The Cameras Never Stopped Rolling.

It has been some time since my last blog, this is due to a really heavy workload of filming.   It is not only the blog that has been neglected, there are a hundred and one jobs that need to be finished at home and the car is begging for some TLC.   But the cameras never stopped rolling!

Over the last few months a great deal of my time has been spent on the North Walsham and Dilham canal. The progress on the waterway has been nothing short of astounding.  Since my last blog in June 2016 two of the spillways have been restored and the lower gates at Bacton Wood lock have been manufactured and installed.   Each gate weighs a little over four tons and is built to tolerance of a few millimetres, quite an achievement in itself.

Gates being manufactured

Gates being lifted into position

The gate project took nine months from manufacture to installation.   There are still outstanding tasks to be completed before the gates are in full working order.   But more of this later.

Restoring the Ebridge spillway was another major project running through the summer of 2017.  The spillway was completely over- grown until it was re-discovered in 2005.  This work has had to wait twelve years until The Old Canal Company and the NW&D canal volunteers were able to begin the restoration work.   For two weeks in August the Waterways Recovery Group set up a summer camp to assist with the project. The recovery group travel all over the country to work on canals. 
The entire project took four months to complete.

Trust volunteers installing the spillway timber frames

Waterways Recovery Group laying bricks

Over the last twelve months literally thousands of tons of sub soil have been tipped along a two mile stretch of the canal to consolidate the banks.  Some of this essential work was concentrated on the dry section between Royston bridge and Pigney's wood.  
In spite of the wettest December for years, which produced the most appalling working conditions, the banks were completed in time for a visit from BBC TV.  The crew recorded the re-watering event giving the canal some very welcome publicity.

A dumper with a load of subsoil

The JCB consolidating the bank at Pigney's wood..

Films of all three projects are being shown at the Atrium theatre.
Spencer Avenue, North Walsham. 7.00pm. April 24th 2018. 
Every body welcome!

In my next blog I intend to re-visit these projects in more detail.

Swan Song

Day old chicks

Last summer (2014) a pair of young swans settled on the upper reaches of the North Walsham and Dilham canal and raised their very first brood.
From the day the chicks were born and took to the water I have filmed their progress and watched them grow and thrive.

Amusing little characters

Swans are common on most stretches of water and are taken for granted when compared to the more exotic species of wildlife, but these little characters kept me fascinated and amused on my twice weekly visits to the canal.  During those long summer days it was a delight to see them paddle "line astern" between mum and dad.  With butterflies fluttering overhead and dragonflies darting low over the water as they patrolled the tranquil waters between Spa Common and Ebridge lock.

The youngsters grew at an alarming rate in no small thanks to the hoppers of grain and bread left out for them.   In just a few weeks they morphed from fluffy little chicks with enormous feet and two   useless, stubby, wings, into scaled down images of their parents.

By mid July the youngsters had eased into the daily routine of eating, sleeping and preening.
Some nights they returned to the old nest at Bacton Wood which became almost submerged under their combined weight when they all clambered aboard, oblivious of Mum's valiant efforts to maintain the overcrowded nest.

Issued under Creative Commons (author unknown)

As August gave way to September stubby little wings had been replaced with an almost, adult wingspan.  Although still not powerful enough to get the young swans airbourne they frequently practised flying with their feet remaining firmly anchored to the rond.

Summer drifted into Autumn and the youngsters overall grey plumage was showing traces of white as they matured.  The family no longer travelled "line astern" between Mum and Dad, now they would spread out and move as a flock as they patrolled the waterway. 

Courtesey of Roymartinlindman

The family group had become a unit. Demonstrating their ability to defend themselves when
a young Otter working its way along the canal was spotted by one of the cygnets.  The juvenile raised the alarm and the entire family turned and hissed in the direction of the Otter.  The collective show of aggression was enough to deter any would-be predator.  The Otter left a stream of bubbles in its wake as it swiftly retreated downstream.

Young wings were now fully developed and airworthy,  strong enough to lift the young swans into the air.  By the turn of the year the cob began to harass his offspring.  He would chase them, often grabbing their tail feathers.   The cygnets could not understand this show of aggression toward them from the parent who had protected them for all of their short young lives.   Gradually the cygnets detached themselves from their parents and moved a mile or so downstream.

