Norfolk Wildlife Trust's David North explores Norfolk’s last true wilderness in a traditional crabbing vessel.
Henry and My Girls, David North |
Its 6.30am and I’m in Wells to meet Henry, and to board his
restored crab boat, My Girls. It’s been blowing a brisk northerly for the last
couple of days but fortunately the heavy skies and heavy rains of the last 24
hours have been blown elsewhere and the early morning sun is bright on Wells
marshes. And it’s the marshes I have
come to explore. Not many boats could
attempt the narrow saltmarsh creeks that wind their way between Cley and Wells.
And not many navigators know these creeks well enough to attempt the journey
and find safe passage through this maze of sinuous, shallow and ever-changing
channels. The great thing about ‘My Girls’ is her shallow draft. As long as we
have a couple of feet of water under us Henry says we should be ok and that
traditional crab boats were made for just this landscape. So on a rising tide we are off, and with the
town of Wells slowly disappearing behind us we head east towards Stiffkey and
into a landscape as wild as anywhere on this planet.
Leaving Wells behind, David North |
I love the North Norfolk coast – its wildlife and its
wildness – and I think I know this coast quite well. I have walked the marshes over many years
and once was lucky enough to fly over them in a small plane, giving me a
birds-eye-view and revealing intricate patterns invisible when you are on the
ground. But being in a boat brings a new
perspective. Exploring the marshes on foot means being out at, or near, low
tide. Here in the boat we are out
amongst the marshland on a rapidly rising tide. Everywhere is movement and
change: what was solid land moments before becomes water. Water that moves in
strange patterns with currents running both up and down a creek at the same
time, creating swirls, mini-whirl-pools, upwellings, calm, oily flats and
silver sunlit ripplings.
Big skies across the Marshes, David North |
We ground several times, but, on a rising tide, its usually
just minutes before, with Henry at the tiller, our outboard swings us back into
the current and eastwards towards Morston.
There are ancient wooden posts that jut from the mud that could easily
punch a hole in a keel and in one place a low bridge where we must duck as we
pass under. From the boat of course
there are those fantastic huge landscape views across samphire and sea-lavendar-decked
marshes and those huge North Norfolk skies, horizon to horizon, above. These will be familiar to all who love these
marshes but for the moment, as we navigate creeks barely wider than the boat,
it’s mud that holds my attention.
'Cauliflower and mashed potato' mud, David North |
The
English language lacks enough words for mud: there is mud here with the texture
of cauliflower and mashed potato. There is mud, shiny, smooth and silvered by
sun. There is mud that is black, and brown and grey, and even orange in places.
There is mud that sprouts miniature cacti forests of samphire and mud patterned
with footprints of shelduck and redshank. There is join-the-dots mud, pricked
with sowing-machine regularity, by the beaks of now invisible waders. As the
tide rises towards its high it becomes harder to see the edges of the channels
that our boat, My Girls, most move within. It’s strange to see just the tops of
marsh plants waving over a sea of water. There are forests of sea asters, apparently
floating, their flowers not quite open yet, but hinting at yellow and purples
soon to come.
Oystercatchers, Blakeney Point, David North |
Then a change of scene. We are out into open water and
catching the full force of swell from those preceding days of northerly winds.
It’s exhilarating, and if not quite a roller-coaster, certainly enough to make
me hang on tight until we enter calmer waters in the lee of Blakeney
Point. There are black and white
oystercatchers at the seaward end of the spit, roosting out the high tide which
has covered their feeding grounds. A more careful look reveals dunlin, grey
plovers and a single black-tailed godwit amongst them. The lives of these
waders is driven more by tide than by day and night. They will feed all night
if that’s when the tide is low and muddy feeding grounds are exposed. There are common seals hauled up on the
Point, but the seals that follow us across Blakeney Pit are greys, heads
bobbing above the waves, giving us searching, curious Selkie stares before
diving, only to bob up again even closer.
Half-way house, David North |
We pass inland, or should that be ‘inwater’, of the bright
blue National Trust former lifeboat house and then, sail now rigged, past ‘half-way house’, the watch-house, where
once ‘preventative men’, the early
coastguards, pitted their wits against smugglers of brandy, baccy and geneva
(gin). I wonder if there are still smugglers today, but sadly, if so, then it’
more likely drugs or human trafficking that’s plied. A sad reflection on today’s world. There are gulls and terns that fly over the
boat with raucous calls; black-headed, herring and great-black backed gulls and
both common and little terns. Little
terns are one of my favourite birds, elegant, graceful with and almost ethereal
beauty as they hover before plunge-diving for small fish. I’m not alone in
admiring them. It was Simon Barnes who described little terns as ‘what
black-headed gulls dream of becoming when they die and go to heaven’.
Coming in to Cley, David North |
Our journey ends navigating the newly dredged, but still
narrow, river channel through waving reeds to disembark at the quayside next to
Cley windmill. So what will I take away
from this voyage though North Norfolk’s wild marshes under the lovely
terracotta sails of My Girls. What I
value most is the privilege of time spent in a truly wild place where the only
sounds are wind, waves and the calls of curlew and redshank. Salt-marshes are truly wild: shaped by the
forces of nature, scorched by summer sun, swept by winter storm. Places that are home for waders, seals and some
highly specialised and very fascinating plants, but where we humans are never quite
at home. Fleeting visitors, like me, that pass through on an adventure, always
aware that tide and change makes these challenging places to explore.
Exploring the saltmarsh coast:
Norfolk
Wildlife Trust reserves at Holme Dunes and Cley and Salthouse Marshes are great
places to see some of the wildlife characteristic of North Norfolk’s coastal
marshes.
The North Norfolk coast path between Wells and Cley follows the top of the saltmarshes
providing great views over the marshes.
Under sail, David North |
If you are
interested in exploring the creeks by boat then details of how to book a trip
with Henry on his restored, traditional crab boat My Girls, and other coastal
adventure trips can be found at www.coastalexplorationcompany.co.uk