War and peace

The sign reads: “Wave bat for ferry,”. In a hurtling high-tech world, what a reassuringly simple means of communication. Especially for two 60-something grandads wanting to cross an estuary with their bicycles.

Summoning the River Deben ferryman is the quaint means of reaching the Suffolk Heritage Coast from Felixstowe, where they also know a thing or two about manoeuvring vessels through tricky waters.

It is Britain’s busiest container port, the skyline dominated by its 29 gantry cranes doing their considerable bit for the global economy. Tourism can seem a distant place from wharves stacked with tens of thousands of metal boxes. Not so. Around Landguard Point and the fort that repelled the Dutch in 1667 (the last attempted invasion of England) resides a genteel resort of pastel beach huts, modest amusements and Victorian and Edwardian villas above the prom where they have the perfect view of shipping’s equivalent of a motorway.

Felixstowe also claimed one of the seaside’s finest piers until the Second World War when fears that the Germans would try to emulate the Dutch led to the Royal Engineers demolishing much of the structure. It was never replaced and most of what remains is unsafe and closed to the public.

The war had another significant consequence for the area. The town was one of the few places bombed by the Italian air force during the Blitz. Not one of Mussolini’s smartest ideas, as the toll of downed aircraft confirmed. Didn’t Il Duce know that just across the Deben at Bawdsey, Arnold Wilkins, Robert Watson-Watt and their colleagues helped to win the Battle of Britain by developing radar in the converted stables and outbuildings of a manor house?

Exploring the coastline, and some of its intriguing military history, was one of the reasons for our Suffolk ride over a long weekend after taking the train from York to Bury St. Edmunds via Peterborough (£31 return with a Senior Railcard and bikes travel free).

It’s a fine county for a pedalling pensioner. Hills are few and designated cycle routes take you along narrow lanes flanked by hedgerows thick with wild flowers and birdsong. You pass vintage windmills and through charming villages and small towns. Signposts constantly tempt a detour to the likes of Creeting Bottoms, Shingle Street, Clopton Corner, and Shottisham, which is probably easier to say after lingering at the Moon & Mushroom Inn at Swilland

We took another ferry to reach Orford. This one relies on volunteers to row walkers, birdwatchers and cyclists across the Butley River. It’s the smallest licensed ferry in Europe – about 100 yards across at high tide – and has been providing the service since the 13th century. Today it costs £3.50 for a bike and rider, one way.

Orford, where Messrs Wilkins and Watson-Watt stayed whilst combating the enemy’s aerial power, has become a fashionable bolt hole for those with London-made money. There are inexpensive pleasures too. Among them the home-made sausage rolls at Penny’s Cafe, the 12th century castle, and the busy quayside from where you can take a boat trip to the enigmatic Orford Ness National Nature Reserve.

The remote shingle peninsula is as well-protected now by the National Trust as it once was by the Ministry of Defence. For most the 20th century it was used for top-secret military experiments – the Atomic Weapons Research Establishment had a base there – and much dangerous material remains. The Trust encourages visitors but its website warns of a nature reserve like no other, an “unforgiving” environment “littered with debris and unusual, often forbidding, buildings from a sometimes disturbing past”.

It was almost a relief to head inland to Framlingham and another castle, the one Mary Tudor was living in when she heard she’d become Queen. Down the street in St. Michael’s church is the tomb of Henry Fitzroy, Duke of Richmond and Somerset, and illegitimate son of Henry VIII.

Suffolk has more on the theme of the monarchy’s affairs. Prior to the abdication of Edward VIII who gave up the throne for her, Wallis Simpson was divorced by a court in Ipswich. Or, as one American headline writer put it: “King’s Moll Reno’d in Wolsey’s Home Town”.

Cardinal Thomas Wolsey became Archbishop of York and as Henry VIII’s Lord Chancellor is said to have had more power than any other Crown servant in English history, until his failure to secure an annulment that would free the king to marry Anne Boleyn. Wolsey was arrested at Cawood near York, accused of treason and died on the way to face trial in London.

His statue on the corner of Silent Street in Ipswich is not far from those of three other men who knew the triumphs and perils of serving England – Sir Alf Ramsey and Sir Bobby Robson, both of whom managed Ipswich Town as well as the national team, and Russian prince Alexander Obolensky, an unlikely rugby legend killed nearby in 1940 when his RAF Hurricane crashed during a training flight.

From their plinths they may all be reflecting on the changing face of Suffolk’s county town, now being branded as East Anglia’s “inspirational waterfront town centre”.

Behind the hype, interesting things are happening. The arts are flourishing, aided by the area’s connections with the artists Constable and Gainsborough, and the old port has been transformed by marinas and the usual mix of restaurants, bars, hotels and fancy apartments, but also the country’s newest university. The social changes might well have merited a commentary from someone who so enjoyed Ipswich’s river he changed his name to George Orwell.

We blamed dodgy signs for the one blemish at the end of our 130-mile round trip. It would have been easier to find Orwell’s pier in Wigan than the cycle track to the centre of Bury St Edmunds – “The nicest town in the world” in the opinion of William Cobbett, farmer, essayist and author of the classic Rural Rides.

www.visitsuffolk.com

For information about cycling by train visit www.nationalrail.co.uk