Day 138 – West Mersea to Tollesbury: 18.6m: 7.5h

John has caught the early morning train from Kingham to Paddington. He joins Ben and Gary at Liverpool Street for the 9:30 to Colchester where Mike is waiting (having adopted a very snappy route from Newark via Peterborough and Stowmarket) along with David who is joining us for the next couple of days and has simply driven to Colchester and parked his car there. Also waiting is our cab which takes us back to West Mersea, and we set off from outside the Coast Inn shortly before 11 o’clock.

We’ve been fearing the worst weather-wise for the past week, and even today rain is forecast with sufficient certainty that flood warnings have been issued. Therefore, although it’s dry and there are no threatening clouds immediately in evidence, most of us are – somewhat pessimistically – wearing overtrousers and jackets. We make good progress during the first hour around the north-west shore of Mersea Island and over the causeway back to the mainland. We then turn right off the road having decided to take an indirect route to Peldon so as to avoid walking along the B1025 – a diversion which proves to be not only off piste but also overgrown. Our pace slows considerably because of this and also because the weather is becoming warmer and distinctly muggy. Some layers are removed, but the difficult underfoot conditions continue beyond Peldon, and in fact deteriorate when we approach Salcott 90 minutes later and have to practically hack our way along the side of a field with no discernible path in order to reach a farm on the edge of the village. Two men at the farm are able to assist in explaining why a path across the field hasn’t been maintained (“it belongs to the council”) but unfortunately can’t assist in replenishing our low to non-existent water supplies, which is becoming of particular concern to a heavily perspiring Gary who has, rather stupidly, not yet removed his overtrousers. This rather simple expedient to avoid overheating is belatedly adopted 10 minutes later outside the house of a local resident who kindly refills our water bottles. But by now the damage has been done and, whilst the green screens are not required, Gary’s condition is such that, as well as rehydration, it’s necessary for John to carry his rucksack to assist recovery. There is also a hat retrieval point, but no need to protract the story save to say that, 45 minutes later, as we start to walk around Old Hall Marshes, recovery has been achieved and the rucksack has been returned to the shoulders of its rightful carrier.

As with much of the previous 11 miles, most of the 7 miles or so around the marshes are along overgrown paths, and these have the added problem of a particularly prolific and clinging type of vegetation which an app on Mike’s phone identifies (with perhaps questionable reliability) as beet. This means not only that our pace continues to be slow – by now we’re averaging less than 2.5 mph – but also that any scenic attractions along the route aren’t readily appreciable because we’re having continually to focus on what’s a couple of yards in front of us. But eventually, around Old Hall Marsh Farm, the path becomes clearer with just a mile and a half to go which we complete in a far more creditable 30 minutes, arriving at the Tollesbury Sailing Club just after 6:20.

A slightly delayed cab gets us to our overnight stop, the Blue Boar in Maldon, around 7 o’clock and, whilst we’re having arrival beers/ciders at a table under a canopy  outside the bar, the forecast rain starts to fall. It’s not heavy, but it’s enough to prompt discussion about our eating plans. We intended to get takeaway fish and chips which the Blue Boar has told us can be brought back and eaten at our canopy covered table. We had hoped to get the takeaway from the neighbouring Friendly Frier, but that was closed when we passed it in the cab. The prospect of walking 10 minutes in the rain to the closest alternative, the Fish Inn, appeals to nobody. David provides the high-tech solution by downloading the JustEat app and ordering a delivery for arrival after we’ve been to our rooms to freshen up. And it all works very efficiently. The food arrives about 20 minutes after we’ve reconvened, almost finished another round of beers/ciders, and ordered a couple of bottles of wine having been told by the young woman at the bar that she’ll be shutting up shop at 9 o’clock. We stay at our outside table for half an hour or so after this, finishing our drinks and disposing of the considerable amount of detritus resulting from the Fish Inn’s very liberal interpretation of “small” chips. Somewhat weary and somewhat later than our usual bedtime, we then wander around the outside of the bar to reach a courtyard and the door leading to our rooms.