Our taxi drops us near the Coastguard Cottages at Stone Creek – last time we were here we turned right, this time it’s left. In front of us are a few small boats, beached on the muddy banks of the creek – I notice a car.

Hunting around for the path I notice a grizzled middle aged man in a boiler suit loping towards us. I shout “Excuse me, is this the footpath?” pointing to a narrow gap in the bushes. “The footparth” he says with a twinkle in his eye, “Is that the footparth you’re looking for Madam?” It takes me a couple of seconds before I realise he’s mocking my southern accent – northerners would of course pronounce “path” with the same vowel sound as in “apple” I burst out laughing and he grins, showing us exactly how few teeth he has left. He introduces himself as the Harbourmaster and we stop for a chat.

Moving on we pass a sign informing us that this is a permissive path through the rural parish of Sunk Island. Originally a sandbank in the middle of the Humber Estuary, the island was gradually built up by tidal deposits and became permanently above water in the late 16th century. It is now part of the mainland and is well known for its fertile soil.

Damian takes a minute to check his phone………….

The path widens – marshes on the right, agriculture on the left.

Tufts of marsh grasses sit serenely in the still water……………

And then……what are these? Too large to be cow vertebrae………and how did they get here in the middle of the path? A mystery.

Further up the path stands what can only be called an obelisk, complete with its stainless steel plaques, marking the position of the Greenwich Meridian.

Longitude zero – good place to stop and have a rest.

A mile or so up the path, a couple of students from Hull University are measuring the carbon capture capacity of the marsh – or at least I think that’s what he said.

Soon we will have to turn inland as there is no easy way of getting across Patrington Channel.

The pumping station is armed to the teeth with spikes and tall gates and even if we were prepared for a mild impaling, the bog on the other side of it looks impassable. OK ok – we’ll turn round.

Back we go with the drain on our right, down a farm track heading up to a minor road which will take us to our destination. Off to the left a couple of diggers are performing circus tricks – it looks like they are laying the foundations of another embankment.

Another mile and we are approaching Patrington Haven – home to a substantial holiday park where we tried to find a pint and some food last night. Unfortunately the restaurant had burned down some months ago, so all hospitality moved into a marquee AND it was bingo night – didn’t really fancy it.

In the middle of the village stands a strange little building with its own war memorial. Built as a chapel for the Primitive Methodists in 1852, it has obviously been through a few facelifts in its time with rather unhappy results. Primitive Methodists were formed in 1811 as an offshoot of the main Wesleyan Methodist Church. They owe their Evangelical nature to the American movement of the same name, encouraging boisterous camp meetings and full equal status for men and women. The Primitive Methodists were the first to allow the ordination of women to full time ministry.

From here it is just a a short hop to Patrington where we are staying tonight.

Distance: 10 miles