Had a walk around Thruscross Reservoir in the Washburn Valley last week and I’ve got to say I always find reservoirs, especially where villages, buildings and a way of life have been drowned, just a little bit eerie.

To see roads, farm tracks, walls and even fields disappear into the dark waters is surreal. Fortunately for wimpish little me, the water was high so I didn’t have to witness the sight of a spire of some long forgotten church or the chimney stack of a poor parishioner’s 200-year home jutting out of the blackness.

What’s worse, back in the mid-sixties they had to dig up all the bodies from the churchyard and plant them somewhere else. Ugh.

There’s a section of an old textile mill edging into the water and it feels strange that a place that once contained so much energy and life should now be in such a sorry state. I wonder why the builders of the reservoir found it necessary to leave this remnant?

Thankfully there was lots of wildlife to keep my mind otherwise occupied… greylag geese honked and barked to each other across the shores, birds sang in the woods and rabbits scattered on my approach. Nature has always supplied something more palatable than Man ever could.

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