Walking the Norfolk Coast Path

And not passing the MW S2 Exam again.

I’m old now, so we decided that a ‘holiday’ is now a ‘walk’. I also needed to get away from everything and everyone for a few days, seeing as it coincided with the results from my second attempt at the MW exams. Probably not a bad idea to be far from people when that email lands.

So, we (me and my partner) headed to the Norfolk coast to walk a section of the Norfolk Coastal Path. It’s only an hour or so from home, but this bit of coastline is what keeps me tied to Norfolk.

It’s a long path, if you do the whole thing, but we weren’t up for that. We skipped the first couple of days, picked a section that gave us enough miles to feel like we’d accomplished something but wouldn’t totally kill us. About 10 miles a day. Manageable. 

I’m not what you’d call a "natural walker." Obviously I can walk, but doing it for hours on end over several days isn’t really my natural habitat. The only thing that kept me going was having a plan, a bit of structure. We knew where we’d stop for lunch and where we’d end up each night.

It’s funny, I guess, how much having those checkpoints along the way helps when you’re in the middle of something long and drawn out. It is kind of like studying for the MW. There’s always that next bit you’ve got to get to, even if you’re not sure how far away the end actually is.

We were doing the posh version though. We went for the ‘pub lunches, cask beer, and nice hotels’ option. Not the carrying-a-tent-and-surviving-on-pot-noodles version. Sometimes, doing something properly just means spending a bit more money to make it bearable.

Stage 1: Burnham Deepdale to Wells-next-the-Sea

We set off with the usual optimism you have at the beginning of anything big. Very little prep, just a vague sense of direction and a charged iPhone for when things inevitably went sideways. The first few miles were easy enough, the sun was shining, and the path was straightforward. 

I kept my phone in my pocket, though. I wasn’t exactly dying to know, but I also didn’t want the email creeping up on me.

By the time we hit the dunes near Holkham, just after lunch, I might as well check my emails. There it was: ‘S2 Results - Dan Kirby.’

Didn’t pass. Not Theory, not Practical. Again. Fucking brilliant.

I finished my banana, a quick glug of Vimto¹, and thought, "Well, what now?".

There was nothing else to do but keep walking. Holkham Beach stretched out ahead of us, and I had miles of sand to dwell on the thought of gearing up for another year of study. That stretch of beach felt like a void. No answers, no quick fixes, just a reminder of how long the road ahead really was.

We made it to The Lookout for a cup of tea, then plodded on to Wells-next-the-Sea. Reached the hotel by 4 pm, tired and a bit deflated, but at least still moving.

Stage 2: Wells-next-the-Sea to Cley-next-the-Sea

This was the longest stretch we had planned, and it felt it. We’d tried to break it up into something manageable, pack light, map out each section, but it still felt like a slog.

We sent off around 10am, and it turns out we’d decided to walk the path on the same weekend of the Round Norfolk Relay race, a 198 mile race over 17 stages, as a non-stop relay. 

I spent all morning being overtaken by people running the same 11 miles that I was walking. It’s really hard not to benchmark yourself against people who do things better than you.

I was dwelling on how easy it seemed for a few people to jog their way along the stony, dusty, uneven terrain, leaving me comfortably behind.

This, without a care for the numerous other people that we overtook when walking, or those only doing a mile or two before hopping in the car and heading home, or for the chap who was nursing a punctured bike tyre. 

We made it to the Morston Anchor for a pint and some fried fish, sitting in the sun for a bit, trying to let the day settle. Just sitting there, not overthinking, just being. Eventually, we had to get up and keep moving. 

We reached Cley-next-the-Sea around 4 pm, with another pint at The George. From the pub garden, we could see Cley Windmill where we got married poking up over the rooftops. A nice reminder of a different kind of journey.

Stage 3: Cley to Sheringham

On paper, this day looked like the easiest. It wasn’t. Most of the route was along a shingle beach, and after two days of walking (and a bit too much beer), I wasn’t keen on the idea of trudging through pebbles for hours.

We broke it up with another pub lunch that didn’t make the second half any easier. There’s something mentally exhausting about staring at a distant cliff, knowing you’ll get there eventually, but also knowing the pebbles aren’t getting further away.

The path finally veered off the shingle and onto the cliff, which made the last stretch through eroding fields into Sheringham feel like a breeze in comparison.

Next Steps

The walking, the pints, it was all fine, I suppose. But in the end, the journey was more about the small moments in between. My knees reminded me I’m not a ‘walker’, but there’s something about keeping going, letting the landscape shift around you, that felt oddly comforting. 

The whole thing, the exams, the walking, it’s about staying on the path. It doesn’t always feel like progress, but sometimes you just keep going because that’s the only way to get to the end. 

I’ll bloody register for the MW again. Stage 2 for the third attempt. I’m going to upend my study plan for this year. Start again. Refresh. Reset.

Dan

1. I hate water.