The Nod

It's very hot. I should be in the car heading home but I can't face it after the horrors of the drive down still fresh in my mind. After doing more sorting jobs I had thought of going back to where I went yesterday but realised I'd be pushing it. I decided instead to go straight onto the marsh and get some samphire.

But the island called. I should have ignored that siren call. Heading out from this end is the hard way. No one does it except for the occasional bait digger. I haven't done it since before my husband became ill, so for about 7 or 8 years. The old paths don't seem to be used any more and what were always faint tracks have been lost. The mud gullies are places where you could struggle to get out of if sucked in, the sands shift countless times and crossing Norton creek is always uncertain and any misjudgement of tide would make for a long stay on the 'wrong' side. I followed a footprint that I came across. Sandels are no good, I took them off and sank into the oozing blue black mud, sucked and lunged to the firm algae covered patches and then followed the line of ecological development, through samphire firm islands and across to the sands and the channel of the Nod, looked for sand bars and crossed over to the island itself. But then I struggled to find a route to the warden's hut and was being cut to bits by brush. I checked the time and knew I had to head back and that it would be foolish to press on.
This is the view across the Nod to Overy windmill in the far distance.