{"id":1680,"date":"2019-08-27T15:30:52","date_gmt":"2019-08-27T15:30:52","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/randomthoughtsltd.com\/?page_id=1680"},"modified":"2020-09-13T15:40:13","modified_gmt":"2020-09-13T15:40:13","slug":"walking-through-waterland","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/randomthoughtsltd.com\/?page_id=1680","title":{"rendered":"Walking Through Waterland"},"content":{"rendered":"\n<h4 class=\"wp-block-heading\"><strong>The Fen Rivers Way &#8211; October\n2016<\/strong><\/h4>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">The Fen Rivers Way\nfollows the Cam and then the Great Ouse for fifty miles from Cambridge to\nKing\u2019s Lynn on the Norfolk Coast, an ancient Hanseatic port. You can walk on\neither the west or east bank much of the way; the decision largely turns on the\nlocation of pubs enroute. The path parallels a railway,\ntoo, all the way, which offers convenient shuttling opportunities. And it\u2019s FLAT.\nAt pensioners\u2019 pace, including sightseeing, it took five days.<br><\/p>\n\n\n\n<figure class=\"wp-block-image\"><img decoding=\"async\" src=\"https:\/\/randomthoughtsltd.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/08\/Waterland-1-map-502x630.png\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-1687\"\/><\/figure>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">It was the start of term, with anxious parents hovering nearby, so B&amp;B space was scarce in Cambridge. Coming up from London we &#8211; Chuck,  Judith and her sister Carolyn &#8211; dropped our backpacks at an unmodernised terrace house owned by a friendly, unmodernised retired couple. Carolyn\u2019s room had been their son\u2019s bedroom and it was still decorated with Magic Roundabout wallpaper.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">We set out on an\nafternoon stroll to Waterbeach, six miles down the track. That village has no\naccommodation, but the train would take us back to our Cambridge digs. Walking\nthrough quiet roads of Victorian houses and workers\u2019 cottages, we reached the\nriverside at Midsummer Common, where the only hazards were bicycles and cows\nand swans.<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">We chose the east bank path. Scullers and \u201ceights\u201d glided through the water, their coaches cycling alongside, shouting vocal encouragement. The path strayed from the riverside to fetch up for lunch at the <em>Ancient Shepherd<\/em> pub in Fen Ditton. Further along were Horningsea and Waterbeach, two of the several village names recalling that this endless, level farmland that grows most of our vegetables was until the 17<sup>th<\/sup> century a vast inland estuary of reedbed and marsh which could be traversed only by small boat. In Horningsea, a red telephone kiosk acts as a local unattended library or book exchange. At Clayhithe, we passed a fine gabled Dutch house, once the home of the conservators who by act of parliament have controlled the river since 1702. Beyond, the villages yield to an empty landscape, but we had reached the end of today\u2019s journey. The ticket machine at the Waterbeach rail station was not working so we had a free ride back to Cambridge and met with friends for dinner under the tented ceiling of a Moroccan restaurant called <em>Bedouin<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Next morning we\ntook the train back to Waterbeach. Martin met us there to transport our\nbackpacks to his narrowboat moored in the centre of Ely, twelve miles downriver.\nEast bank or west bank? The east path offered a pub with an intriguing name: <em>Five Miles from Anywhere \u2013 No Hurry<\/em>.&nbsp; But it was too near for a lunch stop, so we opted\nfor packed lunches and set off along the west bank.<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">We walked on top\nof formidable flood banks. A little elevation goes a long way\nin a flat land. You can\u2019t see over these banks if you travel by road or on the\nriver, so this is much the best way to experience the 360-degree landscape vistas.\nAs the huge skies of the East Anglian fens opened up around us the path clung close to the river. Tilled soil was rich\nand black. The flood plain is well below sea level \u2013 and sinking. Borderless\nfields of corn,\ncelery and leeks coloured the\nfields in muted shades of grey-green. The path may not be well-used but it is\nwell-grazed most of the way to the sea; only occasionally did we have to wade\nthrough brambles and nettles. <\/p>\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">The scenery was\nvast and featureless, but not without interest. A dredger patrolled the river\u2019s\nedge, nibbling on the floating weed with a metal scoop. Yellow throw-rugs of water-lilies\nswayed in the river, willows trembled on the horizon and cattle munched in the\nwater meadows. There was the occasional dog-walker, but mostly our companions\nwere herons, grebes, coots, swans, martins and a charm of goldfinches. The sun shone, but we were walking into a strong wind flowing in across\nthe North Sea and we kept our anoraks buttoned up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Suddenly, five miles from Ely, the gothic cathedral\nwith its distinctive octagonal \u2018lantern\u2019 tower appeared around a bend in the\nriver. Some neighbouring industrial buildings hardly detracted from the drama\nthis view must have\ncommanded in medieval times. <\/p>\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">A\ncouple of miles further the Cam merges into the Great\nOuse. &nbsp;We could see only a railway bridge\nin the distance, so we were relieved to discover a small arched footbridge.