On a cold February morning the cob flew into the Ebridge pound and attacked the youngsters without mercy.  After a  furious period of flapping, splashing and anguished cries.  Wings slapped the surface of the canal and the younsters took to the air and flew off into the mist never to return.    The cycle of life had turned full circle.  On days when I look out across the canal reed beds I wonder where those youngsters are now and how they are coping on their own.  I guess I will never know.

Courtesey Adrian Pingstone.

Sunset On The Marsh.

An old friend, a reedcutter, telephoned to tell me flocks of Starlings were murmerating above the marshes at Haddiscoe and I should get my camera over there.  Christmas was only two weeks away and the days were very short.  With this in mind we set off for the Waveney during the afternoon in order to arrive at Haddiscoe before sunset.   The day had been particularly mild for late December as it had been for several weeks.  It was probably the mild spell that had prolonged the the Starlings' arial activity.

The sun was very low when we arrived and carried the equipment onto the marsh.  We did not know exactly where the Starlings would perform so we set up the camera and waited, assuming that a group of a few thousand birds would be fairly easy to spot.

Haddiscoe Marsh

The temperature fell sharply as the light faded and we scanned the marsh for a sighting.  The skyline was empty except for groups of seagulls flying line astern and heading due West with their familiar lazy wing action.

Out on the marsh the report of a shotgun rang out as another duck booked its place at table for Christmas lunch.  Our interest was raised when a small group of Starlings sped toward the Haddiscoe bridge but then dropped out sight.

A Small Group Of Starlings

I cupped my hands and blew into them warming my fingers momentarily.  Just a few yards away a Barn Owl flew silently over the Marsh. 

A glorious sunset was developing before us - crimson and gold light lit up the flooded marsh. Out in the haze another shotgun echoed over the reedbeds sending up a small flight of geese, probably "Pink Footed", but they were to distant to identify.

A Glorious Sunset

Apart from small packets of Starlings darting low over the marsh there was no sign of a major group.  The sun dropped ever lower and the temparature grew markedly colder.  I ran my fingers impatiently over the cold body of the camera - where were they?

The Sun Dropped Ever Lower

 A dark cloud formed in the East, it looked like smoke rising above the trees.  We soon realised this was not smoke,  it was Starlings. Wheeling and diving some distance away, not an enormous group but large enough to fascinate anyone who took the time to watch them.  How do so many little birds turn as one?  Why don't they collide with each other?   What induces them to perform this ritual every year?

Wheeling and Diving

 

 We filmed the arial choreography for about fifteen minutes before the Starlings dispersed and disappeared into the woods.  Then we were alone on the marsh watching the dying embers of a truly memorable winters day.  Priceless!

Priceless!

"Albion's" Home Run.

On Saturday, December 8th, I joined a volunteer crew from the Norfolk Wherry Trust to bring "Albion" home from Oulton Broad.  Albion had been at Excelsior's yard on Lake Lothing for winter maintenance. She became stranded at Oulton Broad due to bridge repairs on the Waveney and the Bure.

At 8am, seven volunteers and their equipment were dropped off at Oulton Broad yacht station and the cars departed leaving the crew to make "Albion" ready for her return to base.
The plan was to cross Breydon and reach Great Yarmouth at slack water, and be back at Ludham before dark.

Early morning at Oulton Broad

Every member of the crew knew exactly what was needed and set about their tasks.  Most of them had made this trip several times before.   The frosty morning had covered "Albion's" plank-ways and hatches with a  veneer of ice, making movement around the vessel quite treacherous.
Everyone of the crew were either Skippers or Mates - I was the only "Greenhorn" on board.
My job was to record the journey.  For my part in the proceedings conditions could not have been better.   No wind, crystal clear light and winter sun - absolutely perfect.

"Albion's" mast had been removed for overhaul some weeks earlier, so "Badger", a motor cruiser, was tied alongside to power the wherry on the return journey.

Making ready.

 "Badger" and "Albion" had an overall beam of twenty six feet, with "Badger" providing the power and "Albion" providing the steerage.  Additional power, if required, could be supplied from "Albion's" tender hitched to the stern of the wherry.  After about forty minutes preparation our little flotilla cast off.

The tender was quickly pressed into service nudging "Albion's" bow through forty five degrees until she came about and headed toward Oulton Dyke.

Great shots from the tender

I was able to get some some great shots from the tender as it manoeuvred around the wherry.  Then we were back on board and heading up the Waveney toward Great Yarmouth.

