Essex walk 1: The Broomway // Dicing with death

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So, the launch of this blog has been met with a shower of praise, none more so than from the person who summed it up nicely by saying, “It’s a bit dull, isn’t it?”  OK, that person was me, and who am I to argue with myself?

So, in an effort to spice things up, this week’s blog seriously dices with death. Multiple deaths in fact, through various deathly means.

Because last Sunday, on what turned out to be a particularly cold, grey and horribly windy day, I set off to hike Britain’s most dangerous path, the Broomway. Or, to put it another way, and at the risk of coming across like Trump on a middle-of-the-night Truth Social mass rant, BRITAIN’S MOST DANGEROUS PATH!!!!

For those of you who can’t be arsed to follow the link, let me summarise just why the Broomway is indeed, BRITAIN’S MOST DANGEROUS PATH!!!!

First, over 100 people have died walking it. Now, all of those deaths were in olden times, when people were arguably more stupid (and didn’t have maps on phones to guide them, although we’ll come to that dubious benefit later). Many of them were no doubt drunken fools, walking home in the dark after a few too many ales on the mainland, making their way back to Foulness Island (even the name sounds foreboding, doesn’t it?). But still, OVER 100 DEATHS!!!

The reason they died? Well, back in ye olden times, the Broomway was the only walkable route between the mainland and Foulness (until someone got round to building a bridge between the two in 1922).

At low tide, the path travels across miles and miles of mud flats, which stretch as far as the eye can see. The important words here are “low” and “tide”, because at high tide, you’re basically walking in the middle of the Thames Estuary, which is practically the North Sea this far out.*

Apparently, if you stray too far off the path, you run the serious risk of getting stuck in the mud, or quicksand. Also, the wind can cause the tide to come in at unexpected angles, just to add to the fun and games of it all.

And did I mention that the tide comes in very, very quickly? It’s often described as “faster than a human can run” (which is not quite the speed of a galloping horse, which is often used to describe the incoming tide of the equally scary Morecambe Bay, but still, it’s really quite fast, and as I obviously didn’t have a horse with me last Sunday, more than fast enough to catch me).

So basically, you can see why a stupid, drunken person from the olden days, out on a dark, cold, foggy night, could easily get lost and perish somewhere out there in the mud.

But fortunately, I am not a stupid, drunken person from the olden days. I’m a very sensible middle-aged man who signed up to a group walk with a bunch of other sensible middle-aged people, led by an experienced local guide, the very knowledgeable Kevin, the Thames Estuary Man.

Ah, one last thing. Foulness Island has been largely owned by the Ministry of Defence since WW1 and is still used today for military munitions testing (managed by the shadowy QinetiQ defence technology company). Over two million munitions were apparently tested in WW1. At the start of the Broomway, there’s a sign that reminds you of this:

Warning: Do not approach or touch any object as it may explode and kill you.

So, on that cheery note, how did the walk go? Well, I won’t describe it all, because there are people who write far, far better than me who have also done the walk. The brilliant author, Robert Macfarlane, for one. So read his recent account for a proper understanding of what it’s really like out on the Broomway.

All I would say is, he went out on a far nicer day than me. As you will see from the photos below, the weather last Sunday started OK, but it soon became rather cloudy and very, very windy and very, very cold. It’s fair to say my feet ended up absolutely soaked and frozen. But yes, in case you were wondering, I didn’t get lost, didn’t sink in the mud, didn’t drown and didn’t pick up any unexploded bombs. Sorry.

It was a quite brilliant walk though - if you like endless views of wet sand and massive skies (I do). I definitely want to return, to see what it’s like on a beautifully sunny day. It was tricky to take photos, given there’s actually fuck all out there to photograph, but hopefully some of the pictures below capture the vastness and emptiness of it all.

Oh, and if you thought you had heard of the Broomway recently, then you probably read about the Amazon driver who got stuck in her van a hundred metres or so out on the path. She was three days into her new job, called for advice at the start of the path, and was told that if her satnav told her to follow the path, then she should. It’s really why we shouldn’t rely on maps on phones.

*A certain Fraser Leggat will no doubt be fact-checking this claim, and then messaging me to kick off what will no doubt be a rather lengthy discussion (which I’m sure we’ve already had) on where seas start and end. I’ve known him a long time. We’ve had a lot of dull conversations like this.

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My group of sensible middle-aged walkers, setting off into the unknown.

A mysterious black box sticking out of the mud. I'm sure it wasn't an unexploded bomb, but at least it was something to photograph.

A typical view from the Broomway. Look closely and you will see a pole in the distance. We headed towards it.

The pole, as we get closer to it. Look, I did say there wasn't a lot to photograph around here, didn't I?

Looking back to the increasingly cloudy skies, and yes, the same pole as we left it behind and walked ever onwards across the mud flats.

Big skies and endless mud.

A very typical view out on the Broomway. If anyone is interested, I have another 137 photos like this one. Message me if you want to see them all.

Our group, soldiering on, in the cold and the wind.

Half the group chose to take the shorter route back to the shore, missing out on... well, more mud and more skies, but also a ship wreck!

The remanning group, heading further out towards the shipwreck.

Finally we made it to the shipwreck. The Pisces was a pleasure launch that ran aground in 1982 after heading out into a storm from nearby Southend, during a 21st birthday celebration. Everyone survived and the wreck looks ace, so it was all worthwhile.

The Broomway walk: 15 March 2026 // Distance walked: 18.10km // Elevation gain: 3metres apparently (this must have been the steps up and over the sea wall, because everything else was flat as fuck). You'll find the Pisces roughly at the furthest point of the route out in the mud. A note of caution: Please don't try to follow this route without an experienced guide.

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