Walk 54 -- Gravesend to Tilbury Fort

Ages: Colin was 60 years and 98 days. Rosemary was 57 years and 240 days.
Weather: Very hot!
Location: Gravesend to Tilbury Fort.
Distance: 1½ miles.
Total distance: 337 miles.
Terrain: Ferry boat, then concrete prom.
Tide: Coming in.
Rivers to cross: No.13, the River Thames.
Ferries: No.2 across the Thames from Gravesend to Tilbury; cost £2 each.
Piers: None.
Kissing gates: None.
Pubs: None.
‘English Heritage’ properties: No.17, Tilbury Fort.
Ferris wheels: None.
Diversions: None.
How we got there and back: We packed up our camp near Rochester and drove to Gravesend where we managed to park right by the waterfront – 4 hours for free! We walked a few yards along to the ferry.
At the end, we walked back to the ferry terminal and crossed back over to Gravesend. After a couple of cups of tea from our flask, we drove home to Bognor.

We started today’s walk by crossing the River Thames on the ferry from Gravesend to Tilbury. At last we are in a new county, our fourth – two thirds of our Round-Britain-Walk so far has been in the county of Kent, the other third in West and East Sussex.As we boarded the boat, Colin remarked that if it was supposed to take motor bikes as well as cyclists and foot passengers, he couldn’t see how they got the motor cycles on board. He asked the ticket collector, who told him that they had ‘only just got these boats’ and that they were ‘working on it’. Later that day we discovered, by talking to people we met, that the ferry had been closed for some months because the previous Company had gone bankrupt! It had only just reopened, and the boats they were using were old ones from the Gosport/Portsmouth ferry – originally green but now painted blue. Looking at the shape of the ferry-boats, we could see that it was true – for we know the Portsmouth Harbour ferry well. It seems we have been very lucky, we had enough of redundant ferries adding to our mileage on the Isle of Sheppey!
At last we were crossing the River Thames! As we stepped off in the county of Essex and turned right at the shore end of the wooden jetty, it was with a spring in our step that we started walking away from London! Having said that, Tilbury didn’t look much of a place. We climbed some steps and found a footpath along the river side of a high wall – that’s better! Then we saw a fully restored Thames barge sailing past towards London – it was a beautiful sight!
We came to Tilbury Fort, and found, to our delight, that there was a path alongside it on the river side so we didn’t have to divert round it. (That wasn’t clear on either of our maps.) We turned inland down some steps to visit the fort, because it is an ‘English Heritage’ property, and it was actually open! We took the tape tour which was quite interesting – but we much prefer ruined castles and monasteries. This is what the ‘English Heritage’ handbook says about Tilbury Fort:
“Tilbury Fort is the finest example of 17^th century military engineering in England. It is largely unaltered even after the latest reconstructions carried out in the 1860s. Designed by Charles II’s chief engineer, it was built as a low-lying and largely earthen construction, designed to withstand bombardment at a time when artillery was the dominant weapon. Today, exhibitions, the powder magazine and bunker-like ‘casemates’ demonstrate how the fort protected the City. You can even fire an anti-aircraft gun.”
Well, the carved entrance that we were told (on the tape) is a ‘must-see’ was covered in scaffold and you had to pay extra to fire the gun, but it was quite exciting going into the powder magazine and the ‘casemates’ – underground passages dug into the earth. When we climbed up on to the ramparts to look at the guns, the view over the river was indeed magnificent. Then we found a swallows’ nest which was a lot more interesting than all this history because we could just see the babies’ heads peeping over the edge! To tell the truth, it was too hot and we were tired, so we called it a day.
We decided to walk an extra quarter of a mile to the edge of the power station. We passed some wasteland which seemed to be the local dumping ground for stolen cars because a number of them had been abandoned there. All but one had been burnt out. Later, as we left Tilbury Fort to return home, the police and fire brigade had been called because some louts had just set fire to the one! Tilbury isn’t much of a place.
We reached a high stile by the power station just as a group of children and their father cycled up with fishing gear. We asked them what they hoped to catch, and they replied, “Mullet, and loads of crabs!” They seemed pretty excited as they hauled their bikes over the stile and pedalled off to fish by Tilbury Power Station – perhaps it’s the warm outlet water that is the attraction!
We climbed to the top of the stile.

