Morston is a regular haunt – I love that by walking only a short distance you reach a quietness that feels a million miles from the bustle of the little harbour and the continuous line of impatient cars along the coast road on a Bank Holiday weekend. It is a natural, untamed environment. As you walk out on labyrinthine, muddy tracks next to the creek the distinction between land and sea becomes blurred – it is a place on the edge – land for only half of the day.
There are signs of human activity at the start of the walk ….
…. and a little further on signs of the havoc caused by the tidal surge just before Christmas. This bridge was washed away as the sea rushed in, faster and higher than usual, destroying everything in its path ….
…. and here is the rather inelegant, but temporary replacement. The little mats on the lefthand side are so that dogs can walk over the bridge without their feet falling through the holes!
Posts punctuate the ever-present horizon ….
…. I like the ochre lichen on this one.
After a short while you can look out over Blakeney Pit – at low tide the mud is uncovered. In the distance you can just make out the old blue lifeboat station. This was the tip of Blakeney Point before the effects of longshore drift lengthened the spit of land.
There are miles of marsh and mud ….
…. and even though there are sounds and movement all around a sense of absolute stillness predominates.