Good crack checking out new waters - literally

It's a fair old walk - the best part of a mile - to the sprawl of lagoons and creeks between the current sea wall and the coastal defences that were breached by the great floods of 1953.

Most of these waters, which came about more by accident than design,  look less than appealing, with great slabs of concrete jutting out and a lack of trees or any marginal vegetation. But some do contain coarse fish,  while at least one allegedly held pike in the not too dim and distant.

I fancy a go up there, just for a change. Maybe even try for bass off the beach, but have a few chucks here and there along the way. Long walk, but you can't really get lost in the dark on the way back as long as you follow the floodbank.

I snap a few pictures, thinking this might be an enjoyable way to waste an evening when the tides are right. Moving to adjust my viewpoint, I slip on a step and come down heavily on my left foot.

There's an audible crack and I'm in agony. The long hike back to the car takes most of the morning. That's me done for walking anywhere else until I get whatever I've just broken fixed. Not good, bearing in mind most of the waters I'm planning to start my season on are a fair old walk with all the kit, even it that's still a few months away.