Allhallows Archives - Remote London

Yantlet Creek: a short walk between two estuaries, the Thames & Medway

Ian Tokelove — Sun, 10 Apr 2022 20:40:07 +0000

This short walk takes us from Allhallows and the remote London Stone to the Grain Tower and the Medway Estuary.

Allhallows lies on the eastern edges of the Hoo Peninsula. It’s a small, remote village twinned with a larger holiday park, where white, static caravans reflect the ever-changing moods of the Thames Estuary.

Once there were big plans for Allhallows. It was to be a resort town, Allhallows-on-Sea, with an amusement park and swimming pool, dwarfing all other English resorts. A rail line was extended to the village, and a railway station opened in 1932. And then came the Second World War.

The resort development stalled, and now only the incongruous bulk of the British Pilot pub hints at what might have been. Recently closed, the Pilot still marks the starting spot for this walk, to explore a newly opened section of the English Coast Path.

The coast path and Thames Estuary

From the pub, a track heads east across rough pasture, then up and onto the sea wall. Across the estuary, on a good day, the windows of Southend-on Sea glint and glimmer, exchanging random semaphore signals with the marshalled ranks of holiday homes.

The Thames Estuary is four and a half miles wide here, but at low tide it seems one could walk across the wide, muddy flats all the way to Essex.

Yantlet Creek

The path quickly reaches Yantlet Creek and turns inland. This creek once bisected the Hoo Peninsula, separating the Isle of Grain from the mainland. Since at least medieval times the creek was a marine thoroughfare, allowing smaller vessels to cut between the Medway and Thames. However, the sinuous creek was subject to silting, and the channel required regular dredging. Yantlet Creek has long been lost to navigation, it’s tidal limit now stifled by sea walls and sluices.

Due to its importance as a waterway, a coastguard station once stood close to the mouth of the creek. Smuggling of untaxed goods was rife along the estuary, and it was the luckless coastguards’ job to stop the illicit trade. Their home was often a moored hulk, often shared with their families.

The hulk at Yantlet Creek was swept away in 1897 and the coastguard station moved further inland to Avery, on the edge of Allhallows. Weathered bricks and foundations can still be seen beside the creek, testimony to the lost station.

The Black Widow beacon

Since at least 1905 a maritime beacon has also guarded Yantlet Creek. This was known locally as the Black Widow, as the uppermost body resembled a round head above a long cape or skirt.

The Black Widow beacon has recently fallen, toppled by wind, erosion and age. A foundation of four stout wooden legs remain, but the Widow’s rusting metal figure now lies twisted and broken in the mud below.

The London Stone

Beyond the beacon, a remote monument rises like a phantom, a curious, weather-beaten obelisk marking a forgotten border. This is the London Stone, raised in 1856 to briefly mark the eastern boundary of the City of London Corporation’s jurisdiction over the lucrative waters of the Thames.

The London Stone is twinned with the more accessible Crow Stone at Leigh-on-Sea, across the estuary. The City lost control of these disputed waters to the Crown in 1857, but in its time, this granite pillar would have been visited and toasted by the Lord Mayor of London and his dignitaries, as they formally marked and celebrated their territorial claim over the Thames.

When the tide is low the Creek can be reduced to a jumpable stream, allowing access to the Stone. There is mud, but also firmer shell and sand. There is no official public access, but we generally have the right to roam below the high tide mark. However, it’s best not to venture too far beyond, as the area is as an active Danger Zone with a risk of unexploded ordnance.

Yantlet Creek Memorials

Look for two much smaller monuments beside the path. One commemorates a man named Geoffrey John Hammond, who drowned here in 1975. The handcrafted bronze plaque, and a later addition in honour of his wife, have both been stolen, almost erasing their memory. I’ve written more about this memorial when describing another Allhallows walk. The other stone commemorates the construction of the Thames Flood Defences, raised after the disastrous North Sea flood of 1953.

In summer, the path here is a frenzy of colourful wildflowers. On a grey winter’s day, all tones are muted, lifted only by the sight of little egret, their pure white plumage contrasting with the dull landscape and brooding sky.

The path follows the curve of the creek. A few buildings on the other side of the Creek hug the landscape. An old, unused quayside is melting back into the land and the water. Oil storage tanks squat low on the horizon.

The tidal creek is cut short by a sea wall, separating saltwater from freshwater. The new public footpath cuts across this wall, away from Allhallows Marshes and onto the Isle of Grain. Previously, the only right of way was on and into the marshes, following tracks which loop and circle around themselves.

