The camp site at Dunwich Heath is reassuringly familiar, and our routine on these trips rarely changes - an hour or so of driving (it actually takes longer to load up the car with camping gear and bikes than it takes to get there), usually on a Sunday, a quick drink in the pub, put the tent up, a stroll through the heath to the National Trust tea shop, then back to the tent for dinner and a bottle of wine. However, disaster struck at dinner time - I'd forgotten the custard. So, we had our traditional camping pudding of fruit cake and custard, without the custard, which wasn't quite the same.
Invariably, it's a cream tea at the tea shop
and the walk back through the Suffolk heathland never disappoints, especially in the autumnal riot of colour courtesy of the heather and gorse
The setting of the camp site is exceptional - pitching in well established woodland, and literally just a few steps away from the beach
Next day, we had a gentle cycle ride down to Aldeburgh and back, stopping off at the the tea shop at Thorpeness on the way, complete with crocodile
Normally, I'd take exception to a lump of metal being dumped on an otherwise pristine beach, but "Scallop" at Aldeburgh is rather impressive - sort of Suffolk's version of the Angel of the North
After a brief wander around the Aldeburgh shops (my attention span with shops is less than minimal), we cycled back to Thorpeness for beer at the Dolphin
then on to the rather fantastic Eels Foot at Easthorpe for a pint of Gunhill
Then back to Dunwich Heath, having stocked up on custard at the shop at Leiston.
The pictures below show that the new tent is particularly spacious. In fact, it's rather too spacious at present, a result of me accidentally taking the inner tent to the dump the other day while clearing out the loft. I did check with Joke before taking it, and she positively identified it as belonging to an old tent that we hadn't used for years, and that it was OK to throw it out. OH NO IT WASN'T!! and I really should have checked
So, we now have a brand new £500 tent with no sleeping compartment. I'm currently waiting on the very nice people at Vango to tell me if they can supply a replacement inner. Fingers crossed...
Incredibly, after decades of problem free camping, this was our second tent disaster of the year. Our trip to Derbyshire in April was cut short, when, on a not particularly windy day, our previous tent blew down. It was an especially poor quality Blacks tent with flimsy fibre glass poles, purchased by Joke for no other reason than it had "integrated lighting" (this consisted of four fairy lights on a length of wire), and had shown tendencies to flap about in the wind on previous trips. On this occasion, one of the guy lines snapped, causing a domino effect of more broken guy lines and snapped poles. It's actually incredibly difficult to rescue a car load of gear from a hideously distorted and flapping tent that's designed to be six feet tall, but is actually now only two feet off the ground. I'd seen this happen to other people, and always assumed it couldn't happen to me - how wrong I was. To make matters worse, we had an appreciative audience of bemused looking Duke of Edinburgh Award youth, just to maximise my embarrassment Our old tent was last seen residing in a skip just outside Bakewell, and the new one is MUCH more sturdy, albeit with an important part now residing in a skip in Colchester.
Day three was our traditional walk to Southwold and back. Our route is always the same, through the woods, past the ruined windmill, over the heathland and the golf course to Southwold.
On arrival at Southwold, our routine is familiar. I buy a paper and a pie, and sit on bench reading and eating while Joke peruses overpriced shoe shops, happy in the knowledge that she hasn't got any money on her and so can't actually buy anything. She then returns from the overpriced shoe shop, enthusing about some "bargain" footwear, we return to the shop, look in the window, I point out that said footwear is "hideous", and we go for lunch. Happy days.
This time lunch was in the excellent Lord Nelson, an enormous coronation chicken sandwich and a pint of Gunhill.
On our way back, unusually, we took the ferry across the river at Walberswick, a bargain 90p to be rowed across, saving about a mile and a half of walking, before stopping at the Bell
Then back to Dunwich village, for dinner at the Ship and a walk back to the tent in the dark, then home the next day
Normally, I'd take exception to a lump of metal being dumped on an otherwise pristine beach, but "Scallop" at Aldeburgh is rather impressive - sort of Suffolk's version of the Angel of the North
After a brief wander around the Aldeburgh shops (my attention span with shops is less than minimal), we cycled back to Thorpeness for beer at the Dolphin
then on to the rather fantastic Eels Foot at Easthorpe for a pint of Gunhill
Then back to Dunwich Heath, having stocked up on custard at the shop at Leiston.
The pictures below show that the new tent is particularly spacious. In fact, it's rather too spacious at present, a result of me accidentally taking the inner tent to the dump the other day while clearing out the loft. I did check with Joke before taking it, and she positively identified it as belonging to an old tent that we hadn't used for years, and that it was OK to throw it out. OH NO IT WASN'T!! and I really should have checked
So, we now have a brand new £500 tent with no sleeping compartment. I'm currently waiting on the very nice people at Vango to tell me if they can supply a replacement inner. Fingers crossed...
Incredibly, after decades of problem free camping, this was our second tent disaster of the year. Our trip to Derbyshire in April was cut short, when, on a not particularly windy day, our previous tent blew down. It was an especially poor quality Blacks tent with flimsy fibre glass poles, purchased by Joke for no other reason than it had "integrated lighting" (this consisted of four fairy lights on a length of wire), and had shown tendencies to flap about in the wind on previous trips. On this occasion, one of the guy lines snapped, causing a domino effect of more broken guy lines and snapped poles. It's actually incredibly difficult to rescue a car load of gear from a hideously distorted and flapping tent that's designed to be six feet tall, but is actually now only two feet off the ground. I'd seen this happen to other people, and always assumed it couldn't happen to me - how wrong I was. To make matters worse, we had an appreciative audience of bemused looking Duke of Edinburgh Award youth, just to maximise my embarrassment Our old tent was last seen residing in a skip just outside Bakewell, and the new one is MUCH more sturdy, albeit with an important part now residing in a skip in Colchester.
Day three was our traditional walk to Southwold and back. Our route is always the same, through the woods, past the ruined windmill, over the heathland and the golf course to Southwold.
On arrival at Southwold, our routine is familiar. I buy a paper and a pie, and sit on bench reading and eating while Joke peruses overpriced shoe shops, happy in the knowledge that she hasn't got any money on her and so can't actually buy anything. She then returns from the overpriced shoe shop, enthusing about some "bargain" footwear, we return to the shop, look in the window, I point out that said footwear is "hideous", and we go for lunch. Happy days.
This time lunch was in the excellent Lord Nelson, an enormous coronation chicken sandwich and a pint of Gunhill.
On our way back, unusually, we took the ferry across the river at Walberswick, a bargain 90p to be rowed across, saving about a mile and a half of walking, before stopping at the Bell
Then back to Dunwich village, for dinner at the Ship and a walk back to the tent in the dark, then home the next day
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