Well two out of three ain't bad.....
If Kent is the ‘Garden of England’ then the Isle of Sheppey is the bit behind the shed where you dump the rubbish. My first ever holiday was at
Leysdown and this was my first visit since. My mother was so deeply traumatised by the event that she has never been back and shudders when I mention caravanning as a holiday option. Sheppey still has plenty of unattractive caravan parks but I was surprised to find that large parts were nature reserves, Swale (English Nature) and
Elmley (RSPB). Leysdown is also very important historically as the first powered flight took place at
Muswell Manor in 1909.
I had arranged to meet my friend Frankie in the Coastal Country Park for an eight mile hike around the Isle of Harty, the most easterly part of Sheppey. Using the miracle of modern technology, I had the kettle boiled and the bacon crisped as she pulled up. We revised our plans as we munched as the weather was cold, wet and windy. It was very pleasant watching the oyster catchers and redshanks from the comfort of the van. I prevailed upon Frankie to drive us a mile up the bumpy coast road, past the Nudist beach, strangely empty, to Shellness. Shellness hamlet is a collection of coastguard cottages that now appear to be bijou holiday homes.
Our destination was the
Swale National Nature Reserve, a mass of saltmarsh grazed by cattle and home to a variety of water fowl, foreign and domestic. I would have enjoyed the wide views and big skies, but my vision was blurred by the raindrops on my glasses. We took refuge in one of the hides and Frankie introduced me to the fine art of birdwatching. She identified about twenty different species, from small brown jobs like greenfinches to much larger birds like greylag geese, curlew and heron. I enjoyed the peacefulness of the hide and appreciated the great variety of birdlife that can exist in one place, but I’ll never have the patience required for this hobby. It all got quite exciting when Frankie thought a beautiful bird with black wing tips might be a
Montague's harrier, a rare visitor to these shores. Phone calls were exchanged between experts and texts dispatched before the bird was identified as a male
Marsh Harrier, later confirmed by the bird book.
We returned to the car and thence to the van and went in convoy to the Harty Ferry Inn for a well deserved lunch and a stroll to the
local church. With the caravans hidden from view, you could really enjoy the views of the Swale Estuary and salt marshes, imagining yourself back in the days of smuggling and convict hulks, such is the isolated nature of the place. Or just lose yourself in nature for a couple of hours in the company a good mate.
If Kent is the ‘Garden of England’ then the Isle of Sheppey is the bit behind the shed where you dump the rubbish. My first ever holiday was at Leysdown and this was my first visit since. My mother was so deeply traumatised by the event that she has never been back and shudders when I mention caravanning as a holiday option. Sheppey still has plenty of unattractive caravan parks but I was surprised to find that large parts were nature reserves, Swale (English Nature) and Elmley (RSPB). Leysdown is also very important historically as the first powered flight took place at Muswell Manor in 1909.
I had arranged to meet my friend Frankie in the Coastal Country Park for an eight mile hike around the Isle of Harty, the most easterly part of Sheppey. Using the miracle of modern technology, I had the kettle boiled and the bacon crisped as she pulled up. We revised our plans as we munched as the weather was cold, wet and windy. It was very pleasant watching the oyster catchers and redshanks from the comfort of the van. I prevailed upon Frankie to drive us a mile up the bumpy coast road, past the Nudist beach, strangely empty, to Shellness. Shellness hamlet is a collection of coastguard cottages that now appear to be bijou holiday homes.
Our destination was the Swale National Nature Reserve, a mass of saltmarsh grazed by cattle and home to a variety of water fowl, foreign and domestic. I would have enjoyed the wide views and big skies, but my vision was blurred by the raindrops on my glasses. We took refuge in one of the hides and Frankie introduced me to the fine art of birdwatching. She identified about twenty different species, from small brown jobs like greenfinches to much larger birds like greylag geese, curlew and heron. I enjoyed the peacefulness of the hide and appreciated the great variety of birdlife that can exist in one place, but I’ll never have the patience required for this hobby. It all got quite exciting when Frankie thought a beautiful bird with black wing tips might be a Montague's harrier, a rare visitor to these shores. Phone calls were exchanged between experts and texts dispatched before the bird was identified as a male Marsh Harrier, later confirmed by the bird book.
We returned to the car and thence to the van and went in convoy to the Harty Ferry Inn for a well deserved lunch and a stroll to the local church. With the caravans hidden from view, you could really enjoy the views of the Swale Estuary and salt marshes, imagining yourself back in the days of smuggling and convict hulks, such is the isolated nature of the place. Or just lose yourself in nature for a couple of hours in the company a good mate.
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