Overy Harbour

Gosh!
Scolt Head Island to the left and East Head, on the mainland, to the right, separated by the channel stretching from Burnham Overy Staithe out to sea. Fast ebbing tide.

I was very brave and faced the huge tribal groups walking down the bank to the sea. I put on my invisibility cloak of aloneness and was fascinated by how these groups, like geese, have their own group formations and loud announcements of their fly pasts. I had an acute panic attack as I was confronted by a sea of manically bobbing bobble hats in animated conversation. I haven’t been near anyone for a few days. The birds had lost their song and were stabbing silently at the mud recently exposed by the ebbing tide. I nearly made a run for home and my waders but the window of time and tide opportunities have moved on so I stuck it out on the sea wall. I am fascinated by how one person ceases to figure. I tried variations from tentative eye contact and a polite hello, to a more robust ‘hello’ regardless of acknowledgement. The sense of lack of existence is quite obliterating. I’m very glad I’m happy to be on my own; you need to be feeling quite robust in the face of the onslaught of repeated lack of acknowledgement. I thought of those on the streets. There was a palpable wave of self satisfaction, and wealth, that surfed its way down to the sea.

As I emerged from the boardwalk to the vast expanse of the Wash stretching uninhibited all the way to the Arctic, I watched one tribal group of 10 sat blocking the path to the beach and wondered how the tribal group of eight, behind me, would cope. At the last minute they strategically outmanoeuvred the situation and migrated off on to the track to right. I heard one say, ‘it’s busy, isn’t it?’

Thankfully there are then many miles of space and everyone is soon dispersed to a scattering of dots in the distance. As I walked round the headland there was a spectacular shaft of light. Not a soul on the island and the birds seem to have sought refuge on the sand bars. The silver light shimmered back across the bay where we scattered dad’s ashes and as the waters of Norton creek rushed to meet the fast ebb of Overy creek the two jumped together in a sparkling effervescence before rushing out to sea.