This was the first time I had travelled on this stretch of water so everything around me was very fresh and new.  From a photography point of view, if I did this trip one hundred times, the light and conditions would never be as good as this again.

River as calm as a mill pond

Ahead of us the river was as calm as a mill pond, golden coloured reeds reflected in the still water as we glided by - absolutely priceless!    Astern of us the wake from "Badger" glistened in the early morning sun.

Through St Olaves bridge and past Burgh Castle, "Badger's" engine never faltered, we were bang on schedule to reach the Breydon bridge at slack water.

St Olaves

There was a burst of activity on the plank-way as chains and mudweights were deployed, in case they were needed.

Chains and mudweights.

 Across the desolate, but strangely beautiful mudflats of Breydon.  Experienced eyes noted the tide was slowing by watching the current flowing around the navigation posts.   Under Breydon bridge at 12.10 - perfect timing.

Breydon - desolate and beautiful.

  Next, the old Vauxhall railway bridge, we were on time, on the Bure and on our way home.
 "Badger's" engine note changed tune as the "wick was turned up".  Behind our flotilla the wake was decidedly more agitated as our speed increased. Home before dark was the plan.   The sun was following an ever lowering arc creating longer shadows but still perfect for filming.

Albion at Acle bridge.

The cold air was beginning to nip fingertips by Stokesby and one last foray in the tender captured great footage of "Albion" shooting Acle bridge.  A setting sun made the water sparkle and "Albion's" crew became silhouettes against an evening sky of burnished gold and blue.

The crew became silhouettes

Into the Thurne and faithful old "Badger" was cast off and literally drifted off into the sunset.  The tender's outboard powered "Albion" on the last leg of the journey along the narrow channel of Womack water.  Six and half hours after leaving Oulton Broad "Albion" was home.

"Badger" drifted off into the sunset

For the folk who regularly sail the Norfolk and Suffolk waterways I guess this journey would be nothing out of the ordinary.  But for this "Geenhorn" sailor it is a trip I shall always remember.

To see a video clip   http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=btc7zyIpSOc

 

The Last Norfolk Coypu.

The rain is driving across the Norfolk marshes on the leading edge of a strong "North Easterly", signalling the arrival of winter.   These cold wet days mean Filming opportunities become few and far between.   While we wait for the brittle light that comes with the winter sun we decide to empty our loft of items that have been stored there and forgotten.  We sift through the treasures that once seemed so valuable and important to us  - it is strange how they have gradually transformed themselves from treasure into junk in the darkness of the loft. 

Among the growing piles of “Tip” or “Charity shop” I find a little book that belonged to my father.  “As I was a-sayin” by Jonathan Mardle. (Mardle is Norfolk for gossip) 

Jonathan Mardle was the pen name of Eric Fowler a journalist on the local newspaper, the “Eastern Daily Press” (known locally as The Norfolk News), he wrote about all things Norfolk.   The little book was printed in 1950, marked seven and sixpence, and is a collection of Eric Fowler’s articles describing his travels around post war Norfolk.  He paints fascinating word pictures about the Broads of a time when they were vastly different than they are today.

Two articles were of particular interest to me – the first, his trip on the freshly restored “Albion” in January, 1950, carrying cargo for the newly formed  Norfolk Wherry Trust.   Laden with forty tons of sand, gravel and cement out of Norwich, bound for Berney Arms and crewed by Jack Cates and his Brother George.

The second article that took my eye was his visit to “Wheatfen”, home of Norfolk naturalist (the late) Edward (Ted) Ellis.  He describes a colony of Coypu living in the sanctuary of “Wheatfen” safe from the trappers.  Every Coypu had a price on its head, or to be more precise, a price on its tail.   “Ted” Ellis considered the Coypu gentle creatures that lived off waterside vegetation, and he believed that Coypu actually helped to keep the channels clear.  I suspect Ted had never harmed a living creature in his entire life, based on the times I have met and spoken with him.

Coypu or Nutria (Photo courtesy of Alpsdak)

 The Coypu had few allies and in the end it was the trappers who prevailed and by 1989 the Coypu had been eradicated from Norfolk’s waterways.   The rise and fall of Norfolk’s Coypu population is quite a sad story.   Coypu also known as Swamp Beaver or Nutria were imported from South America to the fur farms of Broadland in the 1920’s.  They were bred in captivity for the soft layer of waterproof fur under their coarse outer coat.  Inevitably some of them escaped into the yare valley which suited them perfectly.   Rivers, marshland and fields full of crops were ideal for the Coypu, it is no wonder that they thrived there. 