That ended Walk no.54, we shall pick up Walk no.55 next time at the stile on the western side of Tilbury Power Station. We returned to the ferry point and crossed back to Gravesend along with an elderly Belgian couple who were riding very odd-looking bikes – they were leaning back on them with the pedals in the air! After drinking tea from our flasks, we drove home to Bognor mostly along motorways. (When we stopped at Clackett Lane ‘Services’ we saw a huge rat in the car park – it was as big as a cat!!)

Walk 53 -- Cliffe Creek to Gravesend

Ages: Colin was 60 years and 97 days. Rosemary was 57 years and 239 days.
Weather: Too hot for walking!
Location: Cliffe Creek to Gravesend.
Distance: 6 miles.
Total distance: 335½ miles.
Terrain: Grassy river banks, and latterly on roads and paths through industrial sites.
Tide: Coming in.
Rivers to cross: None.
Ferries: None.
Piers: No.12 at Gravesend, but it was closed. (We couldn’t get anywhere near it because they were rebuilding the forecourt at the shore end – in fact we had to walk right out into a busy road in order to get past!)
Kissing gates: None.
Pubs: The ‘Jolly Drayman’ in Gravesend where Colin enjoyed ‘Summer Challenge’ and ‘Nimmos XXXX’, and I had a shandy because I was so thirsty.
‘English Heritage’ properties: No.16, Milton Chantry in New Tavern Fort, Gravesend – but it was closed!
Ferris wheels: None.
Diversions: None.
How we got there and back: We drove – with bikes on the back of the car – from our campsite near Rochester to Gravesend where we parked in a ‘long-stay’ car park near the waterfront. We cycled back to Cliffe along ‘cycleway 1’ which was miles in a dead straight line on the level (it turned out it was the original towpath of a long-defunct canal) and well away from any traffic – it was really pleasant! We locked our bikes to a post opposite the row of cottages where we parked yesterday, and walked a mile out to the end of Cliffe Creek.
At the end, we checked ferry times to Tilbury, went to the ‘Real Ale’ pub in Gravesend, had a look at the Pocahontas statue, and returned to our car for a cup of tea. Then we drove to Cliffe to retrieve our bikes (in the dark again!), and when we had them strapped on the car we drove back to our campsite near Rochester.

