For this year’s autumnal week away in the UK I settled on Norfolk, staying very close to the Suffolk border as indeed I had done exactly five years earlier when I didn’t really come back with many photographs. This time I seem to have done rather better, so here we go…
Back in October 2020 we were seven months in to the pandemic that changed so much, with the spectre of rolling lockdowns looming large. I’d managed to get to Lincolnshire by the time it was announced that the north was back in lockdown, so carried on to Norfolk anyway – only to find much of it shut or restricted despite not being in the same predicament. Hard to believe it’s already five years ago in some ways.
But while in 2020 everything felt odd, jarring, and peoples’ insularity was perhaps borne out of fear, there’s no such easy justification for it now. Norfolk is an odd place in many ways, at least the bit I was in. Two of the younger members of my current team at work originate from these parts, and it came as no surprise to them that my take-away of the people was that they drive with no consideration or gratitude whatsoever, and that they appear to harbour something akin to mistrust if not outright hostility towards visitors. Fortunately I tend to habitually stick to the places farthest from the crowds, and the hospitality sector at least knows that their livelihoods depend on outsiders and were perfectly pleasant. It didn’t unduly spoil the experience – save for me being extra vigilant when driving on narrow roads – but it does make you wary…
What comes to mind when you think about Norfolk? Wind pumps on the Norfolk Broads, coastal erosion and RAF bases for me. And I managed to find and shoot a representative selection of locations that tick all those boxes. You can’t ask for much more of a place.
As the week began the weather forecast was for wall-to-wall cloud, the entire time, which would have been disappointing from a photography point of view and left me scratching about for alternative things to fill the days with. The morning after I arrived was the only one that showed any promise, so I head out in the dark for a wander along the River Thurne to try and catch a nice sunrise. There was no mist – which would have been nice – and no visible sun either, but the stillness of the scene and blush of pink in the clouds at least gave me one shot. It’s at the top of this page.
The day after that I looked out of the window at breakfast and was surprised to see blue skies and sunshine, hastily rearranging my plans to try and capitalise. From that point on I resolved to assume that there would be an unpredictable mix of sunshine, showers and clouds, and chance my arm on making a good picture anywhere. In this instance I head to Horsey and for a walk to Brograve Mill.
The Grade II listed eighteenth century drainage mill was last used around 1930 and it’s not accessible unless you boat or swim across the Waxham New Cut. The lean on it was believed to have been caused by an angry devil attempting to blow it down and foil Sir Berney Brograve’s attempts to drain the land, but I’d wager it more likely to be the result of a bit of subsidence. With the sun breaking through intermittent rain bearing clouds I managed to get a nice shot of it in the autumn light.
Things were looking up, and I head for some lunch before taking to trip to Happisburgh. This poster boy for East Anglian coastal erosion doesn’t appear to have succumbed to any notable advances from the sea since I was last here five years ago, but you never know what’s around the corner. I spent some time on the beach shooting the waves breaking around timber structures and rocks that are designed to absorb the power of the sea before they hit the soft cliffs. The sea air was bracing and the odd showers light. It felt good to be outdoors with no firm plans or need to hurry anywhere. That is something I’ve thought about the Norfolk way of life before: there’s very little urgency in anything.
From here I decided to go back to the barn at Waxham that I’d stopped at for lunch and take coffee and cake, and it was on the return that I noticed the shabby louvres and bird-encircled tower of the church of St. John that sits behind the barn. Intrigued and checking the maps while indulging in an enormous cream tea, I knew I had to see if I could get to it.
It wasn’t all that hard. The church is no longer in use and sits in an overgrown graveyard on the edge of a farm, as eerie as it is peaceful. I captured it here as the weak afternoon sun lit its walls up against the dark clouds beyond. There seemed to be pigeon lofts in the adjacent field, their inhabitants occasionally swarming the tower and adding a little life to the stillness.
Architecturally it fits the Norfolk vernacular that is reflected in many other buildings.
Next up was somewhere I really wanted to see. The former RAF Neatishead has now been reduced to RRH status, containing a Remote Radar Head that feeds information elsewhere. Most of the once prolific air bases are now closed, abandoned, demolished or redeveloped and this one is in private hands. Its most obvious feature from outside is the Type 84 Radar, which I managed to shoot through the adjacent field as a fleeting shaft of light danced across the crops, dark skies once again brooding beyond.
The impressive structure isn’t readily accessible from within, but part of the site does contain the excellent Museum of Radar. Two hour-long (ish) talks, one covering WWII and the other the Cold War, plus self-guided wandering round the exhibits, are well worth at least three hours of your time.
Next up was the North Norfolk Railway, home to the recently listed stations at Weybourne and Sherringham. Weybourne is the one that doubled as Walmington-on-Sea in Dad’s Army. It’s lovely there but the steam engine I intended to photograph arrived backwards and was almost immediately obscured by a waiting diesel on the westbound side. It didn’t make for a good shot.
At Sherringham I got a little wet, but I did manage to capture something a bit better. The NCB austerity saddle tank engine was miles from the Fife coalfield it served – not to mention never intended to pull passenger services – but it makes for a nice picture all the same. I very rarely include people in my photographs but I think the three men seen here struggling with their loco rather makes the shot.
Overstrand on the north-east Norfolk coast was initially intended as a stop off on the way back to my holiday cottage on the Broads, somewhere to have a bit of a wander. I didn’t really look in to it, but arrived to find a photogenic section of sea defences, a high tide and some crashing waves.
Recomposing on a higher elevation for this square-on take after getting soaked by one too many rogue waves from the lower left, I couldn’t decide whether I wanted the nearest or the farthest point to be centred in the shot. I went for the farthest point, which was lit up by a resurgent sun partially obscured by the cliffs behind me. I quite like it.
Having almost filled a week by this point I had saved something challenging for the last day. Berney Arms mill on the River Yare is the tallest building in Norfolk at just 21.5 metres. It’s also the farthest I have ever walked just to take a photograph, it being around 4.5 miles each way from either end of a riverside path. It’s inaccessible by road and the only other way you’d get there is by train on a very scant and unaccommodating timetable, or by boat. Which I don’t have. It’s a Scheduled Monument looked after by English Heritage, though there are pieces falling off it according to the warning signs around it.
With my last shots in the bag, I retraced my steps to the village of Reedham and enjoyed a well deserved lunch as the stillness and now featureless grey cloud hung over the region. But I’m pleased with the images I captured.
Rested, I made the long journey back up North, stopping to check out some radio telescopes in Cambridgeshire on the way. I’d wanted to shoot these for years but once again the flat light and featureless skies hampered me getting anything close to what I wanted. Still on the list for a future revisit then…
Thanks for stopping by.