Allhallows Marshes

Allhallows Marshes are home to the rare remnants of a Second World War Decoy site. During night-time air raids, circular cuts would be flooded with oil and ignited, to imitate burning oil tanks and hopefully draw enemy bombers away from the refinery on Grain. I’ve written more about Allhallows Marshes here.

Once on Grain, the path follows the line of another flood defence wall. To the left is the no-go military Danger Area. To the right, arable fields lead to the island’s industrial heart, much reduced but still impressive. The path joins West Lane which quickly leads into the village of Grain.

A flooded gravel pit is passed on the right. The darkly humorous ‘No Trespassing’ signs make a pleasant change from the usual ‘Keep Out’ notices which confine so many public rights of way.

The Grain Tower and Medway Estuary

Walk past the fire station, following the straight line of Chapel Road. When the houses run out, a bridleway cuts left, the road heads right and a public footpath carries straight on, towards the sea.

Follow this path to the seawall, scramble up, and you’ll find yourself overlooking the old causeway which heads out to the Grain Tower, protecting the mouth of the Medway. At low tide you can walk out to the Tower, at high tide you’d need a boat.

This isn’t a long walk, between Allhallows and the Grain Tower. Maybe 6km, allowing you to step from one estuary to another, enjoying seascapes, wilderness and history, with a distant industrial backdrop.

More information

My thanks to Liza S for joining me on this walk, undertaken in March 2022. We cheated and used cars for this one. There is no public train service to Allhallows or Grain, and Sunday bus services are limited.

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Exploring the Hoo Peninsula from Allhallows, a remote Thames Estuary walk

Ian Tokelove — Sat, 04 Jul 2020 15:03:07 +0000

The Hoo Peninsula

The Hoo Peninsula breaks away from north Kent, forming an almost-island between the Thames and Medway estuaries. The roads are dead-end routes, leading out to lonely farmhouses, small villages, and industrial zones. Much of the peninsula is low-lying marshland, a jigsaw puzzle of rough grazing grounds bounded by narrow drainage channels.

A footpath traces the remote, northern edge of the Hoo Peninsula. This thin line stretches between Gravesend and the small village of Allhallows at the eastern tip of the peninsula.

Dagnam Saltings

I set out from the Allhallows holiday camp, following the promenade west, towards the marshes. Once past the yacht club, the narrow beach gives way to saltmarsh and mudflats, known as the Dagnam Saltings.

The path winds along the edge of the marsh, above a beach that is sometimes shell, sometimes mud. On high spring tides this would be a dangerous path. Wind and salt-spray have scoured the warning signs of words and meaning.

A couple of pillboxes look out across the estuary. One stands on a sandy spit and is accessible. The other is marooned in mud and as the tide returns, becomes an island.

Plastic pollution, an ongoing battle

Torn scraps of plastic flash and flicker amid the reeds and sedge. London’s litter is carried by the river and wind to the east, where it catches in the seamarsh and along the foreshore.

I found a scarred DVD, a sci-fi shoot-em-up from fourteen years ago, still secure in a broken case. I took it home, plugged it in and it still played.

West Point and the Thames Storage (Explosives) Company

The path leads out to a secluded beach at West Point, with distant views of Canvey Island and the Coryton oil refinery. Inland of the beach stand seven ruined explosive stores, dating from about 1892.

Gunpowder was repacked here by employees of the Thames Storage (Explosives) Company. The powder arrived in this remote spot by boat, brought ashore via a landing stage (now lost) just to the east of the beach.

The buildings were widely spaced due to the risk of explosion, and there are records of one building being destroyed on 29th July 1905. The thick walls, reinforced by bunds of earth, were designed to channel explosions (and presumably employees) up and through thin roofs. The buildings may have been used until about 1913, when the lease on the land expired. A much larger range of similar buildings can be seen farther along the Hoo Peninsula, at the north-western tip.

Walking away from home

The path cuts inland alongside St Mary’s Bay, where the beaches and saltmarsh are protected by wire. I watched a small bird of prey, flying low and being mobbed by starlings. So far I’d seen plenty of wildlife, but only two other people, walking together along the Thames path.

I took a track inland, intending to head back towards Allhallows, but the warm evening was too beautiful. I walked away from my car, scattering rabbits from the cropped path, towards the lowering sun.