It was the middle of the afternoon before we started today’s walk because we were so tired after yesterday. We had eaten our lunch in Gravesend, seated by the river, and then we had cycled to Cliffe and walked a mile to Cliffe Creek. We climbed over the stile and proceeded along the other side of Cliffe Creek until we were out on the Thames Estuary again. There were gravel workings to our left. We turned a corner and passed Cliffe Fort which looked as if it could have been of Napoléonic vintage, but I expect it was used in the Second World War too. Sixty years on, it is redundant and neglected. In fact, we couldn’t get anywhere near it for the brambles, barbed wire and DANGER – KEEP OUT notices.
The next mile or so felt rather strange because we seemed to be ‘walking on water’! To the left of us were disused gravel lakes, to the right of us was the Estuary, and we took a wiggly path between. It wasn’t very easy because the way was strewn with rubbish, and prickly weeds grew about three feet tall. We don’t think many people go that way! Suddenly we turned sharply to the right, and the path was open grass. From there on it was easy walking all the way to Gravesend.
Further on we passed another fort – well, this is the coastal route to London and needed to be defended in years gone past! Shornmead Fort looked much the same style as Cliffe Fort, was just as abandoned and neglected, but it was more accessible. We climbed through one of the ‘windows’ and found quite a lot of the brickwork was preserved although it had no roof. It was a fun place to explore, and we found evidence that it is much used for picnics and barbecues.
We could see Gravesend ahead of us, and we began to meet a lot more people – fishermen, dog-walkers, cyclists and so on. A trio of young people had jogged out from the town and were doing ‘pull-ups’ using the high bar of a fence. We were amazed that one of them did sixteen in quick succession! His friends couldn’t manage more than about four. The Thames had narrowed to less than a mile by that point, and the Essex side looked very industrial – which didn’t cheer us up any.
As we approached Gravesend, it became quite industrial on our side of the river too, and it wasn’t very clear where we had to leave the wall we were walking along and turn inland. When we came to a blank creeper-covered wall across our path, we knew we were no longer on the ‘right of way’ and had to go back a few yards repassing some people’s back gardens.
We had about half a mile walking along roads and paths through the industrial section – very narrow in parts with brambles drooping down across our faces – but we knew the way because we had cycled it earlier in the opposite direction. We emerged by some lock gates on a bridge over what used to be the entrance to the Rochester Canal which no longer exists. The lock gates now lead into Gravesend Marina. We turned a corner, and we were in some very pleasant gardens alongside the river. We sat on a bench to eat a snack and drink some water. It was already evening.
We had found out from a friend – who lives in London – how Gravesend came by its morbid name. When the Black Death swept the country during the fourteenth century, the City of London victims were buried on the southern shore of the River Thames to keep them away from the survivors. There were so many of them, their graves stretched all the way to the place we now call ‘Gravesend’! Apparently, modern society wants to change the name to something less macabre – but they can’t do that, it’s history!
We climbed steps into the New Tavern Fort Gardens behind where we were sitting, in order to visit the ‘English Heritage’ site, Milton Chantry. This is a small 14^th century building which housed the chapel of a leper hospital and a family chantry. However, not only does it close at 5pm, but it is never open on a Tuesday (which is today!) The building later became a tavern, then part of a fort, and now it is public gardens where youths were dangerously kicking a football so we had to be very careful not to get hit. We had a look at some of the guns and tanks which are permanently on display there.
We continued west, trying to hug the shore, but found we were in a pub garden and couldn’t get out! It was not one of Colin’s ‘real ale’ establishments, so we retraced our steps to go round it and walked along by the shore again. We came almost to the pier, but they were refurbishing the forecourt so we had to walk right out into a busy road to get round it – there was no way we could get on to the pier. Opposite the ferry terminus, we diverted a few yards inland to look at the statue of Pocahontas in a churchyard.
Pocahontas was a North American Indian born in the British colony of Virginia, in America, at the end of the 16^th century. She was the daughter of a powerful inter-tribal leader, and was only a child when she befriended the colonists who had settled in Chesapeake Bay. Hostilities often flared between the colonists and the indigenous people, and Pocahontas is said to have saved the life of the leader of the immigrants, a Captain John Smith. He had been captured by the tribe who wanted to decapitate him – but just as he was laid upon the stone, thirteen year old Pocahontas threw herself upon him embracing his head. She successfully persuaded her father to spare him, and he was released.
For the next two years she managed to keep the warring factions apart, but then Captain Smith returned to England and relations between the Indians and English deteriorated. Captain Samuel Argall, who now led the colonists, kidnapped Pocahontas hoping to use her to negotiate a permanent peace. She was treated with great respect during her months of captivity, and was persuaded to convert to Christianity – the very first North American Indian to do so. She was ransomed by her father, but meanwhile she had fallen in love with one of the colonists, a man named John Rolfe. Surprisingly, both her father and the Governor of Virginia (Sir Thomas Dale) agreed to the union, and they were married in a Christian ceremony. The Indian ‘princess’ charmed everybody she met, so Sir Thomas decided to take her and her husband to England as an advertisement for the London Company of Virginia.
In London she was received at Court, and very quickly became a celebrity. Everyone in ‘society’ wanted to meet her. However, she was homesick for Virginia, and decided to return. She was about to embark on a ship at Gravesend when she became ill – she had contracted smallpox to which she had no immunity. Although she was only twenty-two years old, she died very quickly and was buried in the church just a few yards from the quay. That church was destroyed by fire about a hundred years later, and, although it was later rebuilt, all trace of ‘Princess Pocahontas’ had disappeared.
Her son, Thomas Rolfe, was educated in England, then he returned to Virginia where he became a leading citizen. Jamestown, Virginia, was established in 1657, and, in recognition of her efforts to bring peace between the two communities, a statue of Pocahontas was sculpted to grace an important position in the town. Three hundred years later, the people of Jamestown celebrated their tricentenary by presenting Queen Elizabeth II of England with a Chalice and Paten. About a year later Her Majesty gave these to the church at Gravesend, and at about the same time a replica of the statue of Pocahontas was unveiled in the churchyard by the Governor of Virginia.
We photographed the statue. Then we went down to the wooden quay to find out the times of the ferry to Tilbury in Essex – a mere half a mile away across the River Thames.

