I SPY Almost-LONDON the definitive DG guide to places a few yards over the border Part 2:Rainham Marshes
Location: New Tank Hill Road, Purfleet, Thurrock RM19 1SX [map] Very nearly in: the London Borough of Havering Admission: £2.50 6-word summary: reclaimed rifle range, now RSPB sanctuary Website:www.rspb.org.uk/reserves/rainhammarshes Time to set aside: two hours plus
It's not easy to find something nice to say about Thurrock. Not when place names like Grays and Mucking unintentionally reveal rather too much about the area. Thurrock's very flat, rather industrial, and boasts the retail hell of Lakeside slap bang in the middle. And it's extremely estuarine, clinging onto the grey Thames as it wriggles out to sea past Sheerness and Southend. Not lovely. But now there is something nice to say about the area, and it's all thanks to the Ministry of Defence. Most of the Thurrock riverside has long been irretrievably lost beneath factories, warehouses and dockyards, but 900 acres of Rainham Marshes were appropriated by the MOD for use as a rifle range which unintentionally preserved the natural landscape. This wetland paradise is now under the protection of the RSPB, and last year they opened up the gates to visiting twitchers (and members of the local community). Fancy a visit?
First head for Purfleet, not Rainham. For drivers it's just a few yards off the A13, but those coming by train face a long walk from Purfleet station. The footpath takes you along the Thames, where the dominant feature is the giant power station on the opposite banks, and past the Purfleet Heritage and Military Centre. And also, I'm afraid, past the white van enclave of the aptly-named Garrison housing estate. I had to dodge out of the way of a speeding mini scooter ridden by a teenage dad and his giggling son, and avoid the enormous dog guarding a phalanx of Vicky Pollards holding court by the swings. This urban wildlife was in sharp contrast to what was coming up round the corner.
Entrance to the Rainham Marshes bird reserve is through a striking orangey-brown visitor's centre. You won't get through the metal perimeter fence unless you venture inside. Head up to the cash desk by the observation window where a learned volunteer will point out the highlights of what you're about to see. You could pause here to peer at distant waterfowl through a telescope, or else keep the café staff busy by ordering a jacket spud or toastie. I resisted both and continued out through the swing doors, down a long ramp and onto the wheelchair-accessible boardwalk. You're not allowed to walk wherever you like, so there's a 2½ mile path around the perimeter which allows you to keep a binoculared eye on any resident bird life. Not that there was much flapping around this weekend, it not being migration season, not yet.
I took the anti-clockwise path, through the Woodland Discovery Zone (ooh look, trees) and up along the northern perimeter. The A13 and Channel Tunnel Rail Link both run alongside, both on stilts, and from next month Eurostar passengers will be able to look down and birdwatch for themselves. There's a better view from inside the Aveley hide, or at least there will be when some avian interest turns up. More action was evident up on Aveley Flash, where a single long-legged wader stood proudly in the marshy water surrounded by swans, ducks and flapping waterfowl. It was a magnificent bird, a bit larger than a heron, but I have no idea what it was because I'm a rubbish ornithologist. And because there was nobody else around to ask. I only passed five other paying visitors, four of them in a big Barbour-jacketed huddle blocking the path with a giant tripod. No problem, because birds don't really like being watched, so the fewer humans the better.
The path continued inbetween a reedy river and a 600ft-long shooting shelter. Even ten years ago, had I been standing here, an entire battalion of trained marksmen would have been busy using me as target practice. Now their flimsy lean-to stands slowly decaying in the wilderness, with splintered wooden benches and discarded rusting equipment scattered where they fell. The frog-filled river is no less interesting. Look carefully and you may spot a colony of rare water voles (or, indeed, one may come scampering towards you along the path, desperately careering out of sight before you can whip out your camera). A bit further ahead the boardwalk crosses the middle of a bullrushed pool, where I stopped for a sit down on one of the benches and let dragonflies nip and dart around my feet. And in the next pool I stumbled upon a heron proper, strutting around his watery domain gulping down whitebait until two coots scared him off.
Rain forced me to speed up on the walk back to the visitor centre, through clouds of midges and light drizzle. A field of cows and bulls gave me a stern look as I passed, while a family up on the Thames-side path whipped out an umbrella and ran for cover. Back in the observation lounge I was stopped by a smiling volunteer, who duly noted my lack of zoom-lens mega-camera and asked the killer question. "Much about?" Erm. I burbled something about there not being many birds at this time of year, but didn't dare mention any by name in case he spotted that I didn't have a clue what I was talking about. Instead I slipped out, past the frozen gaze of the café staff who couldn't quite work out why I wasn't stopping for a panini and a cuppa. Sorry, Maybe I'll come back again when proper migration begins, and next time I'll make sure I bring a bird book and a decent pair of binoculars. by train: Purfleet
I SPY Almost-LONDON
It's not easy to find something nice to say about Thurrock. Not when place names like Grays and Mucking unintentionally reveal rather too much about the area. Thurrock's very flat, rather industrial, and boasts the retail hell of Lakeside slap bang in the middle. And it's extremely estuarine, clinging onto the grey Thames as it wriggles out to sea past Sheerness and Southend. Not lovely. But now there is something nice to say about the area, and it's all thanks to the Ministry of Defence. Most of the Thurrock riverside has long been irretrievably lost beneath factories, warehouses and dockyards, but 900 acres of Rainham Marshes were appropriated by the MOD for use as a rifle range which unintentionally preserved the natural landscape. This wetland paradise is now under the protection of the RSPB, and last year they opened up the gates to visiting twitchers (and members of the local community). Fancy a visit?
Entrance to the Rainham Marshes bird reserve is through a striking orangey-brown visitor's centre. You won't get through the metal perimeter fence unless you venture inside. Head up to the cash desk by the observation window where a learned volunteer will point out the highlights of what you're about to see. You could pause here to peer at distant waterfowl through a telescope, or else keep the café staff busy by ordering a jacket spud or toastie. I resisted both and continued out through the swing doors, down a long ramp and onto the wheelchair-accessible boardwalk. You're not allowed to walk wherever you like, so there's a 2½ mile path around the perimeter which allows you to keep a binoculared eye on any resident bird life. Not that there was much flapping around this weekend, it not being migration season, not yet.
The path continued inbetween a reedy river and a 600ft-long shooting shelter. Even ten years ago, had I been standing here, an entire battalion of trained marksmen would have been busy using me as target practice. Now their flimsy lean-to stands slowly decaying in the wilderness, with splintered wooden benches and discarded rusting equipment scattered where they fell. The frog-filled river is no less interesting. Look carefully and you may spot a colony of rare water voles (or, indeed, one may come scampering towards you along the path, desperately careering out of sight before you can whip out your camera). A bit further ahead the boardwalk crosses the middle of a bullrushed pool, where I stopped for a sit down on one of the benches and let dragonflies nip and dart around my feet. And in the next pool I stumbled upon a heron proper, strutting around his watery domain gulping down whitebait until two coots scared him off.
I SPY Almost-LONDON