Day 2 Surfleet to Kate's Bridge

Surfleet to Kate’s Bridge

15 miles

At first I put it down to an overdose of the cheap Carling in the hotel last night.  The Surfleet church spire appeared to be leaning over at a very jaunty angle, seemingly wanting to topple over any minute. According to the information board it has been the fenland’s answer to Pisa for centuries and is perfectly safe. The foundations on one side of the tower have sunk, leaving the tip of the spire out of alignment by six feet (or nearly two metres if you are under 35 or work for the BBC).

The same information board also revealed that at one time Surfleet was on the coast, now it is twelve miles inland.

River Glen, Surfleet

The section walked today followed the banks of the River Glen. This river is somewhat different to most rivers in that it flows between retaining banks and runs at a height above the surrounding fields.

There was still a cold north easterly wind, but when the sun came out around mid-morning it changed into a fairly pleasant day.

The scenery was better too. I have left the marshes behind me and the fields of the fens stretch out from both banks of the river. Bushes are now a common sight and willow trees become more frequent.

I discover a series of bird boxes at regular intervals all along this stretch. They are perched on poles and were erected by the Hawk and Owl trust to encourage those birds to nest in the area. As is often the case with these things the hawks and owls did not get a look in when it came to acquiring these desirable residences. The local jackdaws appear to have organised a mass squat. They have completely taken over the manor and made it their own.

The fens have their beauty, but over to my left I have noticed in the distance eight of the great eyesores of our time. In the middle of this table-top landscape someone has seen fit to erect eight steel windmills. No doubt some will say that these are essential for our future but nobody has yet convinced ne that they are total uneconomic and a nasty blot on the landscape. If they are so essential why were only two of them turning?

There are two notable features of the River Glen that I noticed as I made my way upstream. Firstly that it becomes markedly narrower, which is not really surprising, but also that the difference in height between the river and the surrounding fields was gradually diminishing. By the time I had arrived at Kate’s Bridge the banking had all but disappeared.

Kate’s Bridge is not dedicated to a fair maiden as you might expect. Allegedly there has been a bridge here since early times and the name takes its origin from a Danish god, known as Kat or Catta depending on scholastic interpretation.

That’s it for today. Thirty miles have been completed, a mere 260 left. Time to sample the delights of Spalding and in the morning I will be off to the Georgian town of Stamford.