That ended Walk no.53, we shall pick up Walk no.54 next time by taking the ferry across to Tilbury. We went back into town to find ‘The Jolly Drover’ (our ‘real ale’ pub!), then we picked up our bikes from Cliffe in the dark and returned to our campsite near Rochester.

Walk 52 -- Allhallows to Cliffe Creek

Ages: Colin was 60 years and 96 days. Rosemary was 57 years and 238 days.
Weather: Mostly sunny and very warm.
Location: Allhallows to Cliffe Creek.
Distance: 13 miles.
Total distance: 329½ miles.
Terrain: Cornfields, then miles of grassy river banks – sometimes on top of the sea wall where we had a pleasant breeze and could see ships steaming up and down the Thames, and sometimes behind the sea wall where both view and breeze were obscured.
Tide: Coming in, then beginning to go out.
Rivers to cross: None.
Ferries: None.
Piers: None.
Kissing gates: None.
Pubs: None.
‘English Heritage’ properties: None.
Ferris wheels: None.
Diversions: No.19 just out of Allhallows where the sea had breached the path along the coastal edge of the marshes, and the channels were too deep to cross. No ‘FOOTPATH CLOSED’ or ‘DIVERSION’ notices were in place, so we had to navigate our own way through cornfields adding at least 1½ miles to our journey!
How we got there and back: We drove – with bikes on the back of the car – from our campsite near Rochester to Cliffe where we wasted a lot of time looking at various possibilities for parking. In the end we parked at the end of the real road by a row of cottages where I had originally intended. Then we cycled 9 miles back to the caravan site at Allhallows where we locked our bikes to a tree.
At the end, we walked a mile along a track from the end of Cliffe Creek to our car. We watched the sun set as we consumed two cups of tea, and by the time we arrived back at Allhallows it was dark! We walked down through the caravan site to retrieve our bikes, and when we had them strapped to the car we drove back to our campsite near Rochester.

