'As for me, I am tormented with an everlasting itch for things remote. I love to sail forbidden seas, and land on barbarous coasts.' Moby Dick by Herman Melville.
I have been shamelessly using Herman Melville quotes without saying anything about this American author who wrote far more than Moby Dick. Some of his whaling knowledge surely comes from his - albeit brief - time on the whaler Acushnet in 1841 which sailed for the South Seas though Herman jumped ship at some point for the US navy. This information comes from a copy of Margaret Drabble's The Oxford Companion to English Literature.
A copy of Drabble to hand and open in the Ms is all the excuse I need to talk about the Bloomsbury based Charlotte Mew (1869-1928) who struggled financially until Thomas Hardy (of Far from the Madding Crowd fame) helped secure a pension for her. Her collection of poems entitled The Farmer's Bride helped her find recognition but like many female poets and authors (Christina Rossetti to name just one) she somehow faded from view but like Rossetti in the 1960s (?) she is experiencing a renaissance now.
I too landed on a barbarous coast, once. It was 2023 and I was bitten by a dog (again) and - temporarily at least - lost some of that itch for things remote.
Norfolk is flat so I was preparing some derogatory comment about the road name. However, I climbed it in first gear and it is such a wonderful name unspoilt by any additions such as Road, Avenue or Street though maybe they could have added Hill.
After some off-road muddy adventure I am surprised by a derelict church.
I have seen many muntjac deer and have been alarmed by how brazen they are. This one engaged in a lengthy staring match.
I had the option to skip ducking into Kings Lynne but was pleased I did.
I mentioned earlier how Brow of the Hill Hill might make a good road name. Someone else has my sense of language.
Then Sandringham looms. Leaving Sandringham a Sandringham estate vehicle pulls up and the driver asks if I have seen any sheep. I say no and he is keen to state that they aren't his sheep; King Charles' sheep would never misbehave.
Lavender cake at the Norfolk Lavender Centre.
Norfolk was home to Nelson.
More than the other counties on this tour mobile signal has been very patchy and in response establishments are even more explicit in providing their WiFi password, so much so it is almost part of the greeting such as "Hello, guest1234".
At one left turn I am suddenly faced with two gate houses either side of a magnificent but locked double gate. As I contemplate this turn of events the gates slowly and majestically open as they would in a James Bond film when the arch villain is enticing Bond in. I am duly enticed and make my way up the grand carriage drive and past an obelisk towards Holkham Hall.
Wells-next-the-Sea is my penultimate stop before my destination.
Today was 101km (63 miles) which was far enough. I arrived at my accommodation tired just as the rain started. I am staying at the Pilgrim Hostel and had received so much post-booking information about the Shrine Of Our Lady Of Walsingham that I worry about being turned away or being quizzed on my motives. As it turns out the young man at reception is more interested in bikes.
Today's route had an amount of elevation when added together and though the ride time of 6 hours looks reasonable the actual elapsed time taking in breaks and navigation stops was closer to 10 hours.
