I was in Chichester this morning.
It’s a charming little city, one that’s not unlike Norwich in many ways. Which, of course, is something I thoroughly approve of. Narrow streets, ancient city walls, cobbles and a Cathedral. It’s all there.
The only thing missing is a river. Norwich is made all the more photogenic by the River Wensum which curls its way through the city in the same unhurried manner that matches the spirit of the folk that live there. It doesn’t dominate the city in the way that some rivers do but its always there, ready to catch the corner of your eye in an unexpected fashion when you least expect it, a dozing cat rather than an excitable spaniel.
Little wonder that, whenever I am able to head home for a few days, I swiftly make for Pulls Ferry, parking myself on the wooden bench there and reconnecting with my home, taking time to reset my heart to the place and pace of life where I feel more at ease than anywhere else on the planet.
Pulls Ferry at night. Tolkienesque (Alan Harley/geograph)
What is it about water that has such a magical effect on people?
We love to sail and swim. On it or underneath it. If we’re not close to it, then we want to be. As children we are beguiled by puddles, as adults we are, more often than not, captivated by the idea of a waterside property. I’m guilty as charged there. I’m working towards purchasing a houseboat, a modest but treasured get away for me in Norfolk, a place where I can beat a grateful retreat to whenever I need to get some writing done, a haven where I won’t be disturbed…
…but who I am kidding, I’ll just spend all of my time sat on the deck gazing down at the water. I won’t get a thing done. But you’ll be very welcome to join me there for a glass of something and some quiet contemplation when the day comes.
Science has, as always, an explanation for why water makes us feel good. Seeing or hearing the sounds of moving water triggers, I am assured, a response in our brains that induces a flood of neurochemicals. These chemicals increase blood flow to the brain and heart, which, in turn, induces a state of relaxation.
Bring. It. On.
The Wensum has always been, for all of its mellow qualities, a busy river. It’s full length is only around 46 miles. This doesn’t even merit it a place in the thirty longest rivers in the UK, so here’s a quick question for you, and don’t go to Google-which is the longest?*
Yet, for all of its relative modesty, size wise, it still boasted fifteen water mills along its length as well as, in Norwich alone, a dozen bridges, one of which, Fye bridge, is said to be the oldest river crossing in the city. It has a colourful history too, the infamous site of a ducking stool for the exclusive use of lawbreakers and the general undesirables of the time.
Fye bridge in Norwich (Evelyn Simak/geograph)
You don’t, of course, need to be in Norwich to enjoy the Wensum. If, like me, you enjoy spending some time at the utterly splendid Pensthorpe Natural Park near Fakenham, you can witness the river in its rather more youthful state, views and images of the English countryside there that are as bucolic as any you will find in the whole of East Anglia.
The young and still relatively innocent River Wensum flowing through Pensthorpe (Pauline E/geograph)
If there are some Elysian Fields where I may end up at the end of this life, then I wouldn’t mind spending eternity in the company of that scene and the surrounding countryside.
So yes, my secret is out. I love rivers and, in particular, Norfolk’s very own River Wensum. It is neither mighty in aspect or stentorian in character. Yet for all that, it has an air of calm and beauty about it that is utterly captivating.
So much so that I’m going to write a book about it. Which, all being well, will be available in 2023.
So you never know, that tall chap you see at the edge of the water down at Pulls Ferry next time you’re there, camera in one hand, notebook in the other…and a look of pure and utter calm on his face just might be me.
See you there…
(*The UK’s longest river, coming in at a length of 220 miles, is the River Severn).
Lovely little river - and a chalk stream in its upper reaches. New Mills is a tragedy. We still have migratory fish using the Yare and a bit of the Wensum {actually I think the river is improperly named. The Wensum should run from Fakenham, through Norwich to the sea at Yarmouth, leaving the Yare to flow into it at Trowse}. However these migratory fish - and I mean Sea Trout and salmon (Old Salar hisself) get to New Mills and can get no further. What a fine thing it would be to install a fish ladder at New Mills and drop a few salmon parr in the Upper Wensum. Thames Water did it for a PR stunt near Reading in the 1970s. Why not today on the Wensum? The Fine City would impress many guests if they sat in the sunshine, supping whatever they fancied and suddenly there were leaping salmon in front of their eyes. So much more civilised than pink elephants.
But looking backwards, the Wensum provides little hints of its historic importance. It changes name at Trowse Hythe. Hythe of course, is an Anglo Saxon word meaning landing stage - as in Rotherhithe.