<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Martin met us at his\nnarrowboat, <em>Puzzle. <\/em>A year ago it was\njust shell, but it <\/p>\n\n\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">was fitted out to a very high\nstandard at the tiny boatyard where it\u2019s now moored. There was radiator\nheating, running hot water, a shower, comfortable beds, even an espresso\nmachine that we were unable to master. And modern marine toilets are a great\nadvance on the primitive 1930s mechanism we had on the <em>Amaryllis<\/em>, the wooden yacht we used to sail.<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Ely sits on a mound and was once\nknown as Eel Island, but the last eel-catcher hung up his traps recently. Now\nit\u2019s a delightful, tidy little town clustered around the ancient cathedral, a generous\ngreen parkland populated by rabbits and horses, and a pretty waterfront. It was\nquiz night at the recommended pub, the <em>Prince\nAlbert<\/em>, so they picked up the phone and booked us into the <em>Royal Standard <\/em>for our steakand fish-and-chips.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">The\nnext day\u2019s journey, to Littleport, was only six miles. Martin transported <\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">our\nbackpacks on to the next B&amp;B, refusing to take any payment, and we spent\nthe morning exploring Ely Cathedral.<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">The\npresent building was erected almost a thousand years ago. This massive gothic stone\nstructure has foundations only five feet deep and sit on a floating plate of\nsandstone. The builders weren\u2019t to know that, but had they dug much deeper they\nwould have broken through to the mud and the cathedral could not have been\nbuilt. The original tower collapsed in 1322, fortunately at a rare moment when\nthe monks were not at prayer.&nbsp; They\nreplaced it with an octagonal tower capped by a lantern. <\/p>\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Its wooden frame could not be replicated today because\nthere are no longer oaks tall enough. It\u2019s clad with a lead roof, and whenever\nit leaked more lead was added, until it became too heavy and had to be recovered\ncenturies later. Access to the commanding views offered from the roof is by a\nvery narrow spiral staircase \u2013 most modern people couldn\u2019t fit.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\n<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">A few drops of\nrain sprinkled us as we set off. This inclemency soon evaporated but so did the\nsun. The river runs monotonously straight for three miles of\nthe route, but we were diverted by a few lingering views back to the cathedral,\na glittering kingfisher,\nswooping skeins of geese, and outposts of patient fishermen. One of these\nproudly demonstrated his ingenious self-designed seat-cum-equipment store,\nwhich he trundled along on wheels.<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Littleport is a\nlengthy sprawl of houses, and the path led through back gardens to the train\nstation, where we found the Gatehouse B&amp;B close by, and a warm welcome from\nthe proprietress, Edna, with tea and home-made muffins.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">The only drawback\nwas that the <em>Swan on the River<\/em> pub (inexplicably\ntransmogrified from the <em>Black Horse<\/em>\nnoted in our guidebook) was a mile back down the track. So the delightful Edna\ndrove us there through the meandering village. After dinner we needed our\ntorches to retrace our steps through the back gardens. Edna\u2019s B&amp;B was\nperfection, with a large selection of different teas, and home-made jams at\nbreakfast, plus dainty home-made shortbreads which we promptly popped into our\npockets.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">We organised a\ntaxi to send the backpacks on to Downham Market while we embarked on another 12\nmile jaunt. Once again, the placement of the pub, at the ten-mile mark, wasn\u2019t\nideal. That section, indeed, is called the Ten Mile Bank, much of it a straight\nstretch on a dyke along a busy road, with open trucks roaring by and spilling\npotatoes onto the verge. We plodded on through a dull morning across bleak\nfarmland. Occasionally a ridgetop poked out over the opposite bank, with no track\napparent leading to the isolated house.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">At a bridge\ncrossing a local was looking for seals, which he said often basked on the\nconcrete. Not today. He informed us that if all the flood barriers were opened\nat once the river from Cambridge to the sea would empty in forty minutes. This wild estuary was tamed by a Dutch engineer, Cornelius Vermudyen,\nwho built the first sluice and began draining and reclaiming the marshes in 1651.\nThese works aroused much local opposition, because the fenmen feared it\nthreatened their livelihood, eel-fishing. &nbsp;This led to insurrection and public hangings. There is a fine balance to be struck between\nflooding and maintaining navigability of the rivers all the way to Cambridge. Vermudyen\u2019s\nnew sluice controlled the rivers, but as they now flowed more slowly they\ndropped silt, clogging the channel and increasing flood risk.