house in Alderton. Methersgate is occupied by one of their daughters and her husband. A lane led down towards a quay. The woman I had sat next to at the lunch had said that she lived down on the quay. The lane became private and I was directed to proceed by a footpath. This brought me down to the Deben. There was a small white half-timbered house near the water's edge but no sign of life. The windows were dark and I could see no parked car or washing hung out to dry. Was the house occupied? Had I misunderstood the woman? Perhaps she wanted to confuse me just in case I had it in mind to visit. Near the house was a brick building almost entirely covered with ivy. The quay had notices up saying that it was a private landing place. There were some small boats pulled up on the shore. It seemed such a remote and unfrequented spot and yet Woodbridge was just upstream and there was Waldringfield across the water.

I followed a path along the river's edge. It passed through woods. The drizzle gradually turned heavier. The long green waxed jacket I had inherited from my father was darkened by all the water it had absorbed. Ramsholt, my original target, seemed too far now with all the time I had lost. Shortly before I reached Stonner Point I came to a track junction. A bridleway headed inland towards Sutton Hall. I took it and telephoned Polly to meet me at the pub in Sutton. I reached The Plough before she did and started walking north along the B1083 to meet her which I did shortly afterwards.

I was out 2 hours 30 minutes today.

Polly drove me to Sutton and dropped me by the private road to Sutton Hall. I walked back to the Deben opposite Waldringfield and turned downstream towards Stonner Point.

The tide was in and the water level was above the land protected by the embankment I was walking on. I passed Pettistree Hall and came to the sluice at Shottisham Creek. There was a house there and a few boats. The path at this point was churned into deep mud by horses. I thought the house was probably a holiday cottage and would normally be empty at this time of year. I came into the wood above Ramsholt Cliff. Now I could see the wood around Ramsholt. The church up on the hill has a Norman tower. I passed two men on the shore who seemed to be clearing reeds. A square shaped section of reeds stood like corn ready to be harvested. A much larger area of reeds had already been cleared. A small fire smoked nearby. After a brief encounter with an elderly couple I reached the Ramsholt Arms. A sign supplied information about the place. A ferry used to cross the Deben from here to Kirton Creek. Ramsholt (Anglo-Saxon for Raven's Wood) appeared in Domesday Book. The village had been in the valley between where I stood and the church. At one time there were about 250 inhabitants and there was a school with 50 children. Now there is just the pub, the church and a couple of houses on the road leading away from the river. This was called Dock Road which indicated the former nature of this spot.

The map showed an embankment on the Deben between Ramsholt and Bawdsey Quay. I walked from the jetty for a while along a path beaten through the reeds. It had no conviction and there was no public right of way indicated. I decided to take the road instead and walked away from the river. I passed Peyton Hall and an unclassified road unsuitable for motor traffic through a low lying area criss-crossed by artificial waterways. A helicopter was practising manoeuvres overhead. It dropped down quite close to the ground and then climbed away before repeating the process. It seemed to be using me as a target as it came down. There were few alternatives on this featureless landscape. I came to a small wood. A building at the edge of the wood was shown on the map. All I could find were four openings down to a subterranean building, each one covered by wire mesh hatches. I could see the concrete floor but there was nothing else visible. It seemed reasonably maintained so it could not have been an abandoned structure. Nearby there were several bee hives. At first I didn't recognise them as they were not the usual white colour. I stared at what seemed like piles of wooden crates in various faded colours. Then I noticed a few dozen lazy looking bees by a small opening. Today was the first relatively warm day after a fortnight's spell of wintry weather and it had provoked this response from the hive.

The road now deteriorated. The metalled surface had been broken up leaving debris and bare earth. I crossed a bridge and then a belt of woodland where the path divided. The right arm took me to the road. I went through a gate with a prominent notice announcing that this was private farmland and entry was prohibited. There had been no such notice at the other end when I joined the track after Peyton Hall.

The road led to Bawdsey Quay. I arrived at the same time as the bus which surprised me. When I checked the time table the service to Bawdsey seemed to be one bus a day. In fact it was every two hours. Polly turned up to fetch me just afterwards and had seen the bus. We took lunch in the Ramsholt Arms.

I was out 3 hrs 33 mins today.