AT A GLANCE
- Free (!)
- Beautiful walking route
- Quiet (unless the RAF are doing manoeuvres overhead…)
- Only partly suitable for cyclists
In a county laced with idyllic walking routes, the Paston Way sometimes goes a little unappreciated. The full footpath is something of a whopper, running from North Walsham to Cromer, via Mundesley.
The official literature suggests completing the route by bicycle. Having seen how narrow and overgrown the Paston Way gets at times, it’s hard to see how a cyclist could navigate it, short of riding one of those Peppa Pig trikes from the toddler section of the Argos catalogue.
Goodness knows who could even walk the Paston Way, let along cycle it. At twenty-two miles in length, I wouldn’t want to attempt it without ensuring I’d updated my will and kissed my loved ones before leaving the house.
Far more manageable are the bite-sized stages of the journey, which serve as standalone routes. This week, I cycled – on an electric bike, because I’m addicted to cheese – the section between North Walsham and Knapton. It is one of the many train routes killed off in that late-1950s/early-60s can-do spirit of ruining the Victorians’ hard work.
For those familiar with this corner of the county (with its one remaining active branch line), it is almost unimaginable to think that you could once hop on a train to Overstrand, Sidestrand, Trimingham, Mundesley and Knapton. How devastating this trainline’s 1959 closure must have been to those who rode it to work, or to those coastal businesses relying on the streams of happy holidaymakers it brought each summer. And how popular such a line would be today.
On the plus side, the removal of the line has left us with a very nice walking route. The train tracks are long gone. In their stead is a straight path, distinctively train-track-shaped, all gloriously dappled by overarching trees.
It really is a lovely stretch of hidden countryside. Barely a soul knows about it, let alone walks it. The peace is total. At one point in the journey, I got overly excited at the fact a butterfly was fluttering about my handlebars. I’d half convinced myself it was coming to say hello. About three seconds later, I saw a sign saying I was beside a butterfly haven.
It’s that kind of place.
From a cycling standpoint, even this little stretch of the Paston Way wasn’t an easy ride. There were several abandoned bridges at which I had to get off the bike and carefully – very carefully – wheel its hulking edifice down a steep set of steps, before cumbersomely – very cumbersomely – hoiking it up another steep set, whilst panting loudly enough to convince the butterflies there was a panther on the loose.
The full, official 22-mile track of the Paston Way can be found here, as can the details of shortened versions like the one I took.
Quietly glorious, the Paston Way is a perfect example of what Norfolk does best.
The Norfolk Writer 