North Norfolk
Braan, the intelligent collie, shares his top dog tales and tips
Andrew and I (Felicity) have taken our dog, Braan, on campervan trips all over the UK and Europe. We expect her to fit in with our plans and she does so patiently (most of the time). On this autumn tour, we were away for a month. As a reward for being dragged all over the place, I suggested that she should choose where we go for our last week. Not only was she enthusiastic about this, but she also said she’d like to write about the trip for Campervan, so long as I take lots of pictures of her to illustrate it! Her paws are a bit large for a keyboard, though, so I had to help with typing it up…
At last! With the freedom to choose a location, I’ve picked the Norfolk coast, which is one of the most dog-friendly places to visit in Britain.
I’m often left in our ’van while my humans go for refreshments (not fair!). Here I anticipate being allowed into most cafés and pubs, where kind people will give me water and feed me dog biscuits.
Being a country lass at heart, I hate walking alongside roads with traffic. Fortunately, I’ve got my mum well trained to look at Ordnance Survey maps when choosing a campsite, so that she picks ones with lots of public paths around them. I can’t read maps (I just follow my nose), but this time she’s come up trumps. Our first campsite at Manor Farm, just outside Cromer, has a footpath running through it. The site has an informal air and covers three fields with hedgerows and copses.
The sea is in sight so, with the prospect of a splash in the surf, I’m keen to set off. Leading the way over a railway bridge and across Howards Hill (where I have a bit of a run around), we head into Cromer. Looking down from the clifftop, the water shades from emerald near the beach to ultramarine in deeper water.
We’re delayed by lots of information boards (boring!) about the ‘Deep History Coast’ and the land that extended from here right across the North Sea thousands of years ago. The only bits I like are the pictures of wild animals that roamed Doggerland; giant deer and moose, bison and bears, mammoths and (maybe not so cool) sabre-toothed cats. The sea must be pretty powerful because it turned
Britain into an island and is still eating away at the land. The village of Shipden, which appeared in the Domesday Book, now lies underwater 500 yards beyond the pier. I think I’ll be careful when I go paddling. The pier feels strange as it’s suspended above the water.
While there, the heavens open in a torrential downpour. I don’t mind a bit of rain, but this stings my eyes and saturates my fur. We shelter under a canopy with gutters overflowing while mum uses her phone to find a dogfriendly pub. In no time we’re dripping on the wooden floor and steaming up the windows.
Woof!
The next day I insist that we have a more rural expedition. So we follow the footpath west out of the campsite and walk through pretty East Runton and over the common of Incleborough Hill to West Runton. That’s more like it! By the time we reach West Runton I’ve run around enough to be ready for a rest in the beach café. They are very proud here of the West Runton Mammoth, the oldest and largest fossilised mammoth ever found in the UK.
We continue on the Norfolk Coast Path, along the top of eroding, fossil-rich cliffs and past big sites of static caravans. Lots of wild flowers are still blooming, including toadflax, mallow and yarrow. At Beeston Bump, a hillock with a trig point, we meet a man who is spending all day walking up and down to get fit for an expedition. Poor man, he says this is the only place in Norfolk steep enough to train – he should come to Scotland, then I could show him some real hills.
Below the bump we enter Sheringham, a town packed with arcades, beach gear and tattoo shops. We buy lunch from East Beach Coffee and sit beside colourful beach huts. I only have a bag of its home-baked dog biscuits while my humans have cheese and ham crêpes followed by waffles and flat whites (greedy!). After playing on the beach all the way to West Runton, we take a different route back to the campsite, giving me a new range of exciting scents to sniff out.
Another day we return to Sheringham for a ride on a steam train. This is always good fun so long as the engine doesn’t let out one of those sharp whistles of steam from its wheels just as I’m walking past. The North Norfolk Railway runs to Holt, where we look around the restored station and museum.
Practising my most endearing look, I manage to win pats and treats from all the railway staff I meet. We break our return journey at Weybourne for walkies around a wooded part of Sheringham Park where I find lots of my favourite pine cones to pick up and play with.
Continuing further west, we drive along the A149 coast road. As I’ve already had my exercise, I don’t mind too much when I’m left in the campervan while my humans visit the Norfolk Wildlife Trust’s visitor centre at Cley Marshes. They tell me this is one of the best places in the country for migrant and overwintering birds, with many rarities spotted each year. But being rather grey outside, they are more interested in the two exhibitions, one by an impressionistic artist and the other, Bird Photographer of the Year winners.
We stop again at Wells-next-the-sea where the Whin Hill Norfolk Cider shop proves too tempting for mum and dad (we leave with a clinking bag of six big bottles). This picturesque village looks even lovelier as the sun breaks through clouds, illuminating buildings and sandbanks. The quayside channels turn from steel to sapphire, reflecting the blue sky opening above.
