21. Harwich to Kirby Le Soken 19.07.12
Two sweet sixteen year old girls lead me to the library where I photocopy an OS map of the area – I don’t want to get lost in the meanderings of the estuary today. Poor run down Dovercourt still sports a presentable promenade marked by a familar figure. I set off in the warm sunshine, the mighty cranes of Parkeston Quay behind me, the sea wall turning into a narrow concrete path running parallel to the beach past the acres of sterile caravan parks.
Gradually the path loses its profile, miles of long grass and brambles sap my energy. Small hamlets perched on the edge of the silted landscape, boats abandoned and left to rot, beautiful wild flowers play around the edges of my eyes, butterflies flutter from under my feet. Finally, the path leads off, away from the marshlands and exhausted I throw myself onto the grass opposite the enchanting “Pilots Cottage” where I rest, watching the ducks fuss contentedly in the pond.