Day 7/10: Shellness and Harty with Jo Eden
I wake up in a chalet on a holiday park. It's dead fancy. It's got the vibe of a campsite – cars quietly crunching down the gravel paths in between the rows of chalets. Bin area, kids running around, crap weather, a stoic vibe of people who are going to enjoy their holiday regardless. Wind is coming up from the sea but you can't see the sea. This isn't the destination but it's very close to it. We're in an adjacent environment that isn't the one we came for but is a large part of the experience of that environment we did come for – the one over the wall. Jo picks me up and we drive a short while round the corner. We pass the boot fair signs for this morning but there's no boot fair today on account of the weather. How did everyone know?
We turn left into a grassy field with a row of brightly coloured beach huts facing towards the sea. I ask Jo about them, thinking they're some historical part of traditional Sheppey but of course they're pretty new, obviously. Look at them! It's apparently a new bit of investment. My mate Aless's family used to have a beach hut. I always thought they lived in it but looking at these now I can see there's no windows. It's more like a locker that you can get into. You can get changed in it. Jo tells me about the Victorian changing and bathing machines. She sends me links to this pretty incredible photographic archive compiled by Trevor Edwards: https://pbase.com/luckytrev/image/44844332
Check out the bathing tents! Jo tells me about a course she's been on about coastal town developments and that in Victorian Brighton homes were built facing away from the seafront to avoid the worst of the wind. We talk about what to do at the end of the course when you have your own experiences and research to share.
We get back in the car and travel down to a car park with steps up to the top of the sea wall. From up here you can see along the coast to Shellness where the Short brothers started their experiments with flying machines. We keep walking even though it's getting proper muddy underfoot. Our wellies are in the boot. We're talking about art projects and I'm thinking about drones to tap into that nerd/tech-side men can get behind. Jo educates me on long shore drift. We turn back and spot what looks like a fancy toilet block but on the other side it turns out there's a cafe attached. We go all in – butties, teas, cheesecakes. It's 11.45am. Hedonism. The owner is local and she's done the place up over lockdown. She's got an allotment round the corner and the menu is based on whatever she's got loads off, hence the blackberry cheesecake.
Next stop is Muswell Manor, where the aviators hung out. The view out over the fields is quite impactful and the statue of the Short brothers by Barbara Street is actually really good. It's super dynamic and them looking up, across the fields and into the skies really ties them to the environment. It's smart. Jo tells me about a performance she was involved in here with Big Fish Arts and about the heritage trail that ties all these bits on the island together. We decide there should be a heritage cycle route too. And if the Muswell Manor caravan park was mine I'd attach wings to all the caravans and have runways.
Jo takes me to a spot she really likes called Raptor's viewpoint. We can hear the birds but we can't see them. Jo loves the sound of this place. We talk about sound recordings and the work of the sound artist Jane Pitt – check out here work here: http://www.janepitt.co.uk/
I like the fact that we can't see the birds. We can't collect them, check them off our list. There's an info board with some lovely drawings of the birds and their different coloured feathers but this isn't actually that helpful. Jo tells me it's the jizz we need. Jizz apparently means the behaviour of the birds, the way it moves. This bench with bird wings and plane wings is great and the poem sums up this place for me.
On the way back to the car we greet some guys with bit telephoto lenses, talk about farming families and rural crime. This idea about collecting sticks with me as we get to Harty. It's the last part of the island that I wanted to tick off, to say I've done all the parts – east and west, north and south. This idea of trying to get to know a place has been playing on my mind. We pull up and crush over some farm machinery. It's DEAD rural round here. There's chickens. And lichen. Harty church doesn't have a path to its door, which feels like a massive rebellion. Jo buys me a guide, which is very necessary because it's got a long and quite complicated history. The bell-cote is amazing – the thick wood is something else. There's a picture of Jesus that makes me and Jo freak out, it's like he's blinking. We see the names of the farming families in the stained glass windows. And the chest is here. Roger at Minster Gatehouse Museum told me about this chest, how it was stolen and rocked up at an auction house when someone recognised it and stopped the sale. The guide book says that the steelworks in Sheerness offered up the steel to make a protective gate that the chest now sits behind. We sneak behind the scenes.
We go down to the where the Harty ferry used to come to shore. This is before the bridges were built so we're talking ages ago. The Ferry House Inn is doing a roaring trade and we're walk through their nice beer garden to get to the real stuff. The sound of the seaweed singing is incredible. I try to take a video but all you can hear is the wind. We can walk out quite far before it gets too slippery. It's super cool to be stood this far into the Swale. Sheppey becomes less of a island when the tide is this low.