Walkie talkies
Having dilly-dallied, the reception at Deepdale Camping in Burnham Deepdale is closed by the time we arrive. However, they’ve left a sheet in the window directing us to our pitch. It’s on level, well-drained grass surrounded by young hedges. Pink clouds billow across the mauve sky and a skein of geese fly over as the sun sets behind trees. Again, it’s a relaxed place with (so I’m told) warm washrooms and even a dog shower. This I soon suss out and refuse to go near.
The campsite’s information centre gives us a copy of The Barking Bugle, a free annual publication written specifically for explorers like me and their companions to help them discover the best of Norfolk. Facilities on our doorstep include a café (that I’m allowed into) and a range of shops. The sea is on the other side of the road, sometimes so close it’s lapping the coastal path and, at other times, so far out across the salt marsh that I can barely see it.
As a treat, Mum has booked us all onto the Deepdale Dog Walk, which is part of the Norfolk Walking Festival.
It’s free for those staying on the campsite and is led by Georgie, who has brought her boyfriend’s staffy, Stanley. We’re also joined by a couple with two rescue dogs, collie Rocky and golden retriever, Gerry.
We two collies do what our breed does best and keep the group together as we navigate over Barrow Common and down across the site of Branodunum Roman fort to Brancaster Staithe. Here,
the humans decide to enjoy lunch in The Jolly Sailors. Fortunately, they’re very welcoming to four muddy dogs and we all find suitable spots under tables or in front of fireplaces.
In the afternoon, we catch the Coastliner bus to Holkham Hall, where there is a Palladian-style mansion, the family home of the Earls of Leicester. It’s surrounded by parkland, created in the mid 1700s by planting thousands of trees on previously windswept land. During October, there are weekly guided deer and wildlife walks that dogs may join, but we do our own thing using a leaflet of its waymarked walks.
The park is full of wonderful smells with rutting fallow deer giving off pheromones and grey squirrels darting across our path. I’m kept on the lead as we walk through woodland to The Coke Monument (1845), a tall pillar of almost 37m, with carvings celebrating the first earl’s agricultural improvements. The mature oaks and sweet chestnuts have dropped carpets of acorns and nuts for the deer to gorge on.
I’m intrigued when the fallow bucks throw back their heads to bellow and the does squeal in response.
As a treat, Mum has booked us all onto the Deepdale Dog Walk, which is part of the Norfolk Walking Festival
Barking mad
Burnham Deepdale is one of several Burnhams. Another day we walk east on the coastal path, along a raised embankment that separates the salt marsh from pasture fields. It’s a great viewpoint for watching the local birdlife, letting us spot marsh harrier, cattle egret, whooper swan, curlew, redshank, snipe, teal and pink-footed geese.
My humans miss a lot because their noses are too far off the ground, but I pick up a trail where an otter has crossed the bank.
We go as far as Burnham Overy Staithe, where we go into The Hero inn – named after Horatio Nelson – for coffee. Mum and dad seem to be addicted to this drink, but maybe they just need a rest mid-morning because I tire them out so. Nearby Burnham Market is an attractive market town with numerous independent shops selling clothes, gifts and food.
We’re attracted to the Tuscan Farm Shop, which sells wine, olive oil and other produce from a farm in Tuscany (where else?). In the café, I’m petted by a couple who have left their own dog at home. My humans pretend they are in Italy with a mixed platter of pecorino cheeses and cured meats accompanied by red wine. No wonder we need to catch the bus back!
Moving on, we drive to the west-facing Norfolk coast and savour the sight of the sun setting over the sea from Heacham’s south beach. In the morning, we drive to nearby Hunstanton and park on Cliff Parade just as the rising sun strikes the Old Hunstanton Lighthouse. As the tide retreats, we walk along the beach below the two-tone chalk cliffs – white on top and red underneath. It’s a super place to play, with barnacle-covered mushrooms of bedrock sticking out of the sand like stepping stones. The cliffs angle down to a higgle-piggle of beach huts in the sand dunes at Old Hunstanton, where we go into the Old Town Beach Café for yet another coffee.
Before leaving Norfolk, I indulge my humans with a trip to King’s Lynn. In return, they make our visit appealing to me by turning it into a walk around historic buildings and the waterfront, where ships sailed down the Ouse into
The Wash. The town was the first British port to join the Hanseatic League and several buildings date from the fourteenth century when merchants grew rich from trade with northern Europe. There are two impressive churches, St Nicholas’ and St Margaret’s (also known as King’s Lynn Minster). The ancient town hall dazzles in late afternoon sunshine, its front a chequerboard design made from pale limestone and dark-knapped flint.
Back in the ‘van, we agree that we’ve all enjoyed the relaxing Norfolk coast. By focusing on what suits me, we’ve spent less time driving around the sights and have all benefited from more exercise. What’s more, I’ve been spoilt rotten in all the pubs and cafés we’ve visited.