Norfolk’s waterways were a long way from Chile from where the Coypu originated. They were strange looking animals with large orange incisor teeth poking out of their white muzzles.  Their ears and eyes were set high on their head to allow good vision and hearing while swimming.  The females had nipples high on their flanks to allow them to suckle their young while travelling through the water, propelled by a pair of powerful, webbed hind feet.

Living in the wild they had a span of about three years providing they could stay clear of the trappers.   A female Coypu was sexually mature at about four months and could have up to three litters a year.  Baby Coypu were born with their eyes open and a full coat of fur, they could be feeding on vegetation within a few hours of being born.  The adults consumed one quarter of their body weight every day eating Sedge, Reed, Water Lillies and other waterside plants. 

Photo courtesy of Alpsdak

 In the sixties I was working on a pumping station on Cantley marshes with a gang of Irish contractors.  One of them took his lodging allowance to the local pub and he did not stagger out until he had spent the lot.

As he had no money for his lodgings he slept alone, in the cement shed, on the marsh.

During the night, amidst the popping Marsh gas and the rising mist he saw a rat which he claimed was "bigger than a cat".   Next morning when we turned up for work he asked me if all Norfolk rats were that big – what he had seen was a Coypu.  He left Norfolk at the end of the job believing that our county hosted the largest breed of rats in the civilised world.

Coypu are quite large rodents, adults could weigh up to twenty two pounds and could reach two feet in length with an additional twelve inches of tail.  It was their burrowing activities that brought about  their eventual eradication.  They created networks of tunnels in the river banks which filled with water and became prone to caving in, this increased the risk of flooding.

Coypu are large rodents (Photo courtesy of Schieber)

Nor were the Coypu a friend of the farmers.  When waterside vegetation became less plentiful the Coypu moved into the fields of sugar beet.  They would work along the rows taking a bite or two from each plant leaving a trail of worthless crops in their wake. 

So the death sentence was passed on all Coypu, “five bob a tail” was the bounty and by 1989 trappers had wiped out the Coypu in Norfolk. 

  

Trappers Harvest (Photo courtesy of US Government)

Coming from a tropical climate Coypu were susceptible to frostbite in their tails during the hard winters.  This lead to infection and eventual death, but the demise of the largest numbers of Norfolk Coypu was due to the trappers not natural causes.  The trappers used square, wire cage traps to catch the Coypu, then cut off the animal’s tail to collect the bounty.

I would like to believe that somewhere in the more remote parts of Broadland there just might be a small group of fugitive Coypu hiding out, living up to their outlaw status.

French Coypu  (Photo courtesy Tangopaso)

Authors footnote

1. Coypu are quite common in Europe and America

2. "As I Was A-sayin" by Jonathan Mardle is still available but no longer at 7/6d.

Broadland Myths and Legends.

"Mist On The Marsh" is now well into it's third year in production - I originally thought it would take me about two years to complete.   There have been times when I have wondered if the film would ever be finished and periodically questioned my sanity for even starting it.

Thankfully persistence has paid off and the documentary parts of the film have been completed at long last.  We started filming the Myth and Legend sequences a few weeks ago.   A group of actors and actresses have enthusiastically bought into the project and breathed new life  into what was becoming a tired production.

We are currently shooting the legend of Christopher Burraway who is buried in St Mary the Virgin parish church at Martham.
The curious "Burraway inscription" has been the subject of conjecture for many years.

Martham Church

  "Here lyeth the body of Christopher Burraway, who departed this life ye 18^th day of October, anno domini 1730 aged 59 years.

And there lies Alice, who by her life  was my sister, my mistress, my mother and my wife.  Dyed Feb ye 12, 1729, aged 76 years."

The legend claims that a child was conceived by a father and his daughter.  To avoid the scandal the child was quickly dispatched to another county, where he was given the name Christopher, and fostered until he "came of age".  He took to the road and earned his keep by taking farm work where ever he could find it.   Purely by chance he returned to Norfolk - looking for work.   Knowing nothing of his past or parentage it seems that fate drew him to Martham where he was offered work by a lady farmer named Alice.   Christopher was so diligent in his work that Alice made him bailiff and gradually Christopher  struck up a close friendship with his employer.  Although he was almost twenty years younger than Alice they eventually married.

