Part 2 To the Thames source and back, are you sitting as comfortable as before ?

The Thames Path, to the source and back continued.

Chapter 6

January 2011 the winter has not been cruel this year, in-fact it is so fine today I decide to venture East some more, and am heading towards Erith. First I pass more industrial waste lands, then come across natural wild lands, of grass, shrub and swamp.
This I walk across with the Thames to my left as it flows ever nearer to the North sea, green, grey with rich sediment, ever my companion. After two good hours walking, in which I found time to observe the mud wading foul in large flocks pecking away in the sediment as the tide has pulled out revealing the river floor at the edges. As well as picnicking in the luke warm sun wrapped up well against prevailing winds. I notice seaweed is very prevalent now, at low tide, making me think this more sea salted saline water than fresh river flow, as the great seas draw the Thames onward. I wonder where the demarcation of the two is?

Thames wide and deep

seaweed on rocks still the Thames

I hit a barrier, to stop me following the Thames for a while, that of the River Cray. It causes me to divert a long way in land, but it is a pleasant river, if wind swept. I reach a road where after half hour of winding through back streets on a housing estate, I manage to get a bus to a station for home. A short day of walking, only a few hours. But, yet, more miles worn away from my challenge, that to walk as far as I am able with the Thames as my guide.

River Cray joins the Thames

8th Feb at last I have caught up with myself, I am now writing in the present, rather than memories, mind you, everything is only a memory after the next second and the next, and the ;;;;;; !! of course that memory was way back in Feb, a short time as memories go.
I wonder, if we will ever able to unlock all of our memories at once and if so would ever second be there? every night dream, every awake experience, every word heard and spoken good or ill, every scene and drama ever seen with our eyes? Or will it be as now similar with our photo albums, those that we clicked on and locked in on for ever. Our memories are selective in what it wish to bring up to our frontal lobes, this leads me to think "So what else is sloshing around amongst those neurological cells, unbidden, hidden." Maybe everything! Maybe hardly anything! Having faded away, as fairy's do from lack of use and being called upon. I guess future mankind may find ways to unlock the secrets of our fabulous brains, even if they want to do that. For it would seem that many a persons brain is underused or so it would seem by the state of the world at times. Ha ho until then I shall have to just muse on what may be possible."Hey was that a fairy in flight just then, at the peripheral to my vision, ah tis gone I shall never know now."

Any way this Tuesday it is a wonderful day, weather wise it is a spring like day, warm, blue sky, there is no wind, just perfect for walking. I start from Greenhithe again. I thread my way past the houses to the riverside-bank, snip of a few photos looking west towards Queen Elizabeth Bridge, I walk on. The sun on my right shoulder the Thames to my left, I pass through a small park, past a number of fairly newly built flats to the end of where they abruptly stop, here I encounter scrubland with a line of electricity pylons, stepping like giants across it.

 There are high earth banks that I walk on, the tufted grass below my feet no doubt that hides all manner of creatures hidden from view. Up above I hear my first skylark of the year there continuous twittering song adds to the feeling that real spring is not too far away, in this field of grass set between sand extraction pits and housing, nature persists out of site unseen.

I come across an inlet or creek, a natural harbour of the Thames, here are a number of rusting or dilapidated boats, as well as some being renovated and in good condition all leaning against the mud of what was once a well used sanctuary. The wharfs and landing peers are crumbling or already fallen down. There are sheds or shacks, some whole some about to give in to gravity and weathering.
Although not as tall or grand, it all reminds me of the scenes of the harbour in the Pop-eye film, which stared Robin Williams a great performance live, of a once cartoon character.
I pass the time of day talking with a gentleman and his dog mending a vehicle, the man that is not his dog, he was just a sniffer and allow-er of me to go in peace, as well as one piece. The man told me I could walk as far as the sand pits then I would have to veer in land. I followed car tracks figuring if they could go somewhere so could my feet.

