To the coast. Aldeburgh and beyond

Today we drove to the East coast to a small village called Aldeburgh. Pronounced "all-burr". I sure can't pronounce any of the names here. Wymondham is simply, "win -dumm". We had lunch in Diss (diss!) which I can pronounce correctly. But you ought to hear me butcher "Norwich" and "Norfolk".



My mom asked me to post a photo of myself in this blog. Bob took this a few days ago... note the cool sign over my left shoulder. Every town seems to have a pretty sign like this and if I'd taken a photo of each we'd still be only 10 miles from Heathrow. This sign is in Castle Acre, about 4 miles north of Swaffham and the home of a castle ruin built in 1066 for Bill the Conqueror.



In Diss we stopped for lunch at a CAMRA recommended pub called the Cock Inn. (CAMRA is the British group CAMpain for Real Ale, formed to save small pubs and advocate for small local breweries). Bob drove right to the pub even though he’d never been there. He says he has a nose for a pub.
He got the Ploughman’s lunch (with pickled onion pictured above) and I had a goat cheese and onion tart. It was okay, but for 10 pounds a bit steep. That's 10 British pounds, not units of weight I'm gaining.



This harbor photo in Aldeburgh (above) reminds me of the harbor at Hampton Beach, NH where my mother's parents (Clyde and Mary Chapman) had a house. I have some happy memories of summer days on the beach in Hampton. This photo makes me want to visit Ma Junkins candy shop for salt water taffy and rock candy.

Along this seacoast are 150 square miles of protected marshes, rivers and dunes, called "The Broads". The reed beds and wetlands formed after peat was harvested from the area, then the sea level rose over a couple hundred years and formed the current canals and riverways. This area enjoys the same protection as a national park in England. Not a strip mall, McD's or neon sign within miles.

Footpaths wind for miles and miles. Below are a few favorites I explored:




The footpath above passes a ruin on one side and the cliffs of the North Sea on the other.



The above footpath winds around behind the Wentworth hotel and restaurant, then climbs a hillside to the church.




Can you read the saying on the three windows above? Hint: the first window reads, "I saw". Once you figure out the sayings I bet you'll have a song stuck in your head as I did!



At 7:45 a.m. I watched this fishing boat approach the beach. This is not a sandy beach, rather it's made of tiny, slippery non-compacting rocks called "shingle". One step forward and a half step back.

When this boat was about 100 yards off the shore I heard a loud engine suddenly roar to life. The boat reached the water's edge and two fishermen jumped out and hooked a cable onto the front. Without ever stopping, the boat rolled smoothly up the beach over the blue rollers lying on the shingle. When to boat reached the fishing shack the winch engine stopped and they unloaded the morning's catch right at the retail shack. The sign on the shack read, "Anything fresher is still swimming."



Words of wisdom, beware the loose shingle.



Many driveways and blind intersections have mirrors like this. (I don't want any comments about the poor helpless blind intersections from you, Will). The drivers here simply haul ass on narrow and terrifyingly windy roads. Mirrors are yet another tool allowing drivers to not slow down.




I like the nautical themes throughout Aldeburgh. This simple barricade is artwork. The spiders seem to like it too (see upper left).

We had dinner at Aldeburgh's Cross Keys pub. It had average food but a great interior with low, dark beamed ceilings. The eating area is a few feet below the street level, making me wonder what happens when the sea floods the town. Here's one answer in the photo below:



The board slides into the grooves you can see on each side of the door. Doorways all along the street have these grooves and boards handy. The residents sandbag around the boards and keep the sea out of their living room. Scary!

The town is dead quiet this time of year, which suits me fine. Tonight the pub we’re staying in, Mill End, is the gathering place for the local RNLI crew (Royal National Lifeboat Institution). I would love to know what they're laughing about but can't understand a word of it. "Are they speaking English?", I ask Bob. He gives me a pained look and laughs at another comment from the bar. I need English lessons.



The lifeboat association (RNLI) has at least 200 locations around the coast of England. Each is supported 100 percent by donations. I was stunned to learn the Coast Guard will dispatch the lifeboat for a rescue, but the governement does not fund any operations, maintenance or equipment. Evidently they do a fine job, from reading a notebook containing more than 40 years of successful rescues.



My dad would love to see an old steam engine show here. Evidently old traction engines are everywhere and local enthusiasts have shows all summer and fall. Evidently I've barely missed the show in the sign above because I can smell lingering coal smoke in the air.

Tomorrow, up the coast to Southwold.