Shortly after the wedding they were preparing for bed when Alice noticed a strange birthmark on Christopher's shoulder.  It was identical to the birthmark on the child she had abandoned all those years earlier, and yes, you've guessed it - she had married her own son.

Alice and Christopher in a scene from "Mist On The Marsh"

 This sorry tale raises far more questions than answers and there is more than one rational explanation for the "Burraway inscription".  Personally I prefer the folklore version because it makes the film much more interesting.

Martham is well worth a visit - if you are going by boat it means passing under the notorious bridge at Potter Heigham which guarantees a bit of excitement.  If you can make it under the bridge travel up the Thurne.  The stone bearing the inscription can be seen in the south aisle of the church.  If you do decide to visit Martham don't  go just to see the "Burraway" stone.  St Mary's is a beautiful church with many outstanding features.  It also has the alternative version of the "Burraway inscription" in the church guide.

Gargoyle On Martham Church

What's next - "Black Shuck" - now that is a legend.

The North Walsham and Dilham. Part two.

Like a vision from a Jerome K. Jerome novel, three men, a canoe and a camera set off from Wayford Bridge  to explore the North Walsham and Dilham canal and paddle up to Honing lock.   Dragonflies and Swallows swooped low over the water ahead of the canoe as we made our way into the main channel.  By sheer good fortune we had picked a perfect day for our trip during  the wettest June for thirty years, bright sunlight with just a hint of a following breeze .

To see a video of our trip along the canal click here.

Great tracts of the North Walsham and Dilham canal have remained derelict and untouched for years since the last wherry traded there in the 1930's.  As nature has encroached and reclaimed the banks and water margins only small craft  are able to navigate the waterway.  This splendid isolation has created a semi wilderness and provided a truly memorable journey for those prepared to make the effort.    The canal still has a generous width at the Wayford end with enough depth to allow cruisers up to the staithe at Dilham.  Fork right (or starboard) at the Dilham turn and the old canal sets off toward Honing, Briggate, Ebridge and Bacton Wood.  Built almost two hundred years ago the canal served the mills along its nine miles.    When it was first opened the canal reached as far Swafield and Antingham but this section was abandoned and de-watered  in 1893.   Currently the only navigable sections are between Wayford Bridge and Honing lock, with a recently opened section from Ebridge mill to Spa Common.

Wayford Bridge

 Our plan was to paddle from Wayford Bridge to the lock at Honing a popular trip for canoeists and the most accessible.   For the first mile or so the canal is fairly wide with overhanging trees, in spite of this prolific canopy  the canal flows beneath an open sky.  Lush green trees confused with blue sky and white clouds reflected in the water and rippled past the canoe as we headed west.   Fallen trees floated out  into the water anchored to the banks by their roots, there was ample clearance to pass them by on these wider sections of the canal.

Fallen trees anchored by their roots.

There are very few man made features along the this stretch of the canal, once the noise of traffic is left behind at Wayford bridge there is a sense of remoteness, of glorious isolation.   We were travelling back in time to the days of the wherries where no clocks or timetables held sway, only wind and tide. 

Our little canoe glided over the water toward Tonnage bridge where a toll keepers cottage once stood.  Every cargo on the canal had to pay tolls at this point with few exceptions.   The original Tonnage bridge collapsed in 1980 but was rebuilt in 1982 with a grant from the Broads Authority. 

Tonnage Bridge

 "Tonnage Long Reach" so named by the early watermen is the stretch of water leading up to Tonnage bridge.  This is a particularly picturesque section of the canal, it was like paddling through a John Constable landscape complete with long horned highland cattle wallowing in the shallows.   It is not difficult to understand why there is resistance to parts of the canal being renovated, who would want to share this idyllic stretch of waterway with the chattering masses if they did not have to?

Onward beyond Tonnage bridge great floating rafts of water-lily's slip beneath our canoe. Lush reed beds line the banks punctuated by overhanging tree branches that gently break the surface of the still water.
The canal winds through open country passing lush, rolling pastures.  Crows call out from a distant wood while a host of dragonflies fly alongside us, the only sounds are birdsong and the rippling water flowing out behind the paddles - priceless!