Today would have been my parents’ 70^th wedding anniversary – if Dad had lived to be ninety-six and Mum had lived to be ninety-one! But Mum has been pushing up the daisies for seventeen and a half years now, and Dad for eight years, I can hardly believe it has been that long! I think Dad would have been very interested in this venture – it’s the sort of thing he might have embarked on if he had had the opportunity.
We started today’s walk by eating our lunch! With a fourteen mile hike ahead of us, it was ridiculous to be setting out at 2.30pm! But you try urging Colin to get a move on when he is not in a mind to, and he definitely wasn’t in a mind to this morning! By the time he had had his shower, we had washed up last night’s crocks, bought our lunch at ASDA, queued on the M2 (we thought that way might be quicker than driving through Rochester, but there had been a minor accident), explored every possibility of parking around Cliffe (I had meticulously planned it all before we came, but that wasn’t good enough) and ended up parking exactly where I had planned in the first place, taken our bikes off the car and were ready to ride – it was gone midday. The nine mile cycle ride along back lanes to Allhallows was very pleasant – there seemed to be a lot of gentle downhill – and we both agreed it was the most enjoyable part of the whole day.
We sat on the first bench we came to in the caravan park and ate our lunch, then we started walking. We passed a man sitting on the sea wall, and he asked where we were going. I told him we were intending to walk all the way to Cliffe, and he answered, “You won’t get far!” He explained that there were deep channels about half a mile ahead leading from the beach into the marshes. “I tried to get through last week,” he continued, “but I ended up waist deep in water and had to turn back!” That was all we needed! – he was telling us that our way was obstructed by deep water when we were already very late! I showed him the public footpath marked in green on my map, all along the shoreline without a break. “That’s as maybe!” he said, “but I think you will find the marshes have been breached at Dagnam Saltings and that your way is blocked. Maybe you’ll get through at low tide, I don’t know.” (We had missed that by a couple of hours!) We thanked him for his information, and said we would go and have a look at the situation anyhow. “We’ll just have to walk round!” I said, more hopefully than I felt. “Maybe you’ll find a way through!” was his parting shot, “but the farmers don’t like you walking across their fields!”
He seemed so determined that we couldn’t possibly walk through to Cliffe, it just made us all the more determined that we would succeed! The caravan site seemed to go on forever, then we walked away from civilisation along the top of a sandy beach. Our friend was right – the way was blocked by a deep channel of swiftly flowing water which was much too wide to jump over. The tide was coming in fast. We walked along the stream looking for a place where it might be possible to cross, but there was no path and the undergrowth got thicker until progress became impossible. Colin forged ahead, and got to a point where the ditch joined another channel in the marshes. He called back that there was simply no way we could get through at all. What annoyed us most was the fact that here is a public right of way, yet nowhere did we see any sign saying FOOTPATH CLOSED or DIVERSION or anything.
We studied our map, and I worked out a route round that particular bit of the marsh which would add another mile and a half to our hike. We really had no choice – late as we were, neither of us wanted to abort the trip as it would have meant returning to our bikes and cycling the nine miles back the way we had come. Then we would have it all to do another day! No way!
We retraced our steps to the western corner of the caravan site, and followed what looked like a sort of path leading inland against the fence.
We passed the end of a drainage ditch which ran parallel to the coast, and looked along to see if there was any possible path we could take – but it was very overgrown and there was simply no way through. We continued inland on an illegal but well-trodden path through a hayfield which led us to a lane. This took us to a tarmacked road, then a track through cornfields about half a mile inland from the coast. We were quite a few contours up, and had lovely views of the Thames Estuary which was some compensation – not much, but some! After about a mile, we were able to turn right along a sunken track, and actually had to go back on ourselves a bit to regain the coast path beyond Dagnam Saltings. We had wasted an hour and a half, and we still had a very long way to go!
Fortunately, the path from thereon was a raised river bank with short grass which was very pleasant to walk on. We took up our ‘Quick-March’ attitude, which meant we covered the distance but didn’t stop to look at anything that may be of interest – like wildlife. There are acres and acres of ‘empty’ marshes along this north side of the Hoo Peninsula, and Britain’s ‘expert’ planners have earmarked it for London’s fourth airport. It is going to be three times the size of the present Heathrow Airport (the world’s busiest) and have no less than four runways! Three hamlets, along with their ancient churches, are going to ‘disappear’, and the noise and traffic are going to affect numerous other villages and towns. All the local populace is up in arms, as are the Dickens Society (Charles Dickens once lived in Cliffe and was inspired by the mists on the marshes), English Heritage, and a number of wildlife and countryside trusts. Protest meetings have been organised all over the place – we saw their posters up in every community we passed through. We wish them luck – Heath Row was once described as follows:

