Eddie and I were beginning to get along. I’d been unsure at the start – he wasn’t my usual type: portly, grumbling, quite hard to handle. But once I got used to his moods, I softened. As we journeyed together, through bright sun and pelting rain, via Broads and beaches, I came to like him a lot.
Eddie, named after St Edmund, last King of East Anglia, is a 2014 Land Rover Defender: “One of the last old Defenders off the line,” owner Isobel Finbow explained when we met at King’s Lynn train station. “The new ones look like Playmobil.”
With his fat tyres, rooftop tent and classic styling, he looked ready for the African savannah. However, I would be driving him around the wilds of Norfolk and Suffolk.
Isobel and her husband Mark have kitted Eddie out with everything a camper might need – from binoculars and road sweets to stoves and bivvy loo (a pop-up potty I prayed I wouldn’t have to use). They’re renting him out for the first time this year. They’ve also just created the EA350, a road trip route around East Anglia that favours backroads and links the best bits. “You can wiggle about, explore,” Isobel said, as she handed me a hot-off-the-press map and Eddie’s keys. “He’s fun,” she added. “Enjoy him.”
And so he was. Once beyond the town’s one-way system and off the A-roads, Eddie and I were soon bouncing around Sandringham’s rhododendron-lined lanes and through village after village of comely brick and flint. The weather turned atrocious but Eddie lapped it up, splashing through puddles like a gleeful child, waves spraying cinematically over his sides.
The rain was disappointing, as this was supposed to be an out-in-nature sort of trip. The EA350 has partnered with wild “campsite” portal Wild With Consent, and I planned to stay at three of its sites en route. These secluded patches of private land have minimal – possibly no – facilities. But you have the permission of the landowner to be there, and as they only take one booking at a time, a scenic spot all to yourself.
My first pitch was at Manor Farm, near East Winch, where I spent a damp night with cows for neighbours and no bathroom – unless you count the private lake. I took an atmospheric dip in the morning drizzle, before heading off, having decided to start with RSPB Snettisham, where I walked along the Wash, watching oystercatchers peep above the mudflats.
My plan for the day was to follow the EA350 around Norfolk, tracing the north coast before veering towards the Broads. The highlights came thick and fast: the quayside Crab Hut at Brancaster Staithe; immense Holkham Beach; Wells Harbour; cute Stiffkey. Eddie was a large lad, so my stops were partly dictated by where I could easily park. Fortunately this included St Nicholas church, Blakeney, where I climbed the 137 spiralling steps up the tower for one of Norfolk’s best views: to the windmill at Cley, out to Blakeney Point, across the salt marshes.
Eddie and I turned inland, whizzing through touristy Wroxham to one of my favourite parts of the Broads. Roads barely a size up from footpaths, overhung with trees and ticklish with cow parsley, lead me between Salhouse, Ranworth and South Walsham – I grew up around here, but it was nice to show Eddie.
It was great to take him on the Reedham Ferry, a dinky, chain-hauled vessel that offers the only crossing of the River Yare between Norwich and Great Yarmouth, saving 30 miles. On the two-minute journey, I learned the ferryman’s full medical history (“I’ve nearly died four times!”). As we’d say, Normal for Norfolk.
I was almost in Suffolk now, but not quite. Campsite two, at Lily Meadow, was still north of the Waveney. I had my own field – half-mown, half wild – and the excellent Wheatacre White Lion. After a delicious pub dinner I popped open my tent and laid looking out at the big, sunset-blush skies.
The next morning I had a mission. Having had no bathroom for a couple of days, I needed a wash. Legendary writer and wild-swimmer Roger Deakin would have advised getting into the Waveney – his preferred spot – but I opted for the heated water of Beccles Lido instead. The pool, built on the riverbank in the 1950s, was a lovely way to start the day – I felt revived. And was revived further by breakfast at nearby Etude Coffee, an incredibly cool café in a post-industrial grain silo.
Eddie and I had another good day. We parked up in Covehithe so I could walk through Benacre Nature Reserve to the cliff-backed beach, only accessible on foot. And we had a lovely time in Aldeburgh, where we parked right outside the Harris & James ice cream parlour; I bought a cone and wandered the pebble strand.
The highlight, though, was my final campsite. Maple Farm, hidden down leafy lanes near Kelsale, is an organic farm producing spelt and wheat, an array of fruit and veg, and free-range eggs. Catherine Supple met me at the on-site shop and café; she showed me the loo I could use, then led me past the chuckleberries and rhubarb to my spot, out of sight, near a pond, in an orchard. Idyllic.
I fired up Eddie’s wood stove and fried mushrooms and asparagus in butter. I had a glass of wine, listened to a symphony of birds, watched the light fade. Then I climbed up to bed, and was about to zip the flaps and go to sleep when I saw a light in the distance. A building of some sort? No, the moon – rising, massive – perfectly framed by the tent door.
East Anglia might not be Africa, but Eddie and I still had quite the wild-ish adventure.
Staying there
A three-night off-grid self-drive East Anglia 350 Experience, including Land Rover Defender camper hire, costs from £875 via Wild With Consent (wildwithconsent.com).
More information
