The Peddars Way

One of the things I miss most about New Zealand is the solitude and reflection that you can achieve while tramping. In my part of England, just down the road from 12 million people, it is very difficult to get away from the crowds.

Slap bang in the middle of East Anglia is the Peddars Way - a long distance hiking trail that runs from the Suffolk border, up through Norfolk to the north coast. Over the last several weekends, I walked it in both directions (150 km).



It has little in common with a kiwi tramping track. It runs through farm land and is periodically on-road. At one point it follows a major gas pipeline, and at another it crosses the back door of a bizarrely-located McDonalds. The hum of traffic on the nearby motorways almost never fades from hearing.

However, mankind's touch on the area is also a benefit. The Peddars Way is drenched in history. The path passes through Castle Acre, which features both a 12th century Norman castle and the ruins of an 11th century monastery, and passes directly through the town's 13th century gate.

Norman Castle

Cluniac Priory

Older still, towards the coast, a series of early-to-middle Bronze age burial mounds are now grazed by sheep.

Bronze-age Burial Mound

The path itself follows a 2000 year old Roman road, build to access the territories of the Iceni tribes. Around 60AD, the Romans tried to take the Iceni leader Boudica's territory, and she responded by marching her warriors off to destroy Colchester, London, and St Albans. 

Wildlife abounds. I am now one of the world's leading experts at flushing grouse. These idiot birds run along the path in front of you, too stupid to turn left or right. Hundreds of the fools fled in terror before me.

I encountered hares, rabbits, muntjac deer, pigeons, and quail. I saw 2 snakes, one well deceased. The other slithered off the path in front of me. 

At one point, as I skirted the Sandringham estate, Prince Phillip fired off a couple of shots at me. My skin's pretty pale, so he was probably aiming high. 

To my surprise, I had the Way mostly to myself. Over the whole distance I met only 2 sets of hikers and a few people walking their dogs.

The path starts in flat forest to the south, around Thetford. As you head north it gradually dries out and turns to rolling hills. All along the length, it is well maintained, easy walking.







Eventually, the Way crests a hill and descends towards Holme-next-the-Sea on the coast. (Honestly, it should be Holme-next-to-the-Sea. It's no wonder they have to import writers.)



From there, it's a bit of a wade through muddy bog to the ocean.

James-Next-the-Sea

I really enjoyed the walk. It's certainly not a New Zealand tramping track, but it's not bad.

For Better or Worse

I was bored at home. It got to the point where I decided I would rather have a bad time somewhere that was challenging/interesting/scary than keep being bored. Bad > bored.

The trip to Southeast Asia set the bar pretty high - there weren't any bad times. Even when the Loatian houses were collapsing around me, that was a surreal sort of fun. England, by contrast, has so far been a pretty even mix of good and bad. There've been days when I wonder if I've made a colossal mistake.

When things seem a bit tough, how do you combat it? I went online and found that one of my favourite singers is performing in a couple of weeks. I suspect that neither of my readers will know who I'm talking about when I say that I've got tickets to see Aimee Mann in concert in London. That's the kind of pretty awesome opportunity that would be unlikely in NZ. If she plays "Ghost World" or "Lost in Space", I may squeal.

In the meantime, I'm off to London tomorrow for a BBC TV taping. Should be good. Or bad. But not boring. More soon.

The Why

So, why does someone quit their job, sell their possessions, and move about as far as you can possibly go without NASA's help?

If you're reading this in New Zealand, all I have to say is "OE".

But for anyone else: In NZ there is a tradition called the O.E. (Overseas Experience). The typical OE involves a student-age person moving to England for maybe a year or two. You can go anywhere for your OE, and be any age, but going to London in your early 20s is the norm. It's estimated that perhaps a quarter of all New Zealanders are overseas at any time.

Why is this so culturally ingrained? NZ is extremely isolated and it can feel like a very small place. Wikipedia reports that the London Metropolitan area alone has over three times as many people as our whole nation. The UK has interesting and diverse countries all around it, while New Zealand has the culturally similar Australia.

So Kiwis flock to England, mostly on a Working Holiday visa. The Working Holiday visa enables Kiwis under 31 to spend 2 years in the UK. There are conditions - you can't work in your field of expertize, and you can only work for 1 of the 2 years. In essence, it ensures that you're young enough to survive the rigours of living on the poverty line while in the UK.

However, current statistics suggest that increasing numbers of Kiwis are waiting until later in life for their OE. Friends of mine did their OE straight after university. Because they had little work experience and skant savings at that time in life, they ended up living with maybe 5 people to a bedroom in a rough area on the outskirts of the city. It sounded a bit grim at the time, and sounds even worse now that I'm a little older.

But I do find myself envying the adventure they had. So now, as they drift home, buy houses, and have families, I find myself wanting to play catchup. Well, to be specific, I'll pass on the boozing and living in a slum, but I do want to check out the history. I'm fascinated by the European history.