Coming to the end of waterside walking, I sit on a sandy foreshore to eat my lunch watching large ships ply their way up and down the river shuttling goods for commerce or passengers for fun and travel, as they have done for centuries. Just across the water Tilbury Docks are at work. The sun forces my coat off, the bottled water is delicious as fine wine, the cheese sandwiches are nectar of the god’s food, the birds are musical masters. I finish lunch then take the long haul up to Swanscombe a steep hill away. The day after tomorrow will be another day I shall continue east. 

inside pier at Gravesend

outside of pier 

Monday the 14th Feb 2011 not only Valentines Day, but also a beautifully sunny day for a further stroll along the Thames, East bound, I start at Swanscombe but it dose not offer the walker much contact with the Thames between Swanscombe and Gravesend. So I take a bus ride for a mile or two to pass industrial cement works and such and start the walk for real outside of Gravesend. A town to be discovered in more detail one day, for now I will tell you what I did discover has a lovely Town peer, even if you cannot always gain access, it has a delightful short promenade that looks out over the river.

Pocahontas 

 In St. Georges church lays the mortal remains of “Pocahontas” the North American Indian who married Thomas Rolfe; she was the daughter to the chief of the Powhatan Native Americans grouping, in Virginia. There is a fine statue to commemorate her in the grounds of St. Gorge’s churchyard, just opposite the tourist information office. There is also New Tavern Fort where gun emplacements may be seen complete with cannons, to protect the Thames from invaders, since the 1780’s.

Out side of the Gravesend I leave their Heritage Trail, at the Ship and Lobster PH, the rest of the map guide worms around the Town. But I carrying on straight, on a footpath called The Saxon Shore Way, this apparently goes on for 163 miles into East Sussex.

foot path sign with Viking helmet emblem 

 As I walk, I look across the expanse, which the Thames has now become, I can well imagine those horned helmet warriors sailing up our river. They may well have landed where I stood, looking inland over this marsh-ridden view, to the hills and forest beyond, contemplating what sort of savages they were about to encounter. It must have been exciting and fearsome times, for as I turn a new bend in the river I am surprised and somewhat diligent of the dark footpaths that I occasionally traverse, wondering am I really alone. So these intrepid men must have felt some unease within their blood curdling desires of conquest, as they stepped foot upon new lands or territories.

Not that I am comparing myself to a Viking, but then again many did end up staying and mating with females of Britain, so I may well have a little of their blood coursing through my fine veins, maybe not the throat cutting, thieving, pillaging side, but at least the traveller, the wanderer side. 

The sun persists laying with its feet up leaning against a blue sky, that is dotted with white fluffy clouds that belong to the summer not winter. But the wind also has something to say just to remind me it is still winter, as it roars bitter and harsh across the flat land. I walk on a high grass bank that affords no shelter from the persistent wind, on wards towards a place called Cliffe, with the River on my left, marshland on my right.

A few horses graze the poor grasslands, tiptoeing around the boggy waters, leaving piles of dung to enrich the soil. They are a sad looking bunch I wonder who owns them and which dog food tin they will end up in? or even on which French menu they may be the main dish of the day!!

I come across a large structure which appears to be a crumbling concrete fortification from the last war, I assume, as I have not been able to find any information on it. But it is massive with great turning screws for metal doors that large cannons or guns could have, fearfully, aimed out off. It faces the curve of the Thames ready to have blasted at any, new Viking, or other intending invaders from this vantage point. But now it is a ghost of disintegrating, graffiti-ed concrete like many of the war “Pillbox’s” that dot this Island Home.

This is now not far from the estuary into the North sea therefore the width across to the north bank is quite a distance, certainly one I wold not want to swim across!

I do want to walk further but my legs and feet feel different about this idea. I see a fellow wanderer approaching it is a lady who has the sense to A/ have a pair of binoculars to bird spot and B/ more important an ordinance survey map of the area. We stop and pass the time of day she points out that if I carry on in the direction I was heading was along way to go, before being able to public transport. But if I were to cut of now I could find a bus route reasonably close by. With my legs believing this is today’s best option I head of the trail towards a small town called Chalk. Not realising at that moment but it may be my last venture east with the Thames. Who knows though ? never say never!!

