Cromer Promenade

We were walking back from the Lifeboat house at the end of Cromer pier earlier this year when something on the cliff wall caught my eye. It looked like a slightly stunted arched window or even a doorway through the flints. Where could it lead? We wandered along the beach towards the lifeboat museum and I forgot about it. I kicked myself when I remembered the arch the next day. I looked online to see if I could find out anything about it but to no avail.

The window in the cliff came back to me more recently as I considered what might count as a curious corner for a blog. Regular readers will know that I settled on quite a broad definition that could be fairly described as 'whatever I happen upon' but I resolved to return to Cromer to investigate soon.

It was Halloween the next time we were there and the clouds blackened accordingly. The last time we had walked the promenade, huge waves were crashing against the thick, curved concrete walls, showering onlookers with sea spray. This time the waves gently lapped onto the beach.

Like any coastal town Cromer benefits from the sea but is also characterised by the steps that it takes to protect itself from it's extremes. A huge storm in 1836 destroyed much of Cromer's seafront and prompted efforts to bolster its sea defences including the tiered flint walls that I was looking at from the pier.

The pier itself was built around 1900 to replace an older one that had been damaged beyond repair. The walls that the waves smash against were refaced as part of a major regeneration project from 2013-2015 following another major storm.

I climbed the ramps that lead from the pier up to the top of the cliff. Looking back out to sea, you could better appreciate the view of the wavy lines formed by the shallow steps leading to the pier and an inlaid compass that was added in 2005 to celebrate the proud history of Cromer's lifeboats.

I couldn't find any sign of the window. There was a large noticeboard which was still just about legible despite the raindrops. It describes the compass, pier entertainment, the grand Hotel de Paris that sits above, the rebuilding after 1836 and the lifeboat museum. To my frustration though, there was nothing regarding the arch that I remembered. At least I thought I remembered. 

I decided to retrace my steps from that earlier visit so I descended to the pier. The clouds were clearing and the sun shone through creating a rainbow which my photo here doesn't really do justice. I squinted back through the haze toward the wall. For a moment I thought I must have imagined it. I changed my position slightly and suddenly it made sense.

I climbed back up the staggered path. There was an eerie light as the late sun shone in patches across the beach and the hill beyond.

"Could you see it?" my family asked when I got back to them. Sheepishly, I explained that there was no window and that what we had seen was just the silhouette of the noticeboard. To their credit no one tried to throttle me and we wandered off into the town centre to do normal things.

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Holes by Mercury Rev.