I was in Norfolk for other reasons this weekend so it seemed a good excuse to do some Fen exploring on the way back, with a bit of an eleventh-hour July BaM. With no disrespect to all of the lovely BaMs reporting majestic mountain views, remote moors, high passes, beautiful beaches, and sylvan glades, I thought it was time I did some anti-scenery again. The appeal lies in the absence of anything interesting whatsoever – it’s interesting because it’s not interesting, or to paraphrase Stu “nothing to see but nothing” which is one of my favourite quotes from when he met some Welsh tourismo officials. So the photos are either going to hold the record for the most boring BaM pics ever, or possibly the most unusual depending on your outlook or warped mind like mine. Then again, think “enormous skies” etc (after some inspection over the weekend, I can confirm they are indeed enormous – either infinite, or at least rapidly accelerating away from us).
Si Bowden, who is an all around good egg, lives nearby and he was keen to join in too. I have a sort of ongoing background hobby of trying to utilise all sorts of obscure railway stations on my BaMs, and by good fortune this jape would be able to top the lot. Shippea Hill has only one train on Saturday evenings and in one direction only – once there you can’t get back! For many years it was the least-used railway station in the whole of the UK, so I thought I should do my bit and increase the patronage. Least-used because there’s absolutely nothing there, apart from rain and carrots. It’s also completely misnamed because far from being a hill it’s pretty much below sea-level, although the “tri-border” point between Norfolk, Suffolk, and Cambridgeshire is in an adjacent field, so there we go (damn! that's an "interesting" feature so I've spoiled my whole premise already!). The guard was completely stunned to be asked to stop there (it’s a request stop) and was baffled what I was going to do. Pointing at my “yes I’m camping no I don’t know where” sticker didn’t help him much.
Naturally, the VERY MOMENT I stepped off the train, the rain started. It continued to do so in varying degrees for the whole BaM – stuck with it now though, no train to escape on! The landscape is indeed fascinating and had an atmosphere all of its own which soon grew on me. We had no route planned other than gradually working our way north across the fields and dykes towards Downham Market. Me pointing at nothing:
Obviously everywhere is flat as a pancake and full of all sorts of food crops, but this field had us baffled until we worked out that it’s a turf farm – it’d be ace for a massive bowls game or possibly a giants’ cricket pitch:
Equally baffling were these signs in the middle of nowhere on a very rough track which you’d have a job getting over 10mph along, and with non-existent children:
Nothing. Oh actually I think I can see a tree two miles away.
Soaking wet by now we suddenly discovered we were on NRN 30! Totally blocked by logs nobody could have been this way for years. As a Cambridgeshire Sustrans warden Simon was fired up to get a report in as soon as he got back
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Dusk was now drawing in and we needed to find a spot fairly pronto. I soon spied a derelict house stuck in the middle of a field. Unfortunately I forgot to photograph it in the excitement of a barn owl flying out of a hole in the roof as we approached. Gingerly ( or in my case gingery
) entering I noticed the upper floors had collapsed but the ground floor had plenty of space albeit extremely dusty. As I was clearing some space Si objected to the choice, possibly on the grounds of it being haunted, so we continued to a nearby village which seemed to have a church and graveyard, which are always good standbys. Just outside the village Si spotted a grassy field through the pouring rain and we had a nose around for a tarp pitch. But then, aha! Hidden behind some nettles in one corner was a shed! It turned out to be luxury (by our standards of course) accom complete with a bed of straw, and even a waterproof roof! Buoyed up a bit by this we reserved our room with the receptionist and continued on to the village pub to get wet inside as well as outside. I tried to pay for our first round with my credit card, which resulted in lots of umming and ahhing and fingers on pursed lips, and rootling round in drawers and on high shelves, until finally a card reader was found in a cupboard and the cobwebs blown off it ready for action. Retiring to our deluxe shed, we had one of the best night’s sleep for ages despite the rain drumming away on the roof.
We worked our way gradually towards Downham Market where I knew there was a nice café by the river – the “Charmed Interiors”. We got a bit lost at one point and ended up following what we thought was a bridleway by a river. When it arrived at the railway line river bridge we found that the head-room was about four feet! Either this was a bridleway for Shetland ponies only or we had a problem. There was also a lot of poo strewn on the mud (unless the mud was poo as well) which was about the right size for Shetland ponies until we sussed that it was of human origin, arg!
We finally reached the café – closed on Sunday. OK, up into town instead where we found a Turkish Restaurant which also happened to do breakfasts – English as well as Turkish.
Suitably restored, we set off into the murk to find lots of… nothing
and…. nothing..
And… er… nothing. With a bridge.
The whole place was criss-crossed with endless tracks and lanes at right angles to each other so we gave up with any pretence of map reading, and just kept turning left and right and right and left generally trying to go east. It seemed to work because at lunchtime we arrived in Wisbech, which it’s fair to say might have seen better days. Well the dockside regeneration project seems to have a very nice expensive sign after which the investment seems to have stopped.
There’s some impressive Georgian houses and buildings but sad to say it was otherwise a little bit village-of-the-damned.
We wandered on in the general direction of Ely, through Outwell and Upwell with its attractive riverside cottages, and fields full of courgette-picking casual labour – a massive influence on proceedings and politics in this area. Sorry about the murky pics but it was still pouring with rain. Actually, in my usual perverse way I think the rain improved the whole tour experience, sunshine would have been far too pleasant and I quite enjoyed the all-pervading “Eeyore’s Gloomy Place” vibe.
Did we mention there’s nothing there?
The rain suddenly took a further turn for the worse (better?) as we arrived at Littleport so we stopped for a cuppa at the garage. Cue photo of extremely dejected and drenched Reg contemplating Stop Being Soft stickers on bike:
Instead of heading a little further east to Brandon station, Si convinced me to head south to Ely and catch a train from there instead. Which is what I did. Naturally, the VERY MOMENT I boarded the train, the rain stopped. Thank you to Si for a superbly nothing-based BaM, with loads of rubbish talked and weird experiences. I never want to see another courgette though. Mountains? Forests? Hah, ten a penny
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'Reg' (finally dried out)
7/7, 7/12, 42/42 ("BaM - the answer to life, the universe, and everything....")
, berry mix and chocolate until dark. Sleep came quick, but broke up with cold feet - i had a thin fleece bag inside my bivvybag, and despite merino longs and a lightweight gilet by 3 am it was getting a bit chilly - the breeze had at last got up. Extra socks on, re adjustment of bag and mat and managed a couple more hours fitful sleep.
It's hard to tell exactly what a cow is thinking just from the reflection of it's eyes in your helmet light but the general vibe I got from the heard gathered around the trig point is that they were there first and I'd have to go elsewhere. Having moved to the adjacent field plan B was just to stop at the first flat spot off the track.
Packed up in 10 mins, I didn't take very much with me, and away for the ride home, I decided to head cross-country as it was shorter. I rode down this section of trail earlier in the week on a proper off road bike, it was faster and more fun then but I survived it on the 'gravel' bike, but I wouldn't want a whole day of riding like that.
,but there's still a good few trips planned for the rest of the year 
On a course I’d taken the bike and blasted across the vast empty wastelands at blistering speed, turned around at kings lynn only to discover the fenland winds.