Around half distance the canal begins to narrow dramatically, the encroaching reed beds grow tall on both banks and threaten to choke the channel.   Decaying trees line the margins their skeletal remains stand stark against the sky.   The breadth of the canal recedes until there is barely enough room to continue.  The reeds stand taller than our canoe, whispering to us as they chafe the gunwale of our little craft as we push through   them.   

The Canal Narrows Dramatically

The channel is so narrow we begin to wonder if we will  be able to complete the trip.  Then to our relief the waterway begins to open out again. Small patches of  foam drift downstream warning us that Honing lock is ahead.  As we get closer to the lock the sound of rushing water grows louder and louder and the surface becomes increasingly turbulent.    Around one last bend and the old lock hoves into sight ending what has been a really enjoyable paddle.

Honing Lock

The impressions and views expressed in this article are solely my own and may differ to the views of  land owners and other interested parties along this beautiful canal.

 

"Norada"

Recently I spent the day with the Wherry Yacht Charter Charitable Trust in Wroxham.  I went there to film "Norada" being hauled onto the new slipway for some dry dock maintenance before she goes out on charter. The equipment to winch "Norada" onto the new slipway had been tested and trialed but this was the the first time it had been used for real.     The wherry yacht was winched out of the water just far enough to attach the A-frame and the air jacks.  Then slowly but surely "Norada" was inched majestically up the slipway - fascinating!

I have a limited knowledge of boats and their design so it was curiosity that drove me to research "Norada's" pedigree.

There is a theory that the elegant lines of the old trading wherries can be traced back to the Viking long ships.  True or not, there is no doubt that the graceful profile of a trading wherry is very pleasing to the eye.    When freight shifted from the river to the railway many trading wherries were converted to pleasure wherries.  Then, as tourism on the broads grew in popularity, purpose built pleasure wherries were turned out of the yards to meet the growing demand.   The ultimate development of the pleasure wherries led to the  emergence of the lighter and faster Wherry yachts.   "Luxury afloat" was unashamedly built into these hire craft and the Edwardians loved them.    

"Norada" is one of three wherry yachts currently operated by the WYCCT,  her sisters are "Olive" and "White Moth".   All three of these vessels were built by Ernest Collins of Wroxham.    The origin of these elegant craft is a fascinating story in its own right.

Wherry Yacht "White Moth"

(photograph courtesy of Katy Walters )

In late summer 1903, the beach yawl "New Skylark" was carrying thirteen passengers on a pleasure trip from the beach at Great Yarmouth.   About a mile out she collided with the F E Webb, a steamer out of London.  The "New Skylark" was practically cut in half and sank instantly with the loss of six souls.

Almost a week after the accident the wreckage of the "New Skylark" was recovered and towed into Yarmouth harbour.  Ernest Collins learned of the "New Skylark" and bought the wreck.   He redesigned her with cabin accommodation for ten adults and added a counter stern.  With a gaff and boom rig she was  re-launched as the wherry yacht  “White Heather”.   "White Heather" could be hired for around ten pounds per week including a skipper and an attendant, she continued working as a hire craft until 1932.

In 1909 Ernest Collins built "Olive" a dedicated wherry yacht naming the vessel after his youngest daughter.  The interior layout used in "White Heather" had been so successful it was replicated in "Olive".    "Olive" weighed in at twenty one tons with a draught of three feet six inches.   She could only squeeze under Potter Heigham bridge if tidal conditions were perfect, and passing under the old Ludham bridge was out of the question.

Next came "Norada" she was named after the nineteen metre class, racing yacht of the same era.  "Norada"  was launched in 1912, the same year as "Titanic".  However the the wherry yacht proved to be infinitely more durable than the ill fated liner.    "Norada" weighing just sixteen tons was shorter than "Olive" by three feet, and twenty one inches narrower in the beam.   She was designed specifically to pass under the "Old" Ludham bridge by virtue of a lower cabin than her sister "Olive"   "Norada's" reduced dimensions would also allow her to sail freely and unhindered through the locks on the Upper Bure and the Ant.  Ironically many of the locks and bridges were washed away in the great flood the same year she was launched. 

Racing Yachts circa 1900.

 
 "Norada" continued working as a hire craft until 1950 when necessary economies to the Collins hire fleet led to her being sold into private ownership, her new owner renamed her "Lady Edith".   Then in 1964 Barney Matthews, once a skipper for Ernest Collins, bought and restored the wherry yacht.  In her seventy-fifth year she was once again named  "Norada". 

