Chapter XI: Horsey Mere and Somerton Broad

[Picture: Decorative drop capital] It was exhilarating work sailing over Hickling Broad, and we were very loth to leave its wind-swept waters. We had a rare run back along the channel, and over Whiteslea, and then turned sharp to the left, up the Old Meadow dyke leading to Horsey Mere. This dyke is a mile long, and of fair depth, but so narrow that people fishing on the banks had to hold up their rods as we passed, while our sail swept the tops of the reeds. Then we shot into Horsey Mere, a lake of 130 acres in extent, with a small island in the middle. It was very clear, and very shallow, the channel for wherries lying along the west side of it, into Palling dyke, which leads north-westward for several miles until it reaches almost to the sea.

The white sand-hills on the coast were plainly visible, and the thunder of the surf was audible, as the sea was but a mile and a half away. We did what nearly every one else does who visits Horsey in a yacht; landed at the east end of it, and walked to the coast, but it was too rough to bathe. These sand-hills form a very curious barrier between the salt and fresh water. They are steep and high, and make one wonder by what force of wind and waves they attained their present shape and dimensions, in so flat a country, and why the like forces do not dissipate them over the plain. Breaches have been made in them by the sea, from time to time, notably in the winter of 1791, when a very high tide made several gaps, and threatened to overwhelm the marshes inland.

"I like this Mere as well as any of the Broads," said Wynne, when we returned to the yacht. "It is so very still and lonely, and its quiet is in such contrast to the roar and unrest of the sea close by. Is the fishing free here?"

"No, it is supposed to be preserved, though I don't suppose anyone will object to our catching a pike for supper, if you wish. There are no pike like those in Horsey, the proverb says."

But the wind had fallen as suddenly as it arose, and the glamour of a fiery sunset shone over the silent mere. An occasional cry of coot, or duck, or splash of fish, and the distant sound of the sea, but emphasized the stillness around us. We sat on the cabin roof, and talked lazily, as the dusk came slowly on, and our voices were low, in unison with the evening hush.

"I do not wonder," said Wynne, "that you are so fond of these waters. An evening like this, in such watery solitude, makes a strong impression upon one."

Horsey Mere is only accessible by water. There is a railway station--Martham--about four miles off, but if you walked from there you could get no sight of the Broad without a boat, and boats are not procurable.

"What are these cushions stuffed with?" asked Wynne, as we lay down for the night.

"Horse-hair, I expect; but then age has made them hard and crabbed."

"Well, I think that the sleeping accommodation might be vastly improved in your Norfolk boats generally. Canvas cots or hammocks, air beds and pillows, would all be better than the thin cushions there are in the cutter. I sha'n't sleep to-night, for I have pins and needles all over me already."

And in five minutes he was snoring! One could sleep on a deal plank, or even on an oak one, after a few days and nights on the Broads.

We woke very early in the morning, and found that a brisk breeze had sprung up, and that the lateener had dragged her moorings and drifted into the reeds. She had taken no harm, for, short of being run down by a wherry, there are no dangers of shipwreck on the Broads, and you might drift about unmoored, for all the hurt there is likely to accrue.

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After a hurried breakfast we hoisted the foresail, and tore down the dyke into Heigham Sounds, across which we sped fast, throwing the shallow water into waves, which shook the reeds mightily. When we emerged from Kendal dyke into the main stream, we turned to the left, and in less than a mile reached Martham Ferry, which was stretched across the river while some wagons were passing across. This ferry is a large raft, which is kept in a recess on either side of the river, and floated across, reaching from bank to bank when required. There is no one to tend it, and if it happens to be on the other side, a wayfarer must wait until some one appears on the other side to get it across. It is a wonderfully clumsy thing to look at, and is not regarded with friendly eyes by the wherrymen, who run their wherries full tilt against it too often at night, or when, with the wind astern, they are unable to stop. One wherryman, exasperated beyond endurance, let his wherry go at it with all her force when running before half a gale, but only smashed the bows of his vessel, not moving the ferry a bit or injuring it, for it is heavily bound with iron to withstand such experiments.

We sailed to and fro until the wagons had passed, but a wherry coming up had to lower her sail in a hurry, and then struck the raft with great force before it could be drawn away. This jammed it diagonally across the river, and it was half an hour before it could be moved.

At the other side of the ferry, and at the mouth of a dyke, is a capital place for pike and large eels, and I can conceive of no better-looking pike place than the mile of stream between here and Somerton or Martham Broad. The water is deep and clear, with a stratum of lily leaves, about four feet below the surface, and here and there lilies on the surface. As we sailed over its glassy surface, not ruffled by the crossing wind, on account of the high reeds and grasses, we could see thousands of fish of all sizes darting away beneath us; and at the end of the main dyke, where it divides into two, is a deep, clear pool, with a hard, gravelly bottom, where there are any quantity of perch and large roach. It is the beau-ideal of a spot for bottom-fishing, but "fine and far off" must you fish, for the water, though deep, is passing clear. It is easily accessible from Martham railway station, and preferably from Potter Heigham, where, too, you could procure a boat.

The right-hand dyke leads to Somerton Broad, another reed-surrounded lake, possessing no particular merit. From Martham ferry we walked up a steep road to the village, lying around a broad green, and had we time we would have ascended the tower of the church, which is a conspicuous object for miles, and from which a splendid view of sea and lake is attainable.

In the church we noted a tablet to one Burraway, whose history is told there, but is too unpleasant to be more than referred to here.

After being so long on board a small vessel, one's legs become cramped and unfit for walking, and the walk to Martham and back, only a couple of miles, quite tired us, and we were glad to get back to our little craft. In half an hour's time we were passing under Heigham Bridge, and watching our man playing a seven-pound pike in the pool below. On the bank, by the cutter, he had arranged for our inspection a score of bream, from one pound to three pounds in weight, which he and another had caught early that morning and the night before.

Before turning our faces again towards Yarmouth, it may be mentioned that yachts may safely be moored to the bank anywhere above Acle, care being taken to avoid the obviously shallow parts.

In many places you will notice the eel-sets, which are fixed nets across the river for the purpose of intercepting the silver-bellied eels on their migration to the sea. These nets are only set at night, and there is a man in charge (sheltered in a rough sort of house-boat or hut), to lower the nets when craft are passing, so that they do not obstruct the navigation. Immense quantities of eels are caught in these nets, and it has been proved by an inquiry conducted by the Yare Preservation Society, that other fishes are not caught therein, and that the sport of the anglers is in no wise interfered with.

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