Essex Part 2
Our second trip to Essex was planned solely to visit Foulness Island, being turned away the first time due to its restricted access only made it that much more alluring. So, as the first Sunday of July rolled around, Sam and I headed back down to the south-east coast, through a surprising amount of day-tripping traffic bound for Southend-on-Sea (I presume?) and then onwards to Great Wakering, just north of Shoeburyness.
We had a brief chat with the guys on the gate at Qinetic again to explain our quest and confirm which islands we could and couldn't go to (further confusion abound), signed in, and received our laminate pass that would give us access finally to Foulness Island from midday.
The drive from the main land to Foulness was uneventful, aside from the volume of potentially illegal photography being committed in order to properly document our adventure, and the additions of Havengore (1) and New England (2) islands to our lists (despite the gate dude's mis-information).
We followed the signs in Churchend to the Heritage Centre, the only place on the island it's possible for visitors to go, and promptly showered ourselves (and the car) in Lambrini to celebrate our first island centenary on Foulness (3). Hurray! Things were looking good, and a friendly old Essex man explained where we could walk without mixing ourselves up with "unexploded material."
After the celebrations, self-congratulatory pats on the back and excitement over the possibility of tractor rides, we strolled over to the Heritage Centre to get the skinny on this recondite island. Now, whether it was the Lambrini coursing through our veins or not, we found the Centre hilarious - "punt-gunning" being a particular highlight, along with some ill-placed no-entry signs and travellers itineraries harking back to a more mysterious time, where one straw hat just wasn't enough. Tipsy or sober, it's one of those delightfully quaint museums that covers such a small uneventful area, so that every last bottle, bit of combine harvester and correspondence gets put on display.
After the Heritage Centre, and perusing the guest book for our island bagging competitors, we decided to head for another of Essex's islands, Bridgemarsh, rather than hang around for a tractor ride on Foulness. So, back in the car, we headed back to the mainland and around to Althorne to see about this next island.
When we arrived at Bridgemarsh Marina, there were a lot of boats but not a lot of people. Sam and I again debated whether we should just jump in the water and swim across. Yet again we chickened out and instead went to search and accost whichever innocent boat-owners we could find. Our luck was still running strong, leading us to the another super friendly and helpful Essex guy waiting by the shore, who, after explanation of our quest, was able to hook us up with a short hop to Bridgemarsh Island (4) on his buddy's boat.
As we waited for said buddy (who was out in the boat with prospective buyers), the guy told us an interesting story of a boy who used to live on the island. Apparently he would row across to the mainland, walk ten miles to school, walk back and row home everyday! The remains of some sort of building still stand on the island, although as we were relying on the kindness of strangers, and ignoring RSPB "Keep Off" signs, we didn't have time to check the island out. The boat hop was fun though, the island bleak and muddy. The prospective buyers seemed to enjoy helping us too, which was amazing and finalised our u-turn on Essexian approachability. Those Essex lot are all right, really.
Next we drove to Bradwell-on-Sea to see about getting to Pewit Island. We tried everything, from asking Daniel Radcliffe look-a-likes for help, to asking marina managers, to having the classic debate about swimming to it. All options exhausted, we headed to the pub for a swift glass of cider before heading home. A shame to end on a fail, but we were already putting plans in place for Orkney and Anglesey and clinking glasses to the next hundred islands.
Our second trip to Essex was planned solely to visit Foulness Island, being turned away the first time due to its restricted access only made it that much more alluring. So, as the first Sunday of July rolled around, Sam and I headed back down to the south-east coast, through a surprising amount of day-tripping traffic bound for Southend-on-Sea (I presume?) and then onwards to Great Wakering, just north of Shoeburyness.
We had a brief chat with the guys on the gate at Qinetic again to explain our quest and confirm which islands we could and couldn't go to (further confusion abound), signed in, and received our laminate pass that would give us access finally to Foulness Island from midday.
 |
| Super Secret Access Pass! |
 |
| Super Secret MOD Convoy |
 |
| We weren't allowed to stop for photos on Havengore or New England islands |
The drive from the main land to Foulness was uneventful, aside from the volume of potentially illegal photography being committed in order to properly document our adventure, and the additions of Havengore (1) and New England (2) islands to our lists (despite the gate dude's mis-information).
We followed the signs in Churchend to the Heritage Centre, the only place on the island it's possible for visitors to go, and promptly showered ourselves (and the car) in Lambrini to celebrate our first island centenary on Foulness (3). Hurray! Things were looking good, and a friendly old Essex man explained where we could walk without mixing ourselves up with "unexploded material."
 |
| The most difficult to access village in the UK? |
 |
| Celebration Times! |
 |
| We definitely were there |
After the celebrations, self-congratulatory pats on the back and excitement over the possibility of tractor rides, we strolled over to the Heritage Centre to get the skinny on this recondite island. Now, whether it was the Lambrini coursing through our veins or not, we found the Centre hilarious - "punt-gunning" being a particular highlight, along with some ill-placed no-entry signs and travellers itineraries harking back to a more mysterious time, where one straw hat just wasn't enough. Tipsy or sober, it's one of those delightfully quaint museums that covers such a small uneventful area, so that every last bottle, bit of combine harvester and correspondence gets put on display.
 |
| Punt Gunning! |
 |
| Well Boring |
 |
| The funniest thing ever to happen on Foulness |
After the Heritage Centre, and perusing the guest book for our island bagging competitors, we decided to head for another of Essex's islands, Bridgemarsh, rather than hang around for a tractor ride on Foulness. So, back in the car, we headed back to the mainland and around to Althorne to see about this next island.
When we arrived at Bridgemarsh Marina, there were a lot of boats but not a lot of people. Sam and I again debated whether we should just jump in the water and swim across. Yet again we chickened out and instead went to search and accost whichever innocent boat-owners we could find. Our luck was still running strong, leading us to the another super friendly and helpful Essex guy waiting by the shore, who, after explanation of our quest, was able to hook us up with a short hop to Bridgemarsh Island (4) on his buddy's boat.
 |
| Leaky, Muddy Boat-Ride |
 |
| Bridgemarsh Island |
As we waited for said buddy (who was out in the boat with prospective buyers), the guy told us an interesting story of a boy who used to live on the island. Apparently he would row across to the mainland, walk ten miles to school, walk back and row home everyday! The remains of some sort of building still stand on the island, although as we were relying on the kindness of strangers, and ignoring RSPB "Keep Off" signs, we didn't have time to check the island out. The boat hop was fun though, the island bleak and muddy. The prospective buyers seemed to enjoy helping us too, which was amazing and finalised our u-turn on Essexian approachability. Those Essex lot are all right, really.
 |
| Knee-Deep |
Next we drove to Bradwell-on-Sea to see about getting to Pewit Island. We tried everything, from asking Daniel Radcliffe look-a-likes for help, to asking marina managers, to having the classic debate about swimming to it. All options exhausted, we headed to the pub for a swift glass of cider before heading home. A shame to end on a fail, but we were already putting plans in place for Orkney and Anglesey and clinking glasses to the next hundred islands.
(Written by Liam)
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