At Manor Way, the path turns towards the Thames. The track here is wide enough for vehicles, but seldom used. Spikes of teasel grow plentifully, and rabbit holes occasionally puncture the rough trackway.

Manor Way leads, via a locked gate, to Egypt Bay, but I hopped another fence and took an overgrown concrete track which promised a quicker route to the Thames embankment. This led to two small concrete buildings, dating back to the Second World War.

Defensive electric lights once stood here, presumably sweeping the river for enemy activity and watching for aerial mine drops. Now, birds nest in the abandoned buildings.

Curious cattle

Back at St Mary’s Bay, a herd of about forty steers proved a little too curious for comfort, crowding close on the path. The bolder ones pushed nearer, as if to prove their bravery to the others, jostling each other for position. Thankfully, they’re twitchy beasts, backing away when confronted, but I was glad to put a gate between us.

I returned to the inland path and headed back towards Allhallows, brushing my way through waist-high wildflowers and grass. At the Dagnam Saltings, I noticed something I’d missed on my way out, something very old & man-made, eroding from the marsh.

Possible prehistoric trackway on the Hoo Peninsula

A survey published in 2004 refers to a possible prehistoric trackway nearby, and also to Bronze Age saltworks. I’m chasing the experts up on this one.

I got back to Allhallows as the sun set. A couple of clumsy Maybugs (one of our larger beetles) were drifting over the path, one bouncing harmlessly off my face in its simple pursuit of food or mate. The holiday homes stared our blindly towards the estuary, their empty windows dark in the coronavirus lockdown, as I walked unseen, away from the marsh.

The Flying Fortress memorial

Next to the yacht club, on the promenade, a small memorial commemorates the crew of a B17 ‘Flying Fortress’ which went down in the Thames here on 19th June 1944.

The flak-damaged plane, numbered 44-6133, was limping home from a bombing raid in Northern France, as part of a 30-strong formation. The pilot, on his first combat mission, was struggling to control the plane when it suddenly lurched sideways and hit the leading B17.

44-6133 turned over, lost a wing, and plunged vertically into the Thames. Only one of the nine-man crew survived. Finding himself thrown from the disintegrating plane, he was able to pull his ‘chute and survived. Six of the crew from the other B17 were able to bail out, as it flew on severely damaged. With a dead pilot at the controls the B17 threatened the oil refinery at Coryton before turning and crashing off Canvey Point. The full story can be read on the aviationtrails website.

For another walk from Allhallows, heading east towards the Isle of Grain, see remotelondon.com/allhallows-yantlet-creek

The post Exploring the Hoo Peninsula from Allhallows, a remote Thames Estuary walk appeared first on Remote London.

Walking from Allhallows towards the Isle of Grain, exploring the Thames Estuary edges

Ian Tokelove — Tue, 30 Jun 2020 14:32:55 +0000

The holiday park at Allhallows looks across the Thames towards the distant, cluttered shoreline of Southend-on-Sea. A narrow beach of family-friendly sand and shell leads to an expanse of thick, dark mud, swept regularly by powerful tides.

In June 2020, with camping sites still under coronavirus lockdown, the beach is almost deserted. The holiday homes stand empty and quiet.

A public footpath leads from Allhallows into the holiday park, passing the gated security post, and down to the shoreline. I headed east, away from the land and towards the sea. The path follows the ridge of the river embankment, thickly lined with cranesbill and nodding florets of wild carrot.

Yantlet Creek

At Yantlet Creek, the path turns inland, following the waterway. Across the narrow channel lies a disused naval firing range, off-limits to the public. This used to be a testing ground for large weapons, lobbing long-range shells out to sea, to be swallowed by the Maplin Sands.

A weathered monument stands where Yantlet Creek meets the Thames. These sad stones once held two bronze plaques, commemorating a life lost here, and a partner’s death a few years later. Both plaques are now gone, presumably stolen and melted down for scrap. Memories rendered, very nearly lost and forgotten.

Geoffrey John Hammond, drowned at Yantlet Creek

Photographer John Shepherd captured the plaques back in 2008, shortly before they were stolen. His photograph from Flickr reveals an epitaph to Geoffrey John Hammond, who drowned here. The words are cast into metal and weathered by salt wind; each handcrafted letter accentuated by a blue patina.

