Thursday, 17 March 2016

The Wild Weir

Yesterday I visited a corner of Newark I haven't stepped foot in for a long time.

The helllish, muddy field we had to slog through 4 times during the marathon in November.

It was a mite less muddy when I ran through this second time, but it was still grim, grey, and ugly. The sewage farm smell wafted across the river, and the water had the feeling of being loaded with diseases. It roared over the weir, and the spray in the air felt toxic.

This was Newark's old industrial hinterland but without any Hovis advert charm. The boiler works and ruined buildings across the river are hardly Ironbridge Gorge, the rail bridge rattles, the wooden bridge is rickety in the face of the surging water. This is post industrial land left to rot, no-one is building here.

The bridges reflect symmetry in the water; the crows don't circle because there is nothing to eat.


All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 17.03.16

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