A snowy white Egret, breeding season head plumes trailing, keeps pace with me, wading in the river, as I walk along the top of the dyke . A flash of brightness on a day of muted tones.
A perfect walking day. Cool and dry. Below me, to my right, a drainage channel winds off inland, across low-set fields . Bordered by luxuriantly thicketed banks.
To my left, runs the Crouch. On it a boat works her way upriver, riding the flood tide. Sniffing out the scant breeze, between serpentine banks.
I cut across the fields at Creeksea. Diverted inland, behind, what looks like, the preparations for a rural river front housing development.
The Saltmarsh Coast Trail winds on, along the top of the dyke, until it reaches the melting pot of Althorne Creek . This combines a branch line station for London; desirable modern houses, built in an Elizabethan, half timbered style; Off grid cabin homes, haloed with the scented smoke of their wood burning stoves; a DIY boat yard, for the more mature leisure craft; and the diminutive Bridgemarsh Marina, nestling amid the high mud banks of the creek.
The wheelhouse, of a long decommissioned coaster, serves as a characterful Harbour Office. Whilst the Welsh Dragon flies proudly from the forestay of a, formerly ocean going, yacht, now beached in a mud berth and serving duty as a houseboat.
Shallow draft boats line the pontoons, suggesting a restricted depth . I spot bilge keeled Hunters, of both the American and UK varieties. (The UK type were originally built very close to here, in Rochford, at the head of the River Roach, which feeds into the Crouch just below Burnham). There is a lift keel Southerly too and, of course, plenty of, inherently shallow draft, power craft. These are the border lands to the notorious Dengie marsh. The gats and swatchways, after which, the Essex inshore cruising pioneer, Charles Stock, named his home built, sixteen foot, gaff rigged cutter Shoal Waters
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