Across the fields I could see a farmhouse and was wary that if I could see them, they could see me. Although the area where I had pitched up last night was flat, it was also covered in long grass about two feet high. Now in the early morning it was covered in dew and as I went about breaking camp it was soaking my boots and the bottom of my trousers. As well, it made it difficult to fold the tent up and keep it dry. I had another camping night in front of me tonight, albeit in a small campsite and I dreaded a wet and smelly tent.
The route was almost exclusively on seawall right up to the outskirts of Burnham-on-Crouch. Where there is seawall there is usually a choice to be made between walking on the top of the wall and enjoying the often wonderful views, but sometimes having to put up with long wet grass, wild flowers and weeds. Alternatively, there is often a path running along the landward side of the seawall which sometimes affords you a view across the countryside (and dependent on the hedgerow) but because of the height of the seawall, almost no sea or forward view at all (because of the way the wall meanders in and out). I usually opt for the seawall because I so enjoy the vistas to be had and I am usually willing to put up with the discomfort occasioned by the wet herbage. The added difficulty, however, is that even with the best of boots, ten or fifteen miles walking through wet grass soaks your socks, wets your feet, making the skin softer and more susceptible to blisters.
The walking was good initially, but gradually the state of the path deteriorated as it began to narrow and slope toward the landward side. Occasionally, I would come to a bit where it was so narrow that, with the large rucksack on my back, it was safer to drop down to the path at the back of the wall, but sometimes the walking was no better here with long, wet herbage and no view to speak of. Over the course of the morning I constantly moved up and down from the wall to the path and back again, ever seeking the 'better way' and never finding it.
As I turned on to the river I began to have trouble with my feet, where I was developing blisters as a result of the wet conditions inside my boots. I stopped to dry off my feet, put on some blister plasters and change my socks. Tiredness was catching up with me after a week of walking and camping so I very deliberately took the time to brew up another cup of coffee and have a snack and a rest and let my feet enjoy getting the air round about them.
Later at night I had a wander along the High Street before stopping off at the chippy for my favourite fish and chips and then off to the land of Nod. While it had been short mileage, it had nonetheless been a hard day, in hot sun and with little water and I was glad to see it behind me. The only thought in my mind as I drifted off was that I just had to make one more effort the next day before enjoying a couple of nights in a hotel and a day off. Of such small things is happiness made!