The main plaque reads:

Geoffrey John Hammond, artist, teacher, naturalist, conservationist drowned on March 2^nd 1975 at the age of 37 years in these waters, visiting Yantlet Creek and its beach, beloved by him …. Deepest love and respect from the Dickens Country Protection Society of which he was a committee member, his wife, his family and his many friends.

“How still it is! I hear no more the busy beat of time, no, nor my struggling pulse ….. this silence pours a solitariness into the very essence of my soul, and the deep rest, so soothing and so sweet, hath something too of sternness and of pain.” (The dream of Gerontias)

Julie, 1977 and forever

Julie, Geoffrey’s wife, died a few years later, aged only 44. She was a sculptor. Perhaps she chose these stones, and cast the first plaque. The plaque in her honour simply read:

Julie Hammond
(Julie van Duren, Sculptor)
1937-1981
Wife of Geoffrey

Nearby, another monument leans at an angle, commemorating the construction of the Thames Flood Defence system. In the distance, beyond a navigational marker in the creek, the London Stone stands tall, to the north of the firing range.

The London Stone

The London Stone was erected in 1856 to mark the eastern boundary of the City of London’s jurisdiction over the River Thames. The Stone is one of several which asserted the City’s ownership of the Thames and the river’s valuable fisheries and tolls. The stone’s purpose was short-lived, with the City losing control to the Crown in 1857 under The Thames Conservancy Act.

The London Stone is twinned with another boundary marker on the other side of the estuary, the Crow Stone at Leigh-on-Sea in Essex. The London Stone can be reached at low tide if you’re prepared to risk mud, water and trespass.

The lost coastguard station

An eroding layer of yellow brick, topped with pitch, marks the remains of a small coastguard station, landing stage and lane which once stood here. Yantlet Creek was once a navigable waterway, a tidal watercourse which joined with Colemouth Creek, a tributary of the Medway.

Regular dredging allowed boats to take the creek shortcut between the Medway and Thames estuaries. In the 19th century, the Isle of Grain really was an island.

This remote location was ideal for smuggling, which led to the establishment of the coastguard station. At first, the station was probably based in a moored hulk on the riverside. The station was swept away in 1897 and a new station established in Allhallows.

The path follows the creek inland. This is remote land, the wildlife cautious of movement. I flushed a mixed flock of little egret and herons, pure white and charcoal grey against the clouded, windy sky.

Across the creek, the Isle of Grain oil terminal once boasted a huge refinery and around 100 oil tanks, but most have now been removed. The huge storage tanks which now dominate the horizon contain Liquefied Natural Gas (LNG).

With the wind blowing hard across the marshes, I ducked down from the embankment path and into the edges of the fen. Others were also seeking shelter here; small, bright dragonflies clinging to the swaying sedge. I think these are red-veined darters, the mature males a deep red, while the females and younger males are ochre-yellow.

Decoy fires and WW2 bombing raids

At the heart of the Allhallows Marshes, on the edge of a few farmed fields and the path to Binney Farm, a curious concrete structure draws the eye. This is a Second World War ‘night shelter’, a reinforced unit of two rooms and part of an ‘Oil QF’ decoy site.

In order to protect the oil terminal on the Isle of Grain, burning rings and crescents of fuel could be ignited here. The fires would give the impression of burning oil drums & storage tanks, luring enemy night bombers away from their real targets.

About 25m from the night-shelter, a series of concrete supports once held a large oil tank, fuel for the decoy fires. Similar structures still stand on the Fobbing Marshes across the Thames, built as a decoy for the oil refinery at Shell Haven.

The path that cuts east here, away from the farm and back towards Yantlet Creek, passes the shadow of a decoy tank, still visible amid the wild grassland.

If the burning decoys did their job and attracted enemy bombing, the marshes show little trace, but this crater suggests at least one bomb fell here during WW2.

The path home

I took the embankment path back to Allhallows. A young family had set up a crooked tent and were exploring the foreshore, slipping and sliding as they turned rocks and seaweed in search of crabs. Rather than head back to the holiday park I took another short path, leading from the Thames to The British Pilot pub on the edge of the village.

A herd of young steers quit their grazing to regard me with curiosity. Starlings rose and fell around them, catching insects drawn by their dung and disturbed by their hooves. I left the marsh and followed the quiet lane back to my car, and the fast road to London.

More information

Naturegirl blog, a walk to Yantlet Creek

Historic England, Oil Depot Bombing Decoy, Allhallows, Isle of Grain

This page updated April 2022 to include more information on the memorial to Geoffrey John Hammond.

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