“And soon the road gives way to Heath Row, though that place is little more than a few cottages and the village pub, The Harrow. There are two fine old farms in this village, both are on the right of the road; the first, notable for its large stackyard, is Heathrow Hall on the old maps, and the second farm, a little further on, reminds me strongly of one of those delightful old farmsteads met with in the Weald of Kent minus the oasthouses… In Heath Row are some old cottages… which might be in the heart of Devonshire, for their antiquity, their picturesqueness, and lonely situation. Very few people ever see them, for so few go along this road, which leads only, and by a roundabout way, to Stanwell, which is far easier to reach by other routes…”

These words were written by a man called Gordon Maxwell in his book Highwayman’s Heath round about 1930, a little over seventy years ago. Just look at Heathrow now! What hope has the Hoo Peninsula against such mighty planners?
We came to a place called St Mary’s Bay, which just meant that we had three sides of a rectangle to walk around instead of a straight line. The path deteriorated a little – but worse than that, it went down behind a high wall which blocked off not only the view of the river with all the traffic thereon, but the slight breeze which had been keeping us sane on this warm and sultry afternoon. In other words – it was hot and boring! Colin couldn’t take it, and went back on to the top of the wall to walk. It was very narrow and uneven – I would never have coped with it, and even he admitted that he had to look at his feet all the time in order to not come a cropper. Occasionally it got too narrow and he had to come down, sometimes it got quite wide and smooth so that I could walk up there where it was cooler and more interesting.
We got to a place called Egypt Bay where, according to our OS map, we had to make a half mile detour inland to get round some marshes – but we were relieved to find that they had built a grassy bank straight across, so we ‘trespassed’ on it and took the shortcut! Every so often there was a ladder over the sea wall, so we climbed over one of these to sit on the riverside for a snack and a rest. It was impossible to walk on that side – big boulders – so we had to climb back over to continue for miles and miles and miles and miles and miles!

The Essex coast got nearer, but looked very industrial which was depressing. There were quite a few ships ploughing up and down the Thames. If we were walking down from the sea wall, we couldn’t see the river and the ships looked as if they were ‘sailing’ along the top of the wall – very odd! (Or perhaps we were just slowly going insane, who knows?)

As we turned south at a bend in the river, we noted a large number of Second World War type ‘pill-boxes’ on the marshes to our left. I suppose they had to defend the Thames, but I pity any troops who were stationed at that desolate spot.
On and on we marched – I was on ‘auto-pilot’ and I think Colin was too. The sun was quite low in the sky when at last we reached the end of a track, the first connection to civilisation since we had joined the sea wall from our diversion back at Dagnam Marshes all those hours ago.
There was supposed to be a line of ‘coastguard cottages’ there, according to our OS map, but there was no sign of them and later I noticed that they were missing from the internet map which is more up to date. We squeezed through a fence, and spoke to a man standing there because he was the first human being we had met since the doom-laden man at the caravan site had told us we wouldn’t get far! This man was amazed we had walked all the way from Allhallows – probably thought we were daft! (Are we?) It is certainly a walk neither of us will ever do again! He quickly turned the conversation to the impending airport, it seems to be on everyone’s minds around here. He said there was a protest meeting in a few days time, and he was certainly going along to have his say!
We now had a track to walk on, and it was quite muddy in places, but we still couldn’t see over the wall! It was so frustrating walking along next to the river and not being able to see anything. We passed a jetty, but it was barbed wired off, then the track turned inland to go alongside Cliffe Creek – still annoyingly behind a high wall! We had both run out of water by then, and were gasping for those flasks of tea in the boot of the car! We spoke to another man out walking his dog (the place was getting quite populated!), and his topic of conversation was the proposed airport. It is going to drastically effect the lives of so many people if it goes ahead.
The track was blocked by mounds of earth which were not easy to scale, especially in our tired state. Our new friend told us they had been put there to stop local youths abandoning stolen cars on the marshes and setting fire to them – the bane of our countryside in this 21^st century. At the end of the creek we joined up with the ‘Saxon Shore Way’ which we had last left just past Hoo Marina (it takes an enormous short-cut across the peninsula, missing out miles and miles of marshes). Almost immediately, it led over a stile on to an overgrown footpath.

