We pack our rucksacks and bring them
over to the pub with us for breakfast so as to ensure that we’re ready for the
7:30 pick up time. As with yesterday evening, Ace Cabs arrive slightly early,
so we’re back at Gedney Drove at 7:40 and under way a couple of minutes later.
This morning’s medical report again concerns Gary – surprise, surprise. Whilst
relatively refreshed, he’s developed a cramping knee overnight and also, which
could be connected, a slight lower back pain. He’s going to see how things go during
the first five miles of today’s walk (which will bring us back to Sutton
Bridge) and then decide whether to continue. Neither the medical issue, nor
another very warm day, seems to affect our pace. During the first hour – which
involves a short piece of road action before crossing a field to reach the west
bank of the River Nene and the west lighthouse – we manage a very creditable
3.2 miles. We continue south alongside the river until we reach what our cab
driver had earlier described as “the port” just outside Sutton Bridge. We’d
assumed that this would prove to be something of a misnomer and/or reflect past
glories of the town, but it looks as though it’s a relatively modern and
extensive facility. There are no vessels in evidence, but there is a bit of
activity onshore alongside what seem to be operational warehouses and gantry
cranes. By now, Gary feels his pace to be dropping and the walk from Gedney
hasn’t eased his knee or back. He decides it would be better to pull up at
Sutton Bridge – which has a half hourly bus service to King’s Lynn – rather
than to risk any problems during the following 14 miles from which there are no
equally convenient bale outs. The bus stop for the King’s Lynn service isn’t
immediately apparent but, following John and Mike’s departure, becomes so when
a bus approaches and helpfully waits until Gary gets to it and climbs aboard.
In the meantime, after
leaving Gary searching for the bus stop, Mike and John set off for West Lynn,
crossing the bridge over the Nene Outfall Cut and making their way northwards
back along the east side of the Cut towards the sea. They look back over their
shoulders at each bus engine-like sound hoping to catch sight of Gary’s bus
crossing the bridge, but to no avail. They see the port from the opposite side
of the water, but the brief flurry of activity when we passed through earlier
has subsided. The question as to how ships could turn round in such a narrow
stretch of water is answered as a turning point is spotted for ships to nose
into and swing their sterns round. A piece of good fortune occurs when Mike
spots a 50p piece on the road which
he promptly trousers. An inconclusive discussion ensues as to the amount of
money that would not be trousered, but taken to the police station. It is
agreed that 50p would be snaffled, but that say £1,000 would be handed in. So
quite a wide corridor of uncertainty. Unlike the 75p saving on the wine
yesterday evening, Mike does not add the 50p to the team reconciliation. It takes an hour on the
road to reach the east lighthouse which, perhaps not surprisingly, is opposite
the west lighthouse passed two hours earlier. The lighthouses were built to
enable ships to enter the Cut at high tide in the dark. Otherwise they might
have inadvertently parked in a field. Apparently, the east lighthouse is where
Peter Scott started his career as a naturalist.
On turning eastward, there ensues a 9 mile walk along yet another grass
embankment. Progress is fast but somewhat tiring as the grass, although cut, is
not very short and the cuttings are more like hay. The team’s perception of
distance is shown to be seriously over optimistic. A headland point is
variously estimated to be half a mile or three-quarters of a mile away. In fact
it proves to be one and a half miles distant. Excitement is provided by the
logger at one stage indicating that we have climbed 8,000 feet, which even John
concedes is likely to be wrong. It subsequently revises this to 124 feet, which
Mike still thinks is an exaggeration.
Eventually the embankment starts to swing southwards. The walking
becomes much easier after passing through a gate as there are now cattle and
sheep which have done a much better job of controlling the grass than the mowers.
The lambs seem unconcerned by the heat in spite of their woolly overcoats. They
look ready for the pot. We reach the Lynn Channel which is the route to King’s
Lynn, being the Great Ouse Outfall. Then the port of King’s Lynn appears. There
are no ships apparent, but the quayside is busy with varied sounds of cranes
and machinery evident. The
pace has been blistering with one hour recorded at 3.4 mph, and we reach the Lynn
Ferry at 1:45 having walked 18.6 miles in 6 hours including the time spent
trying to locate Gary’s bus stop. We find that we are in time for the late
running 1:40 ferry, and cross the river. It is very low tide, so the ferry is
guided and assisted to the jetty by a ferry man standing in the river in his
waders. He is using what appears from a distance to be a specialist piece of
equipment to judge the depth, but which turns out to be an old broom. We walk
up the jetty into the town to a delightful square. John recognises the Duke’s
Head where he used to stay 40 years ago when working in King’s Lynn and where
the first signs of appendicitis occurred. The offending article was removed
later the same day in the local hospital. The area becomes less prosperous as
we walk to the train station for a lager/cider in the buffet before boarding
the train home an hour ahead of schedule.
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