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">As mid-day came\nand went we remarked that remote pubs often cease serving food at two pm. As the\nyoungest of the party, Carolyn was d<ins>i<\/ins>spatched\nloping on ahead as an advance messenger to the <em>Jenyns Arms.<\/em> Providential. She arrived a few minutes before two and\nmanaged to get in an order for hot soup, which appeared when we arrived a\nquarter of an hour later. We sat out by the river in fitful sunshine with a\nview of the Denver Sluice. This is a where Vermudyen first began to drain the\nfens. Today it is a series of massive river gates where the Great Ouse engages with\ncolossal drainage channels. The people who control it have a 24\/7\nresponsibility and live in a cottage right by the works. <\/p>\n\n\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">The pub ran to a strict schedule and they turfed us out on the stroke of\nthree.&nbsp; The river was now tidal, and mud\nbanks appeared. After passing a huge flour mill we entered Downham Market,\nwhich has a spartan and faintly down-at-heel air. There is a clocktower to regard, but not much else. On\nRailway Road we found Dial House, an old building that was formerly a private\nschool. We ate that night in the cosy snuggery of the saloon bar in the old-fashioned\nCastle Hotel at the top of the village. We never saw our landlady, but she\nprides herself on providing a breakfast based on a bountiful supply of fresh\nfruit salad. Her husband, Robert, hovered over us, challenging us to identify\nthem all.&nbsp; There were about twenty\ndifferent fruits, all harvested from the local Morrisons. <\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">The final stage to\nKings Lynn was another twelve miles. This time we left the bags behind at Dial\nHouse. The river straightened again as it rushed towards the sea. We found a\nroofless, ruined church at Wiggenhall St Peter which is kept tidied up by local\nresidents. This is one of the small villages with long names \u2013 Wiggenhall\nSt Mary Magdalen and Wiggenhall St Germans are two others \u2013 tucked under the\nriverbank. In the latter there\nwas a pub situated around&nbsp; the halfway\nmark, the <em>Crown and Anchor.<\/em> It was\nintensely local, a few idlers at the bar, a shambling fellow behind it who\nbrought us mountainous, cheap platters of rubber chicken, leathery liver-and-bacon\nand fat greasy chips. Only Carolyn, who walks so fast, cleared her plate.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">On the skyline factory buildings and curling smoke\nfrom a power station announced the imminence of Kings Lynn. Crossing a sluice\ngate, a stentorian command made us jump. It was a loudspeaker, triggered\nautomatically, warning us to take care as we crossed. (But we were already\nacross; perhaps most of the foot traffic goes the other way?) We had little\ntime to investigate Kings Lynn, which, judging from the shopping centres, is a\nprosperous market town. Instead of waiting around for a train our idea was to take\na taxi back to Downham Market.\nBut it was Saturday and there were none to be had. So we took the train, hopping\noff at Downham Market to pick up our backpacks from Robert at Dial House, and then\nback to the station caf\u00e9 for a leisurely cup or two of tea. A clever dodge, we\nthought, but the ticket office was shuttered and so was the caf\u00e9 and there was\nno handy pub. No tea. No beer. But lots of time to catch up on the crossword\nwhile waiting for the next train back to London.<\/p>\n\n\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>The Fen Rivers Way &#8211; October 2016 The Fen Rivers Way follows the Cam and then the Great Ouse for fifty miles from Cambridge to King\u2019s Lynn on the Norfolk Coast, an ancient Hanseatic port. You can walk on either the west or east bank much of the way; the decision largely turns on the &hellip; <\/p>\n<p class=\"link-more\"><a href=\"https:\/\/randomthoughtsltd.com\/?page_id=1680\" class=\"more-link\">Continue reading<span class=\"screen-reader-text\"> &#8220;Walking Through Waterland&#8221;<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-1680","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry","entry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/randomthoughtsltd.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1680","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/randomthoughtsltd.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/randomthoughtsltd.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/randomthoughtsltd.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/randomthoughtsltd.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1680"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/randomthoughtsltd.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1680\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":5648,"href":"https:\/\/randomthoughtsltd.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1680\/revisions\/5648"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/randomthoughtsltd.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1680"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}