Andrew Millham takes us for a walk along the River Roach in Paglesham, north of Southend, to the site where Darwin’s 19th century ship, HMS Beagle, was laid to rest
Distance: Approx. six miles
Time: Three hours, including time to stop, snack and stare
This walk begins in Paglesham Churchend, the name of which becomes clear as you pass the 900-year-old flint church (gained.quality.tolerates) dedicated to Saint Peter, a fisherman. Saint Peter has long been associated with the sea, and Paglesham was once well known for its oysters, reared along the saltings of the River Roach and nearby tributaries which, under the cover of darkness, were once classic smuggling territory.
Churchend hosts a row of stunning weatherboarded cottages, while farmhouses sit out in the fields as island outposts of civilisation. Truly, Paglesham is a place for the seasoned walker, who knows the windswept wildness of Essex and where to find it. On one occasion, as my father returned from this walk on a bitterly cold morning, he was offered hot apple and brandy by the kind locals. When I began this walk in winter, turning away from the church to pick up the end of the snake-like Paglesham Creek, the ‘messengers’ were rolling in: dense clouds, darkening and numerous, announcing the oncoming rain shower.
Following alongside the creek on the seawall (headstone.copes.crumple), Wallasea Island sings with birdsong and the sailing club of Burnham is visible beyond. Rusty saltmarshes twist left and right into a brackish maze and the odd little egret stalks along the soft silt with their pure white necks tucked up like hunchbacks against the biting wind. Squads of waders patrol the shoreline, watched over by a silent WW2 pillbox, and oystercatchers pipe their ‘kleep, kleep’ call. Paint-stripped fibreglass carcasses of abandoned sailboats lie high on the saltmarsh, deposited by winter storms.
I had encountered no one so far – just myself, the Roach and the patchwork farmland behind, like the squares of a chessboard. The land on my right was noticeably lower than the water to my left. Just then, as the river began to widen into Paglesham Reach (where the creek meets the River Roach), something russet-brown zipped across the path in front of me. As soon as I turned to look, it was gone. I think it was a weasel but perhaps it was a stoat. When trying to distinguish the two it should be remembered that ‘a weasel is weasily recognisable, and a stoat is stoatally different!’
A part of Paglesham Reach is also known as Beagle Point (dumplings.trade.bubbles), as Darwin’s 19th century ship, HMS Beagle (built in 1820), was secured there in mid-channel with four anchors to block the creek. Excisemen were placed on board to guard against smugglers. In later years, the oyster fishermen are said to have cut the anchor lines out of frustration against the obstructive ship and she drifted.
Eventually HMS Beagle was moved to a purpose-cut mud dock next to the river and, in 1870, leaking, rotting and beyond repair, the boat was sold and broken up where she stood. The mud dock is gone but the surrounding Roman-age oyster pits, although abandoned and silted up, remain. Today, many cottages in Paglesham and nearby claim to have a wooden beam of the ship in their house, whilst the Beagle’s keel is likely still beneath the mud.
Passing the moorings and slipway, a view over to Southend opens up. From here, Waterside Road (lighter.carefully.utter) leads to The Plough & Sail (launcher.fidget.loafing) in Paglesham Eastend, a 300-year-old traditional pub with a log fire, fine ales and a very warm welcome. It was once a meeting place for hardworking crews when around 30 oyster smacks sailed the Roach and it's now a hub of the community and cosy refuge for those, like us, who revel in the beauty of the Essex countryside.
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