Sentimental journey

We had an interesting journey from Norfolk up to Yorkshire, travelling in a north-westerly direction, across the flatlands of Lincolnshire and across into Nottinghamshire. It was a journey I have only once undertaken, but for my wife and son this was the first time either had crossed such an interesting area of England.

We had all been to Yorkshire on several previous occasions, but the journey up from Kent is relatively straight forward - M25, M11, A14, A1 and then the more local bits, depending on which part of the county we are visiting, so for all of the route we followed on Monday provided the perfect example of just how varied  and contrasting our country can be.

The route was quite simple, A47 from Dereham to Kings Lynn, and then the A17 all the way to just south of Newark, where we joined the A1. The Yorkshire section involved turning onto the M62 at Knottingley, and then the M606 towards Bradford. I didn't time the journey, or even clock the mileage, but we left Norfolk  just after 10am, and arrived at our hotel in Bingley some time after 3pm. This included a brunch stop, at a rather interesting place on the A1.

The initial stage of the journey along the A47 to Kings Lynn, was quite a familiar one, as just south of the town is the impressive Beers of Europe warehouse. This enterprise offers one of the largest selections of bottled beers in the country, and has therefore been a fairly regular stop on numerous visits to Norfolk. But once we had crossed the bridge over the Great Ouse, and turned onto the A17, we were straight into the flatlands of the Fens, and on unfamiliar territory for the other members of the Bailey family.

It was an immediate and quite dramatic contrast to Norfolk, a county which is nowhere near as flat as many people think, and this was brought home to is as we  headed out across the Lincolnshire flatlands. Apart from the fields of cabbages and brussel sprouts, the majority of the harvest had been gathered in, leaving the landscape looking quite bleak and bare. What seemed to be missing was the almost jet-black soil I associate with the Fens from previous visits travelling south towards Ely.

The A17 is a major north west-south east highway, and if ever a road needs to be upgraded to dual-carriageway, then this is one of them. There was a substantial amount of freight moving in both directions and this, coupled with the inevitable agricultural traffic, restricted our speed to an average 50 mph. With few villages or other signs of human habitation, the totally flat landscape seemed to go on forever,

I have to admit that there was some more pure nostalgia  behind this trip, as it was not the first time I have made this journey. Thirty four years ago I travelled the same road in reverse. I was a twenty-something student at the time, living in Manchester, and was on my way to Norwich, to spend the weekend with an old school friend.

My pal was studying at the University of East Anglia (UEA) in the city, and was expecting me sometime that Friday. We had purposely left the arrangements loose, as our only form of communication back then was by letter. There were obviously no mobile phones in those days, and furthermore, neither of us had access to a landline, so we relied on an element of trust that everything would run to plan.

On a whim, I decided I would hitch-hike for as much of the journey as possible, so on a bright and sunny, but rather cold early spring morning, carrying a rucksack and armed with just a Bartholomew's Road Atlas and my thumb, I set off, bound for Norwich.

My journey took me across the Pennines, via the M62, and then in a southerly direction. I can't remember the exact route, but I do recall travelling via both Chesterfield and Worksop. I also travelled in a variety of vehicles, including a couple of lorries and the odd van, but it was the final leg of the journey, along the A17 and A47 trunk roads which relates to our recent trip.

This section was also the most memorable, as I hitched a lift all the way from the outskirts of the town of Sleaford in Lincolnshire, to the section of the Norwich Ring Road, where UEA was situated. This was all thanks to a gentleman in a sports car, who was travelling in the same direction as me and kindly took me all the way.

As we sped across the flatlands of Lincolnshire and into Norfolk, we passed through a number of picturesque villages, and even a few towns, as the A47 hadn't been improved at all back in those days. This was not only my first trip along this route, but my first visit to Norwich.

Now, 34 years later, I was travelling along that very same route; albeit in the opposite direction. To crown it all, and in a moment of real serendipity, as we approached the outskirts of Sleaford, I recognised that very same roundabout where all those years ago, I had thumbed that lift to Norwich.

I have perhaps spent a little too long on this diversion from the main narrative, but I wanted to include that piece of serendipity, so last Monday, by the time we reached Sleaford, the flatlands of the Fens had already given way to more hilly country, and this contrast only increased as we approached the town of Newark.

It was just north of here that we turned on to the A1 and headed more or less directly north. We were feeling hungry by this time and were on the look out for a suitable place to eat. Both wife and son remembered an American Diner style establishment somewhere along the Great North Road, and sure enough it wasn't long before son Matthew spotted a sign for the OK Diner.

We turned off the road and pulled in to the retro-styled  restaurant. It was great inside and we were soon seated at a table and contemplating the menu. I went for a brunch type bloomer of fried egg, bacon, sausage and hash brown, Mrs PBT's opted for a bacon sandwich, whilst son Matthew, hungry as ever, chose the mixed grill.

Suitably fed and watered we continued on our way. The traffic was heavy in places, with rather too many lorries for my liking, but we still made good progress, thanks in part to the fine weather.

I won't go into too much detail of the last leg of our journey, but we turned off the A1 at Knottingley, and headed in an easterly direction along the M62. As we approached Bradford, the terrain became increasingly more hilly, and once we'd navigated the city's "delights", we headed towards Shipley;  finally arriving at the Premier Inn, Bradford North Bingley. 

This has been our base for the past few days, but tomorrow morning we will be travelling across North Yorkshire, for an overnight, coastal stop at Bridlington.