It sounds cliché to say, but the last few days really have been a blur. North Norfolk is known for its beauty, but the sights, sounds and smells of vast, azure skies under endless stretches of sand with foamy waves rolling in will remain etched in my mind for years to come. I just got home a few hours ago and not quite sure the bump back into reality has hit yet.
My last night was a rather poignant and emotional one; the sunset was spectacular, an amber orb lingered over the reedbeds accompanied by that quintessential, cathartic coastal soundtrack of gulls reeling and boat ropes slapping against masts. I hadn’t quite clocked that I would be spending my final evening walking along the same muddy paths along which I had toddled, been piggy backed and squelched in oversized wellies as I grew up. As families sat out enjoying the evening, laughing over dinners and drinks, memories flooded back to me of a few years ago when we were one of those families, and Dad was more Dad.
Though I was exhausted and desperate to lie down, I took the last few miles slowly and soaked up the evening. I wild camped behind Brancaster beach, nestled quietly amidst the sand dunes. After a push of 40 odd kilometres, it didn’t take long for me to fall asleep.
I woke in the early hours to a misty sunrise over the ocean. Although technically my outlook at this point was due North, one of the joys of walking the East coast was seeing the incredible sunrises you get over the water. After walking through the marshes in cloying morning mist for a bit, I happened upon a peaceful woodland and brewed some tea for breakfast. It was sublime, with warblers and robins hopping between the branches above my head whilst I fuelled myself up for my final day of walking.
Titchwell, Thornham, Holme…the towns ticked by and I got closer to my final destination. One final boardwalk through the serene pine forests behind Holme Dunes and suddenly the striped cliffs of Hunstanton bounded into view. By this point my feet admittedly hurt quite a bit, as if they knew I was finishing so could finally throw in the towel. I somewhat pathetically limped along the sand to Old Hunstanton beach, yet feeling totally elated.
Then I sat down and wasn’t quite sure what to do with myself. All around me families were enjoying the sunny seaside, whilst sat on my patch of sand I had just finished an epic walk (if I do say so myself) and I felt somewhat…normal. I had a celebratory swim of course and mustered up the energy to find the sign that is the official start of the Norfolk coast path, the end of my trek.
My family came to meet me, which was incredibly special. A slightly surreal feeling seeing them all together after what felt like so long. I would like to give thanks now to their never-wavering support and backing in me doing this walk, Kalev’s continual emotional support and practical advice, visits from Rauiri and Tim, the phone calls I got from Will and Emily that cracked me up, the endlessly amazing messages I received from everyone following my journey and the mind-blowing hospitality of the people of Essex, Suffolk and Norfolk.
I’ll leave you with the words of one elderly gentleman whom I met whilst walking through Cley marshes. A local to the area, he started chatting to me as we crossed paths. Five years ago he had had a major brain operation and this was the first time he had walked properly since. What he said to me might be an overused phrase now, but coming from him it was quite profound; “Every day you wake up alive is a good day.”
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