Me and the Thames 

My shadow and the Thames 

To get there I have to pass through or around water, mud, marsh and piles of horse crap, the risk being snipered at from the police shooting range [I wondered what that crack, ping, thud noise had been] then across a live railway line that warned “Listen, look both ways and do not touch live rail,” forgetting to point out which was the live rail. 

Needless to say I did not succumb to foot and mouth, from the piles of steaming manure, or die painfully by either of the other two methods. The police had men on security at both ends of a footpath to ensure no one strayed into the path of a stray bullet, unlike Jean Charles Menezes. They would only allow me to pass once shooting had ceased and was confirmed by radio, in-fact they gave me a lift in their vehicle to be out of range quickly, a very friendly chap not the sort you would imagine could carry a firer-arm, which it seems these times have brought about. The railway line was negated carefully and quickly to the other side, avoiding all rails in the process, I did say I was a wuss.

As I approached the village of “Chalk” a sign welcomed safe drivers and no blackboards [an old teacher joke or maybe not] thus came my day to an end, well that is apart from two hours of bus and train journey rides to my home. On the ride I thought about opinions and the opinionated we all have viewing points or points of view. Some of us are full of sharing our opinion, in-fact enforcing our opinion, while other offer thoughts and ideas to be pursued, turned over, examined and argued about. Which camp do you fall into ? or for that matter which do I fall into?

                           Thames Chase and the river Rom

River Rom in full winter flood

March the 7th a most lovely day, after doing my chores I must get out into the sun, so set of to my local Country Park and Nature Reserve called East Brook End may I recommend this to children, adults, bird watchers, dog walkers and general walkers like myself. It is not only a fantastic place to play or wander, but also it is also close to my heart. I am very proud to say that back in the early 1980 myself along with a number of other groups and individuals help keep this wonderful resource from being turned into a desert of a golf course, which is what our local council the London Borough of Barking and Dagenham had wanted, or at least a handful of councillors, who shall now remain nameless unless provoked of course.

It is now considered a shining examples for the council, as a showpiece, used by locals, as well as schools and colleges for fieldwork, when studying the ecology or nature.

sunset at Thames Chase nature reserve and country park

Winning our battle did not happen over night it took a number of years of meetings, fund raisings, petitions, awareness raising within the council as well as with our fellow community members. I was then the local co-ordinator for Friends of the Earth, along with like minded people we were able to show our council what a wonderful opportunity they had, as well as where to seek funding for turning an x sand and gravel extraction pit, into this diverse, well used, wild landscape. That I am now walking today. 

There are all the usual birds and wildlife, lakes with fishermen, copices of trees, wetlands and pastures water mud and grass. The River Rom runs through it, becoming the River Beam further down on its passage to the Thames, so there is a link up.

There are Kingfishers, which I have not yet had the wonderment to spot, but I do see and hear blackbirds, robins, crow’s by the hundreds, herons, wagtails, various tits, jays, magpies, woodpeckers, gulls, ducks, geese, swans. All these and more, along with countless rabbits, foxes and water voles. We have a great interoperation centre run by Essex Wildlife with wardens and volunteers, as well as a fine café, so come and visit. They have all sorts of events from owl and bat spotting on some evenings, to fun days for all the family, a Halloween spooky night these and more, look them up on the web site. 

Today is uneventful but enjoyable a good trek around it edges takes me past the Rom, horse riding still takes place here, some of the ecology has formed due to the head end grazing and the other end doing its work in its dropping's part!!

It is very muddy but there are signs spring is on the move everywhere, with creatures chasing one another, specially the wildfowl. Green buds alighting the end of each branch, wild daffodils forcing their yellowness up for us to inspect, now that the crocus have all ready braved the cold ending of winter [Oh please] who only followed on the end of the dainty looking yet tough snow drops.

See page 3 for my continuing walks back to the west on the Thames path. Thank you.