Suffolk-ing boring

Don't bother

Mike Morgan
Nowhere

After our high point of charging up Brown Willy (tee hee) on New Years day, we thought we’d keep the momentum going with another county hill. One that I ashamedly had not completed yet, despite planning the route when I first began this challenge: Suffolk.

Suffolk route

So two weeks into the New Year we made the short drive from Cambridge to the little village of Hawkedon. We knew from the outset that this probably wasn’t going to be the most exciting run, but we literally had nothing better to do on this crisp Sunday morning in January. We parked up next to the village pub (Hawkedon btw is very pretty), and headed out along the footpath, hugging the side of the ploughed fields. The only other brave souls out that morning were a family with their scruffy border terrier. A dog so friendly that he decided to join us on our run, until his somewhat embarrassed owner managed to catch up with him, mud and wellies flying in every direction.

Suffice to say that was were the memorable moments ended pretty much. We meandered across fields, stumbled over stiles, and commented on the general lack of features and landmarks of any particular interest. Sorry if you’re reading this and you’re from Suffolk, but damn, the countryside is boring round there. We ran across a few more fields, and eventually emerged onto a wide farm track, where a couple of hundred meters to our right was the highest point in Suffolk; not that we could see it of course. The only discernable feature was a large radio mast surrounded by a small copice of trees. We trotted up the lane past the radio antennae and came around the bend on a small country road. We had hoped that there might be something to mark such an auspicious location - obviously we were going to be disappointed. We wandered along the lane until we were roughly stood on top of where the highest point appeared to be from our GPS location. Flat in one direction, flat in all directions. We took some photos, hopeful that we had reached the dizzy altitude of 128m above sea level.

What a view

Summit selfie

We retraced our steps for 500 meters and carried on down the wide concrete rutted farm track. After a mile or so we came across a series of man-made lakes, spread out in a line across several tiers. These had apparently been made by the land owner many years ago for his family to enjoy. Now it seemed they were largely occupied by ducks and a couple of swans. We wound our way between the lakes, and along a small track at the bottom that would eventually take us to what appeared to be an old (not Roman) moat. Sadly the moat was no longer visible, nor the remains of the earthworks around it, but there is a very nice house. Past this house we continued down over a small footbridge, making a horseshoe as we tracked back southeast along the bottom of several fields, a babling brook on our left. Because I can’t read a map properly, we prematurely ran up a small rise to the top of the field, only to realise that we had not quite reached the end of the fields. Back down we went, and across a few more boundaries, before we came across the blindingly obvious driveway that took us up onto the road. A short hop down here, and across the final few fields we emerged down at the bottom of Hawkedon, which had come alive in our absence (which means the pub was now full). After stretching out, we decided to forgo the usual celebratory pint and head home for a nice hot cup of Yorkshire tea.

Suffolk profile

It’s done. I think I’m going to compile a list of county hills I would run up again, and the ones that I wouldn’t. This is going straight to the top of the list, I’ll leave it as an exercise for the reader to figure out which list I mean.

Ta ta for now.

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