For our family, the summer break usually means bedding down in Norfolk for a few weeks. This year, despite having spent a considerable amount of time there on sabbatical, was no different. And that meant an opportunity to add another walk to this collection.
This was a linear walk, which is made possible by the frequent bus service (or slightly less frequent but marginally quicker train) between the two towns. For reasons which will become clear later on, it’s definitely preferable to start the walk in Cromer.
Cromer is a jolly seaside town, its glory largely unfaded, especially on a warm Friday in August. The tower of St Peter and St Paul, Cromer, at 160 feet, is Norfolk’s tallest. The great churches and cathedrals of our larger cities have gradually been dwarfed by the Cyclopic structures built around them. Not so in Cromer, where the tower continues to dominate the townscape.
In my experience, this church is always open, always busy, and there is always a personal welcome from a volunteer. This would not have been the visitor experience for much of the nineteenth century, when the church was neglected to the point of dereliction. Arthur Blomfield was given the task of rebuilding the chancel in the 1880s. The east end feels – like most of the parish it serves – very Victorian.
Cromer Church is architecturally impressive, there’s no doubt about it. But I’m not sure it entirely works. Gothic church architecture is meant to draw the eye and the soul eastwards towards the altar. The grandiose nave, with its vast perpendicular windows flooding everything with light, prepares you for something even more spellbounding at the east end. Blomfield’s chancel is a bit flat, mostly because it is shorter than the ruin it replaced, and partly perhaps because it reflects the parish’s historically Low Church tradition.
However, turn right out of the chancel and into the south aisle chapel, and the stained glass more than makes up for it. The east window is pure pre-Raphaelite Burne Jones, depicting Enoch, Abel, Abraham, Moses, Samuel and Elijah, with angels peeking out of the tracery. The twentieth century windows in the south wall in the same chapel, continuing the Old Testament theme, are good too. My namesake – not often depicted in stained glass – strokes the mane of a lion. It is so tame you half expect it to miaow.
We left Cromer, ascending the coast path out of the town, as the crowds of sun-seekers and beach-goers descended from the caravan and campsites of the Runtons. We were going very much against the tide. Heading inland, crossing a public footpath so new it is not yet on the OS Map app, we left the crowds. Living in London, we come to Norfolk to get away from dense population, not be part of it.
Here, at the end of a lane, was the first excitement of the day. Cromer is on the Bittern Line. Our footpath had brought us alongside where the ‘Cromer Curve’ from Norwich meets the line from Sheringham. (Trains go into Cromer Station one way, and come out the other.) We had fortuitously arrived just as the train from Norwich came round the Curve, much to the unbridled delight of our son.
I almost didn’t bother with St Andrew, East Runton, but I am so glad we did. It is not rare in Norfolk, and particularly Norwich, to find churches repurposed for other activities. The opposite is true here. The church occupies the old infant school, having previously been housed in the larger school behind. I don’t know if it is usually open, but we happened upon it while a member of the congregation was giving it its weekly clean.
She told us that, when her mother and sister joined the congregation in the 1970s, they doubled it. Today this tiny church regularly gets 25-30 on a Sunday morning, which means there’s barely a free seat in the house. And almost as many different people come to the midweek Eucharist. Here is a church which bucks the trend. What’s the clue? As I’ve observed before, a Sunday service at the same time in the same place every Sunday. Looking at the noticeboard, this is achieved in three of the five churches in this benefice.
Most people would walk from Cromer to Sheringham via the coast path. Our quest for churches kept us inland, which meant a picnic on Incleborough Hill, from which you get a great view across the coast and sea. The area between these two towns is, in Norfolk terms, mountainous.
Heading back towards the railway we arrived in West Runton, East’s larger neighbour. It’s a picturesque seaside village, with the Village Inn at its heart. It was warm, so we paused in its beer garden, full of families enjoying their lunch. (Good range of local beers. I enjoyed a pint of Embers from the Norwich brewery, Fat Cat.)
Holy Trinity, West Runton is a stone’s throw from the village centre, but is marooned from it by the main road. We walked single file on the thin strip of pavement which leads you from the Rectory, alongside War Memorial, to the lychgate. It might have been safer to cross the road, and cross back again. I hope the Vicar has his own gate into the churchyard.
I wonder if its situation is why this church doesn’t feel as quite as loved as I expected it to be. The busy road might be a disincentive to equipment-carrying volunteers. It certainly makes it a building which is less easy to pop into. This is unfortunate, and presumably – through no one's fault – alters the church building's relationship with the community it serves.
As we left we were treated to a spectacular display by a light aircraft performing the most outlandish loop-the-loops over the sea. The pilot, I imagine, was revelling in the delight with which sunbathers on the beach were receiving his or her acrobatics.
All Saints, Beeston Regis is best approached on foot from West Runton. From the Cromer road, you take a narrow footpath alongside the railway. Quite unexpectedly, the path leads to a wondeful vista across a very large meadow to the church, with the North Sea just visible beyond. Actually, I think this is the only way the visitor should approach this church, as it is the one which best hides the vast caravan park which sits flush against the north wall of the churchyard.
There is a great deal of interest in this pretty, well cared for church. The tower is Norman, but not round. The rood screen – displaying the twelve apostles – has vivid colours and little evidence of the implements of iconoclasts.
If you’re not into ruins then, from here, you continue along the coast path up Beeston Bump. This was the rest of my family’s choice. But I am into ruins, so I set off back along the railway on my own to Beeston Priory. And I’m glad I did.
For some reason, I was expecting to find a few scant remains and a bit of rubble. I think that’s because I’ve often driven past on the coast road, or looked down from the Bump. But this priory church, its footprint complete, and most of its walls rising to roof level, is exceptionally well hidden from all sides until you’re right on top of it.
The Priory of St Mary in the Meadow, Beeston Regis was an Augustinian house founded in 1216. It was, unusually, independent, and its monks served the local parishes. Despite hearing families enjoying the Priory Maze next door, I had the ruins to myself for the duration of my visit. I wonder how many people even knows it’s here.
If you’re not into hills, then you may as well walk to Sheringham town centre from Beeston Priory, as you are effectively on the town’s outskirts. But I am into hills, and Beeston Bump is worth the climb. It prides itself on being Norfolk’s highest point. During the Second World War a Y station was located here, manned by German-speaking Wrens, and its octagonal base still remains. Looking out over the vast expanse of ocean you can see how it was an advantageous location.
Looking east, Beeston Regis’ church sits incongruously beyond the sprawl of caravans. (Or should that be the other way round?) In the distance, the top half of Cromer’s tower looms over the landscape, showing how far I had come. To the west, the attractive seaside town of Sheringham spreads out in front of you. At the other end of the town is the North Norfolk Railway, so the scene is completed by the sight of steam rising above the station. Somewhere down there is the Sheringham Little Theatre; Beeston Bump lent its name to one of Cinderella’s ugly sisters at last year’s panto.
One of the reasons for doing the walk in this direction is that the ascent from the Cromer side is much, much gentler than it is from the Sheringham side. I passed panting tourists and dog-walkers as I made my way down the hill towards the seaside.
We were on holiday, which is my excuse for starting this walk later than planned. Consequently, we had run out of time to visit the churches of Sheringham. We love this town and come here a lot, so there will be plenty of opportunties to visit them another time.
Instead, at the end of a gloriously warm August day, there was only one thing everybody wanted. Happily for us, that one thing is done exceptionally well in beef dripping at the Sheringham Trawler. You can't beat fish and chips.
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