That ended Walk no.52, we shall pick up Walk no.53 next time at the end of Cliffe Creek where the ‘Saxon Shore Way’ leads over the stile. We had to walk another mile across the marshes to where our car was parked outside some cottages at the end of a real road. We thirstily downed two cups of tea whilst watching the sun set in a blood-red sky to the west. By the time we had driven back to Allhallows it was quite dark. There was a security guard on duty at the entrance to the caravan site, so we parked outside and had to walk down to the shore and wheel up our bikes. We then had quite a distance to drive to get back to our camp the other side of Rochester, so we ended up cooking in the dark and eating very late – not good for the digestion!

UPDATE:
A couple of years later Cliffe was let off the hook when Stansted, in a vastly expanded form, was 'chosen' to be come London's third airport. It wasn't any environmental considerations that led to this decision, nor the results of any protests that were made. It was simply the location. Cliffe is the 'wrong side' of London, and access by road and rail would have been difficult because the Thames Estuary was blocking the way. Good old Thames Estuary! We considered it a horrid place and wished never to return to it, but it's very existence had at last done some good for the people and wildlife that live there.

Walk 51 -- Grain to Allhallows

Ages: Colin was 60 years and 95 days. Rosemary was 57 years and 237 days.
Weather: ‘Fair-weather’ cloud and quite warm. Location: Grain to Allhallows.
Distance: 4 miles.
Total distance: 316½ miles.
Terrain: Roads, followed by a skirt round the edge of an army firing range (along a grass bank where we had to negotiate three unfriendly fences), then grassy river bank.
Tide: In.
Rivers to cross: None.
Ferries: None.
Piers: None.
Kissing gates: None.
Pubs: None.
‘English Heritage’ properties: None.
Ferris wheels: None.
Diversions: None, because we avoided an eight mile diversion by walking one mile across private land.
How we got there and back: We drove from Bognor to Allhallows and parked at the end of the road leading to the marshes. On seeing how near the oil refinery at Grain looked from there and noting from the map how far it was to get to Grain by road, we decided to change tactics. We didn’t know if it was possible to get around the Army range, and if we cycled the eight miles by road only to discover we couldn’t walk through the one mile of private land, we would then have to cycle eight miles back without achieving anything! So we padlocked our bikes to the car and walked to Grain along the river banks – in fact, we did the Walk in reverse. That way we were also able to ‘recce’ our route around the range.
At the end, we walked through a caravan/chalet site and back down the road to our car. After a cup of tea, we drove to the campsite near Rochester which we had used back in June, and there set up our tent.

Several things have happened to cheer us up since we last walked seven weeks ago. Yes, we still miss Bolly (the cat) but we have had time to get used to her not being there any more. Colin has had further medical tests to make sure the cancer has not spread to his bones, and we are fully expecting negative results so it will only be the prostate gland which is the problem. At the end of June we went to Slovenia with our friends from the B.L.I.S.T.E.R.S. (Boldly Leading Intrepid Stomping Traipsing Ever Rambling Society – or – Blatently Loony Idiotic Senile Tottering Eccentric Rumbling Souls – or – whatever!) Tuesday walking group, and behaved ourselves disgracefully for a whole week! We had such fun in that beautiful part of the world, and the cream cakes were something else!

Then, in July, it was Paul and Caroline’s wedding which was also a fun event. They got married in the ancient village church in Alkborough, North Lincolnshire. It was magically rural – Caroline walked to the church on her father’s arm, with Kelly-Marie and Sarah (Caroline’s sister) carrying her train. Afterwards, Paul and Caroline walked back (with bridesmaids carrying her train again) along the street to the reception in a beautifully decorated marquee which incorporated the garden pond! Dancing carried on into the early hours, and we all had a wonderful time!
So we were in a much better mood to tackle this last boring bit of the North Kent coast, and were determined to get to Gravesend or bust! I must admit that the problem of the Army range had been constantly on my mind, but the obvious solution didn’t occur to me until we were parked in Allhallows eating the first half of our lunch and idly looking out over the marshes towards Grain. As we walked along the bank of Yantlet Creek, we noted that (a) the Army were not firing today, and (b) a number of local yobs were racing up and down on motor bikes all over the range on the other side of the river. We walked as nonchalantly as we could along the mile of private land, and not a single person accosted us or even noticed that we were trespassing! We ate the second half of our lunch sitting on the concrete steps above Grain Beach.

