Chapter X: Hickling Broad

[Picture: Decorative drop capital] Heigham Bridge is a small stone one, with not much room to get through, and a little above it is the railway bridge, over which the Eastern and Midlands Railway runs, with a station not far off--Potter Heigham. Near the station is the "Falgate" Inn, where there is comfortable accommodation. A gate hangs over the inn by way of a sign, and on its bars is inscribed the following--

"This gate hang high
But hinder none,
Refresh and pay
And travel on,"

The omission of the _s_ in the third person singular of the verb is truly Norfolk, and common even among the middle classes. At the bridge is the "Waterman's Arms," where one or two bedrooms, and a small parlour, all scrupulously clean, are obtainable. Just by the bridge, in a sort of wooden "Peggoty's Hut," lives Applegate, who has good boats, sailing and rowing, for hire, stowed away in a remarkably neat boat-house. The fishing all round is as good as it can be, and I never fail to get a jack near the bridge, while, within four miles lie Hickling and Somerton Broads, Heigham Sounds, and Horsey Mere. For myself, I should prefer this as a fishing and boating station, to any other, because of the wildness of the district.

[Picture: Hickling Broad]

The tide ebbs and flows strongly; and I caught Wynne standing on the bridge, and looking in a perplexed way at the rate the perfectly fresh water of the river was running up stream. The exit of these waters--at Yarmouth--was twenty miles away, by water; Heigham Bridge is only between four and five miles from the sea, in a direct line, and the water was now running eastward, towards the sea, and the lakes, which daily rise and fall, though only a few inches, actuated by the salt tide, "so near, and yet so far."

"Verily, this is a strange country," said Wynne, "and not, I should think, beyond the possibility of a sudden visit from the sea."

"No, those light-coloured mounds in the distance are the sea-banks, of sand, only held together by scanty marram grasses. We will pay them a closer visit."

We got the lateener through the bridges, taking sufficient things for a night's absence, and sailed away up the Thurne, which seems now to lose its name as a river, and take that of the "Hundred Stream." About half a mile above the railway bridge is the mouth of Kendal, or Candler's, Dyke, a narrow winding stream, up which we turned, soon to find ourselves bordered by tall reeds on either hand, and then sailing through a wilderness of water and reeds so tall that they bounded our view. This is Heigham Sounds, now greatly overgrown, and a capital place for wild fowl; also for rudd, which here attain a very large size, and go in immense shoals. Out of the channel the water is extremely shallow. In the channel, particularly in Kendal Dyke, I have caught a good number of pike.

The fishing on all these Broads--Hickling, Horsey, and the Sounds--is nominally preserved, but fair anglers do not seem to be interfered with. At all events, in the channel and the dykes one may pretty well do as one likes, and no attempt has ever been made to set up an exclusive right to the rivers. I note that a Fishery Preservation Society has been formed to abolish illegal netting, and to overlook this district, and under the auspices of this it is probable that riparian owners will not object to anglers taking a share of the superabundant fish out of the Broads. I call the fish superabundant advisedly, and will adhere to the term until anglers can assure me that they know what to do (usefully) with the number of fish they catch, and cease from throwing them away on the bank, after ascertaining their weight and number.

[Picture: Dyke at Potter Heigham]

Well, we sailed as close to the wind as we could--and nothing goes closer than a lateener--and could just lie the channel through another reedy lake, called Whiteslea, on to the vast expanse of Hickling Broad, a lake 400 acres in extent, and looking three times as large, owing to the extreme lowness of its shores, the absence of any landmarks, and the great concave sky, which seems to fit close down all around it. A channel across it is marked by posts, which we left to starboard, as we sailed over it. The width of the channel you will have to determine by experiment, as there is no guide. At a guess, it is twenty yards wide, and all the rest of the Broad is so shallow that you might wade over it, and find a hard, yellow, gravel bottom almost everywhere. Trusting in our two-feet draught, we sailed hither and thither, and felt our way checked, as the keel cut through masses of weed, and then the bound forward, as the boat entered a part clear of weeds. These bunches of weed have lately increased greatly in Hickling Broad, which used to be comparatively free from them, and the promontories of reeds are pushing themselves further and further into the lake, and the bays between are getting shallower. Still, the lake is large enough, as yet, to be able to stand a little filching from.

We sailed down to Catfield staithe, on the western side of the Broad, and not far from Catfield railway station, on the line already alluded to. Then we went to Hickling staithe, at the north end, where there is an inn, the "Pleasure Boat," and walked into the village to post letters, and to receive some.

Boats of a rough kind can be obtained here for fishing purposes. They are long, narrow, and flat-bottomed, and the usual method of propulsion is by "_setting_." The setter sits in the extreme stern, and pushes the boat along with a light pole, at a great rate. There are often setting races at local regattas, and great fun they are.

[Picture: Hickling Staithe]

The number of broken-up lateeners on the shores of the Broad attest the decay of large pleasure-boat sailing on these remote waters, but the smaller class of centre-board boats are coming into favour, and are, perhaps, more suitable.

After lunch we had to reef the great foresail, which was not an easy operation, as the reef was taken in along the yard, and we had to go into the jolly boat to get to the end of it. The jolly boat committed a joke its species is very fond of, under similar circumstances; that is, it slipped away from under one of us, and left him clinging to the yard, with his legs in the water.

[Picture: Martham Broad]

I shall never forget three days I spent, on Whiteslea and Heigham Sound, for the fishing and fowling, one December with a friend. I stayed in the little cottage on the small island in Whiteslea. We had two boats and two men to attend to us during the day, but at night we were left to ourselves in the lonely house, where the water oozed through the floor, and the beds were so damp that I slept completely clothed in my oilies. There was a bitter north-easter sweeping over the dry reeds under a leaden sky, and the sport was of the slowest. I never felt the cold so much, accustomed though I am to winter pike-fishing.

[Picture: Decorative chapter header]