There’s a hill marked on the map,
and so we will have to climb up.
We need to follow the river along the valley,
so then we’ll be quite far down.
Let me see, there should be a church tower…
yes, on the horizon, over there…
which means that our path will go right then left twice,
and then another turn right.
Next to the fen marsh it will probably be a bit wet,
but the stretch along the beach should be sandy and dry.
That’s the car park, just in front,
so where’s the windpump?
Behind us, out of sight.
It is helpful to be able to orientate yourself in time and space,
and a comfort to know that everything stands in order,
in its rightful place.
Believe me, there is a problem
if you don’t know which way you should face.
I think I’m pretty good at this, so let me help you understand:
Left, right, up, down, in front, behind, parched or drowned,
the truth is that you must get to know
the lie of the land.
No, sorry, wait… It’s not quite that simple…
That hill I mentioned is only five metres above sea level.
It’s so low down that it can hardly be called a hill,
in fact it’s little more than a pimple.
The water in the river flows further down towards the shore,
which means that the valley is actually up above the sea.
When we reach the church tower, it won’t be over there,
it will be our here, obviously.
And when we follow the path back, we will take a left,
a right and after that we’ll go right then left again.
But it shouldn’t be too confusing,
because we’ll be on familiar ground by then.
This isn’t what I was expecting
from the map on the visitor centre wall.
I guess there’s been so little rain recently
that the marsh is bone dry,
and there’s hardly any water in the drainage channels at all.
The tide must be on its way out,
because there are shells and seaweed all along the shore,
and so the sand is salty wet.
Anyway, it’s been nice since we got away from the car park;
I was pleased to leave that behind –
all those cars and people made me fret.
So, where is the windpump?
Have patience, don’t get stressed.
Wait for it. Ready?
There, right in front.
Are you are impressed?
It would be helpful if I could orientate myself in time and space,
and comforting if everything would actually get in order,
into its rightful place.
I definitely have problem
when I don’t know which way I should face.
I thought I was pretty good at this,
but now things are getting out of hand.
Left, right, up, down, in front, behind, parched or drowned,
I’ve really been made a fool of here
by the lies of the land.
(c) Tim O’Hare, July 2023
About this poem: While staying in the Norfolk Broads during our summer holiday we drove out to the coast for a walk at Horsey Gap, parking the car near Horsey Windpump (a National Trust site). On the way there I had been amused to notice that features that were named on the map as hills were, in fact, only a few meters above sea level and the idea that such naming was a ‘lie of the land’ was born. The poem picks up on various elements of the walk which took in fen-land marsh, a beach (with seals swimming in the surf) and, of course, the windpump.
Tim O'Hare 