Washed out at The Wash

Well it has to be said that my visit to The Wash was something of a damp squib.  Not in a disappointing way; it was just that it poured down. And it was so grey, heavy, gunmetal grey.  The rain inevitably had an impact on the views but it was still possible to experience the desolation, the sense of endless horizons, of being in a timeless landscape.  The salt marshes had limited accessibility but I spotted sea lavender and sea purslane, their green grey foliage evidence bathed by tidal waters as they struggle to exist in the hostile, saline environment

 

The Wash...at last

I'm heading to what has been described as the back of the back of beyond tomorrow. I've long since wanted to visit The Wash area of East Anglia as although I have been to the Lincolnshire Coast near Boston, the flat sea bank along the Cambridgeshire Fens holds a particular fascination. Despite my declared love of the hills, the wide open sea-scapes of the flat lands, with endless horizons, expansive skies and restless waves also prove to be a temptress, not merely as an echo of my childhood on the Fylde coast but a window into my own nomadic soul