Prologue – Medical updates: (1) John’s affliction on the last walk was indeed a virus (non-COVID) which has affected several members of his family. However, along with those other members, he seems to have made a full recovery and, following a rigorous 3 to 4 hour fitness test over the hills around Gretton a week ago, he has confirmed his place on today’s starting grid. (2) Mike’s hip operation has been brought forward a few days to the middle of this week. Indeed, it transpires that he is having his pre-op COVID test today.
John and David drive from David’s house to Wickford station where they join Ben and Gary on the early morning train from Liverpool Street to Southminster. The last few days have seen long queues to buy petrol/diesel throughout the country and service stations running dry, not because of a fuel shortage but because of a shortage of tanker drivers to deliver the fuel. Fortunately, the cab driver who meets us at Southminster station has a full tank. Whilst he seems relatively relaxed about the situation he does admit that, if it doesn’t improve during the next few days, he may have to limit his jobs so as to ensure that he’ll be able to fulfil some airport bookings at the weekend.
It takes about 15 minutes to get us back to Bradwell Marina and we set off from outside the Marina Bar at 9:10 which is our earliest first day walking start time since we left South Haven Point ten and a half years ago (the first noteworthy point of a day which proves to be full of them). It’s not too long before we are back on the raised grass banks to which we have become accustomed during our journey along the Essex coastline. The heavy rain which was forecast for this morning, and which greeted us on our arrival in Southminster, has stopped…..but only temporarily. It returns soon after we pass Bradwell Power Station and make the turn to approach the seventh century chapel of St Peter-on-the-Wall (apparently still in regular use) and is accompanied by a very stiff breeze from the west. To add to the bleakness of the weather, the 10 mile stretch ahead of us, southward to the mouth of the River Crouch, has been described in a book which Ben has acquired on Essex coast walks as “not only the remotest part of Essex but also one of the most isolated areas in southern England”. However, any concerns that we are about to face one of our more challenging days prove to be groundless. First, the underfoot conditions are excellent – the paths along the grass banks are flat and well mown. Secondly, contrary to our recent experiences of this part of the country (and therefore second noteworthy point of the day), the entire route takes us more or less in the direction of our destination. Thirdly, the rain doesn’t last much more than 90 minutes. And finally, although the stiff breeze persists, there are paths running along the bottom of long stretches of the grass banks which are also well mown and are easily accessible. It’s therefore possible to get some measure of cover from the wind when needed.
As a result, we make very good progress. After 3 hours, we’ve completed just over 9 miles (slightly more than half of our planned journey for the day) and, in a relatively sheltered spot several miles from anywhere, we make a 20 minute stop for lunch. It’s not wholly unknown for us to pause a while for refreshment: indeed, as recently as 3 months ago, we spent 15 minutes at the Naze Tower snack bar. But what qualifies this stop as the third noteworthy point of the day is that it was pre-planned and is self-catered – or, more accurately, catered by David and John who have provided tongue bagels (with home made chutney), pieces of apple pudding, and fruit. Duly refreshed, we continue south and, about 4 miles later, make the turn west towards Burnham-on-Crouch. We pass a huge stack of hay bales by a path leading to Holliwell Farm, and the fact that this is the only point where we could have finished the walk earlier than planned had the going proved tough, prompts an inconclusive conversation upon the correct spelling and derivation of the phrase bale (or bail) out. It’s also around this stage that John for the first time expresses doubts over the prospects of us achieving his objective of getting as far as Tilbury by the end of the year. Indeed, he even suggests that we may need to recognise this by taking things a little bit more easily during the next few days of walking! (NB This is not a direct quote, but more than deserves its place as fourth noteworthy point of the day.) Shortly after this, our small peleton starts to become somewhat fragmented. David’s pace increases and the rest of us seem to be spending more time on comfort and re-shodding breaks. As we approach Burnham, John, Ben and Gary have regrouped, but David is nowhere to be seen. He is finally found at 3:30 sitting at a table by the river outside our overnight stop, Ye Olde White Harte Hotel, having arrived there 20 minutes earlier which has given him the time to order and drink a pot of tea. The rest of us decide that cider/beer in the bar is a more refreshing option, and this whiles away another 45 minutes before we check in, book a table for supper at 6:45 and are directed to our rooms.
We reconvene in the bar at 6:15 – Ben having been the only one of us to venture away from the hotel in the meantime and explore the delights of the town. He’s also ordered a bottle of white, and what proves to be the first of two very good bottles of Shiraz. The White Harte seems to be a popular place, both with locals and with visitors who are staying there. It’s run by a woman called Victoria who took over the business from her uncle who had taken it over from Victoria’s grandfather. She’s clearly very efficient and hardworking, and likes a bit of a chat. She owns a young dog which is rather lively and is called Gilbert, after her father….named John. You had to be there. (His second name was Gilbert.) And her kitchen produces excellent fish, chips and mushy peas – or plaice, French fries and salad for David. After this, everyone decides to have or share a starter which Gary was originally thinking of ordering in its more customary position. This causes Victoria some astonishment, and she doesn’t appear totally convinced by the idea that the Welsh Rarebit (but not the whitebait or the cockles) could be regarded as the equivalent of the cheese course. She is less astonished later when David orders a sticky toffee pudding and John and Gary decide to share a slice of her home made cheesecake. It’s also marginally less astonishing that no stickies are ordered, but the fact that we’ve had a three course meal certainly qualifies as a fifth, and final, noteworthy point of the day.
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