The walk ‘proper’ started from Grain Beach car park in the middle of the afternoon. We tried to have a quick look at Grain village church, but the door was locked so we couldn’t get in. A notice on the wall near the door said:

MAKE WAY
MAKE WAY
FOR THE KING

OF KINGS

We walked through the village for the last time, and up the lane towards Rose Court Farm. We had just passed the first – DANGER / MINISTRY OF DEFENCE RANGE / NO ADMITTANCE – notice when …… the strap on Colin’s rucksack broke! Panic-stations! There we were, trying to be as quiet and quick and discreet as possible skitting across the non public-right-of-way bit, and we were fully exposed to Rose Court Farm where a dog started barking fit to bust as soon as it sensed our presence! It seemed an age before Colin got the strap tied to his liking and donned the bag once more (he will insist on bringing the kitchen sink on every little walk!) Round the next bend in the lane we came across a car parked, and to our left was a small pond. Fishing! So that’s all the notice the locals take of the Ministry of Defence. Anyway, the lane led to a row of cottages which you could visit ‘at your own risk’, but we were not even going that far.
We turned off the lane to follow a raised bank which led us directly to a bridging point over Yantlet Creek. We had to climb through a wooden fence, and hadn’t seen the PRIVATE KEEP OUT notice when we had come that way earlier – so we pretended not to see it on the way back! Two more fences had to be scaled, one a single strand of barbed wire which we crawled under holding it up for each other, and the other was made of smooth wire and just about low enough to step over. The only living things that noted our progress along the bank were a group of horses in the adjacent field which came over in the hope that we had something tasty for them to eat.

We passed several notices telling us we were on the fringe of a firing range, and that we would be in extreme danger if we took so much as one step to the right. About a quarter of a mile over to our right, we watched a jeep leave the row of cottages – where people seemed to be living quite happily without being blown to bits – and drive along the track to the creek. (We thought it was probably their short cut to Allhallows.) When we arrived at the creek ourselves, the gate (which had been wide open when we had come that way earlier) was locked shut. It was a simple matter to climb over it, cross the bridge – and we were on a legal public footpath once again! Q.E.D! We felt a certain sense of achievement that we had ‘beaten’ the Army!
There followed more dull river bank walking with flat boring marshes to our left as we hiked to the mouth of Yantlet Creek. Just before we got there, we noticed what looked like a memorial stone down by the water. Intrigued, we leapt over some mud to go and read the inscription. It was dedicated to a young man who had died, and the stone had been placed there because it was one of his favourite places and he often used to come there – I mean, what a life! Flat marshland overlooking the Thames Estuary? There are fantastic views of the oil refinery at Grain to the right, an Army firing range ahead and amazing views of the oil refinery at Canvey Island to the left! Haven’t these people been anywhere?
After that bit of excitement, the path turned left so that we were once more walking along the Thames Estuary. The Essex coast looked very near (and very industrial!) and there was quite a bit of traffic on the river. We could see the village of Allhallows across the marshes to our left, and knew our flasks and tea bags were in the boot of our car parked just over there! We walked along to the first caravan site, and turned inland.

That ended Walk no.51, we shall pick up Walk no.52 next time at the eastern corner of the caravan site in Allhallows-on-Sea. We followed the public footpath inland through the caravan/chalet site and returned to our car which was parked where the road ran out. After a cup of tea, we drove to the campsite near Rochester which we had used back in June (the one by the motorway but with the lovely toilets!) and there set up our tent.