Like many things that seem too big for any single one of us to handle, or bring about change, we can often find it easy to turn a blind eye. Pretend it’s not our problem. Pass the buck. Demand action from leaders and politicians. It’s their job. Isn’t it? Especially true when that “thing” impacts on our need for leisure and pleasure. Two modern day “rights”.
Ensconced within the myriad of waterways, we forget about stately homes, pretty gardens, castles and cathedrals. Focus our focus on two more days in nature. Saturate ourselves while it’s still dry and warm. Turn our efforts into some wheel spinning. Go ride-about. Discover how really flat this area is. It is. Even less than flat. At one point, we reach the top of How Hill. My bike computer shows our elevation above sea level to be -27 metres!!! I knew we should have packed our snorkels. No wonder they express huge concerns about global warming and the rise in sea levels over here. East Anglia’s days seem numbered. Yet “tourism” still rules and is encouraged everywhere. Quieter roads, countered by busier dieseled waterways.
On planning a stay in this region I’d imagined the best way to experience the broads would be by boat. I toyed with the notion. But to jeopardise the theory of evolution and discard our MOHO-Sapiens stature, to revert to MOBO-Restrictus, even if just for one day, was unthinkable. What would Beastie think of us? In any event, we didn’t get it. It seems that all you get to see is the unending waterway ahead and high banks of reeds on either side.
Unless . . .
