Kings Lynn to Lowestoft, Wednesday 23rd

Castle Acre ... is for lovers
Naturally, on this leg of the journey, I had to call in at Castle Acre.  There's plenty to say about this little Norfolk village, but I don't suppose I could say much about its castle, its Norman bailey gate, its priory, its wool church and so on that you couldn't read about in any guide book.  In fact, I'd probably have to look most of it up in a guide book anyway.  But there is one thing those sources might miss out, even if they are particularly good on the extensive ruins of the castle.  It's that little window you can just make out in the small central lump of stonework on the skyline here.  Everybody calls this 'Dandy's Hole' for no reason I have ever been able to find out.  It is the one bit of the ruin that still has roof.  It's a passage about three or four yards long, running at an angle to the central castle keep and the curtain wall.  So it offers shelter not only from the elements, but also all but the most persistent of prying eyes.  This has made it a favourite haunt for generations of village courting couples.

Dandy's Hole; passage way in central bit of wall on skyline.

It seems the ruins still attract lovers, though it looks like the village boys will have no luck with these two.  Let's wish Izzie and Emily a long and happy relationship.
















Crossing Norfolk
Norfolk has no shortage of curious and interesting places I might have visited, but the day was already getting on.  I would need to get moving if I wanted to get to Lowestoft before dusk.  And besides, Norfolk was probably designed by some superior power to be a nice place for the touring motorcyclist to ride through; gently undulating roads, tolerably well surfaced, weaving through pleasant countryside and pretty towns and villages.  This being late Autumn, one just has to watch out for 'The Campaign.'  Farmers are hauling their sugar beet to the factories on tractors and trailers that come straight off the muddy fields.  There is apparently no time for the niceties of wheel cleaning.  Perhaps the farmers just like to share some of the land they own with the general public.  Whatever, the two-wheeler has to keep a sharp lookout for particularly slippery lumps of Norfolk on the carriageway.

Getting my kicks on route [A10]66
(Alternative caption: "Not Hastings?")










Ghost airfield
However, I was inspired to stop at one place by an article in this morning's Eastern Daily Press, an organ I now hold in the highest esteem.  It was about the R34, an airship that made a record-breaking voyage to America and back, starting and finishing at its home base of Pulham airfield.  A quick Google identified the airbase as being at Pulham St Mary, a few miles South of Norwich.  (Though, as is often the case with these little airfields, it's actually closer to the neighbouring village of Rushton.)  The Wikipedia article mentioned that the the airfield had later been used for aircraft 'disposal' by the RAF.  That means ripping out the re-usable bits and burning the rest, including the radium-painted dials on the instruments!  Ominously, the article mentions that signs of the consequent contamination of the area can still be seen.  Heavens! Whithered wheat? Glowing mangolds?  I had to see.

In fact, there's very little to see.  The monster hangars have long gone.  As far as my map reading can tell, part of the airfield - maybe the contaminated part - was probably under this scrap yard.

However, at the end of a lane that probably led to the airfield - it is actually called 'Airfield Lane,' which is a bit of a giveaway - I came across this massive gatepost made of what looks suspiciously like military grade concrete.














Lowestoft.  Aw.  Is it all over so soon?
I was pleased to arrive in Lowestoft with a couple of hours of daylight left.  Bro-in-law Nigel told me yesterday that there is a plaque somewhere here pointing out that this was Britain's most easterly point.  There was also a notorious bronze statue of a fisherman that I wanted to find.  Not much luck on either count!

Stop! Only the sea beyond this town.

















The fisherman I've seen before some years ago in the shopping centre.  When you looked at the statue, you got the vague sense that there was something not quite right about it.  The story goes - and I don't know if this is urban myth or not, but it's a good story - that the fisherman had originally been looking out to see with an arm held out towards the far fishy horizon.  The town's councilors thought this not quite right; he shouldn't be standing there with his back to the people.  So they arranged for his head to be sawn off, turned and welded back on.

I asked a local angler where I could find him.  He said the statue had been relocated and directed me to a bronze of about the same size, but most definitely of a lifeboatman, not of a fisherman, with a head most definitely on the right way round.  I could see no sign of the fisherman on a quick glance in the shopping centre so gave up on that one and went to find the plaque (another plaque!) that I could deem to be the absolute end of my journey.

Following the same angler's now suspect directions, I threaded my way through an industrial estate, past carpet warehouses, gas holders and a wind turbine, and eventually found Ness Point.  There is a peculiar twenty-foot concrete structure there that looks to be either not quite finished or starting to fall apart.  In front of it, there's a pedestal bearing ... nothing!  Somebody had nicked the plaque, presumably to sell for scrap.

A more difficult-to-steal compass rose set in the concrete quay confirmed that I was indeed at the most easterly point.
















Then I got a phone call.  More homework to do.  Better get going then.
I am staying tonight in Norwich with sister Gwynyth - ace chef, so that's dinner sorted - before the last long leg home tomorrow.
Just to finish off on a high, the road back to Norwich took me along the Acle straight, a ten-mile perfectly straight road across the flat Broadland, straight into a glorious sunset of the type which Norfolk somehow seems to routinely produce.

Afterthoughts
I could have cheerfully stopped at so many more places on the way.  Everywhere I looked I saw something interesting, beautiful, humourous or astonishing.  As I observed to David, the EDP journalist, when I get too old and unstable for a motorcycle, I could do a similarly blog-worthy journey on my mobility scooter between Poole and Bournemouth.  And so, I reckon, could anybody else.  Just go do it, I say.

The knack, though, is not to go looking for things that measure up to any preconceived notion of how things should be interesting, beautiful, funny, etc.  Yes, I admit I have adopted a somewhat mocking tone here from time to time, but I'm only poking fun at bad people who do stupid things like nick plaques or stick chewing gum cigarettes on the lips of worthies' bronzes, and at the officials that we pay to clean statues and replace plaques (with a material that has no scrap value, perhaps) but who plainly don't.  Behind that, I really do appreciate the weathered grandeur of Victorian seaside resorts like Aberystwyth and the stark 'brutalist' design of Ness Point.  I accept that some meals will be haute cuisine and some will be street grub.  Not every interesting building looks as if it was designed by a rich bloke in the eighteenth century; some are practical, modern working and living spaces.  Scap yards and tin cans in hedges have colour, shape and form just as do magnificent vistas.  I'm not saying that they are all equally 'good' - that's down to your own particular set of aesthetic values - but rather that it is possible to appreciate all of them on their own terms even if you would rather eat, live in or hang a picture of one on your wall rather than the other.  With the mind adjusted to that setting, you can take in so much that might otherwise be passed by as humdrum routine.

OK.  Rant ends.  Thanks for reading and for all your amazingly generous contributions to my justgiving site.  (If you haven't found your way there, the URL is http://www.justgiving.com/John-Seaman.)

And that nice David and his photographer friend Matthew put some words and pictures about me and this ride on the EDP's website:
http://www.edp24.co.uk/news/biker_completes_coast_to_coast_challenge_1_1134877
so you don't have to go all the way to Norfolk to buy a copy on Thursday, 24th November.

All the best

John