The Broads are my
local wilderness. I love the landscape, the
wildlife and the slow waters. Under the wide skies I can be at one with nature;
re-imagine Jesus’ lakeside ministry; slow down and escape from our 24/7
lifestyle; all that’s needed to catch up with a 3 mile an hour God.
Long ago, on an island where three rivers meet, hermits established
a community. Following the example of Egyptian monks, the tidal marsh and reed
beds was their green desert! In time the community became a Benedictine monastery and, until Henry VIII’s reforms, St.
Benet’s Abbey was a powerful centre for the Christian faith. Still the abbey has a powerful attraction.
Wandering on foot or by boat, I find my eyes searching for
the familiar outlines of its ruined gate-house and scanning higher ground to catch
sight of church towers on the horizon. Higher
than most is the one they call The
Cathedral of the Broads - St. Helen’s, Ranworth
Visitors are invited to climb “89 spiral steps and two ladders” to see…
Traffic! It felt I’d been tailgated every mile of the way -
aggressive drivers in my rear view mirror and almost in my boot, pushing me to
go faster! Finally, at journeys end I parked by Moreston Creek and let the
tension drain out of me. It is a sort of
lands end! The North Pole is 2222 miles away and ,
apart from Blakeney Point, there’s nothing in between but sea and ice!
I thought I’d join holiday makers as they went out to see
the seals but when I’d arrived early the ferry still sat firmly on the bottom. Round about it long billed waders delved the
rich mud and a Little Egret stalked its
prey in the shallows pools. The liquid
trill of a Curlew’s call carried on the and on high Larks sang their hearts
Soon a trickle, had turned into a stream of water pushing into
the creek , lifting the grounded vessels and turning their bows to the flood.
With that the ferrymen quickly got their passengers aboard and we were
manoeuvring between the muddy banks and an honour guard of O…