2012 is "Norada's" centenary year - watch out for this spirit of the Edwardian age sailing on the Norfolk and Suffolk waterways this summer.  


If you would like to see a short video of "Norada" being "hauled out" click here.

Broads Under Threat

A great deal of time and money has been allocated to protecting the Broads and Broadland from flooding. One hundred and forty million pounds over twenty years to be precise. This is the Broadland flood Alleviation Project which has just reached its midway point.   Mile after mile of new dykes and banks now follow the course of the waterways - their presence may not please everyone but in the event of excessively heavy rainfall or tidal surges villages and waterside properties now have added protection.

Recently we had the cameras out at Happisburgh on the Norfolk coast - we went to see the properties about to be demolished in Beach road.   The erosion of the cliffs along this stretch of the coast has been going on for hundreds of years and the "Powers that be" plan to allow it to continue for at least the next one hundred.

What, you may ask, has this got to do with the Broads?
The flood protection plans currently being carried out in Broadland involve a large number of agencies, but none of them are responsible for Shoreline Management.

Property On The Edge

There is a Shoreline Management Plan and when it is boiled down it amounts to an orderly retreat from the sea.  As far  as the elements are concerned we are not going to fight them on the beaches.    The architects of the plan have forecast  the degree of cliff erosion  up to 2025, 2055, and 2105.  Nobody can be sure if the experts have got their forecasts right, we just have to trust in "The Great God Computer" and hope they have.   The slipway for the Happisburgh lifeboat slipped away sometime ago and the Lifeboat station itself has been demolished.   The lifeboat station was not due to fall into the sea for another twelve years.   Similarly, the catwalk leading to the beach stairway has been removed from the crumbling cliff, seemingly in the nick of time, its demise also appears to have crept well ahead of schedule.

 Old  Slipway

Remains Of The Beach Stairway

Talking to local people only provides anecdotal evidence but it does graphically illustrate what is happening to parts of the Norfolk coastline. Like the fellow who told me he remembered having tea in his friends garden when he was he was a teenager - he is now well into his sixties and the garden now lies more than a  hundred yards out to sea.

Timber Sea Defences

The Road To Nowhere.

The timber sea defences at Happisburgh were constructed in 1959 between Ostend and Cart Gap.  By 1989 the sea had rendered sections of them in-effective and since then the erosion of the cliffs at Happisburgh have accelerated at an alarming rate.    Local government has been fighting a losing battle to maintain the depleted sea defences with limited resources  and without any financial help from Central Government.
Local government agencies simply cannot raise the funds required to finance a civil engineering project of this magnitude, while Central government feel it is economically unsound to spend large sums of tax payers money to protect a few clifftop properties in a remote Norfolk village.   The rate of erosion is being monitored  in case the heart of the village becomes threatened.  When that time comes it may well be too late.

In the 1990's there was a feasibility study carried out to stabilise the cliffs and funds could have been made available for the scheme.  Unfortunately the various agencies procrastinated for such a long time that the window of opportunity to launch the scheme was lost along with more large areas of Happisburgh cliff.  The lack of decisive action for whatever reason means we no longer have a defence against the sea on this vulnerable stretch of coast.

Unstable Cliffs

Now for the scary part.  The moorings at Stalham are only five short miles from those disappearing cliffs at Happisburgh.  The landscape between the cliffs at Happisburgh and Stalham is flat rolling farmland.    Unless something is done, it is not a case of if the sea breaks through, but when.   In this event there will be absolutely nothing to stop the sea reaching the Broads.

It will not be in my lifetime but unless some action is taken it could happen in less than a hundred years.  To someone in their twenties that must seem an inconceivable time scale, although in reality it is barely a lifetime away.   This subject has been aired in many forums over a number of years.  To some enlightened individuals it is dismissed as scare-mongering. To other, equally, well informed people it is just a theory and it may never happen.   The view of this old "Norfolk boy" is somewhere between these two extremes.   Rising sea levels and increased rainfall in the 14th century were responsible for flooding the peat excavations and creating the Broads - what bitter irony it would be if it is the sea that destroys them.  

Bless This House.

 

Author's note.
There is no political agenda attached to the above article.  I only observe what heritage is preserved and that which is at risk.   "There is nothing more powerful than the power of nature".

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