Magwitch

Darnet became our island home during our trip. I look at it now, from across the water in the Medway towns and I miss it.

A few photographs from my recent trip with Stephen Turner to the Medway Estuary. Day One we stopped off on Hoo Ness Island

Detainee Deflation Arrivals Lounge Returned

The Blue Mermaid had just headed up river as we began to carefully stow all our kit into Magwitch, examining every item for the unwelcome brown tailed moth caterpillars encountered in huge numbers on Darnet. My arms, neck and legs were already beginning to show signs of the skin irritation caused by their toxic hairs, as Carol and I vigorously shook our tents and quickly packed them - to prevent any re-infestation near ‘emigration control’ on the narrow strip of shingle where

Room with a view The island has worked its magic, as islands often do. I stand at the gun emplacement window looking across the saltmarsh. I have been here how long? Half hour? Maybe more. Thinking of....nothing, just watching the sailing boats head out to sea and the terns fold their wings and dive for fish before emerging with a splash. The tide drifts in and, somewhere in the distance I can hear a cuckoo calling the hour away on Hoo Ness. Outside, on the mainland I know it

V for victory 1945 Darnet Fort is on the edge of the deep water channel used by all the boats and ships using the docks, moorings and marinas of the Medway and I enjoy watching them pass, whilst gazing out through a casement window of 10 inch thick steel daubed with a dot, dot, dot, dash and V for victory. The morse code reference probably dates it as a leaving present from the Observation Corps stationed here in WW2 when they left their isolated outpost for a final time afte

I was awake all night, first following the Moon (see the instagram feed), before transferring allegiance to the sun, which finally showed above the horizon at around 5am and threw its pink glow onto the grey granite interior of the fort. Bird song from the marsh without, had its counterpoint of blackbird and pigeon calls from within, with no breath of wind to interrupt or distort. I have hours 'in the can' to play with :-) Red Dawn outside Darnet Fort, Friday 28 May 5am Red D

I came close to crushing a clutch of herring gull eggs for the second time in eight years today, while Carol and I were exploring the perimeter of the fort on Darnet Island (The first time was on the Beaulieu River in 2013 when I was planning the live-work with nature project that became the Exbury Egg - www.exburyegg.me). I managed (both times) to step away, but I now can’t stop thinking again about the fragility of both these nesting sites and of nature in general, as we b

Our island home. We are leaving the island, only for a few hours but we fear invaders will colonise during our absence. Not the hoards of invasive brown tailed moth caterpillars that swarm over every item we leave on the ground. No, those invaders were here first. We fear human Invaders. The island has become home. "I'm going upstairs to fetch the water," Steve says, referring to our fortress kitchen reached by crossing the moat on a scaffold plank that bounces and squeeks wh

The oystercatchers tell me to get lost. We are not wanted, that much is clear. They haven’t got the memo, the sea pies, geese and gulls. failed to get up to speed with the growing consensus that People Need Nature. or maybe it is us that has failed to read the memo. Nature doesn’t need us. Doesn’t want us. “Clear off, get lost,” the oystercatchers and greylags shout. “Get off our patch,” the herring gull cry. “Be gone,” the caterpillars signal in shadow play, even as they att

I couldn't sleep more that a few winks last night as I was in thrall to the full moon once more; from its rising (a little blurry, unfocused and orange) to a shining 'star' brightening the heavens and touching the land and river with cool, clear light as it drew the tide in. With tide, the ships came as they always have. I remembered a drawing made on this very spot, of another full moon one cold December in 1997, when a coaster passed by with a festive tree attached to the f

Day 3 10am May 26 The pigeons turn calm appraising eyes our way from roosts in different holes and gutters along the fort's inner rim and I'm reminded of early scenes from Hitchcock's The Birds - sometime before the gulls arrive to seriously revolt against the good folks of Bodega Bay, California and, I guess, all humanity in general. (Tippi Hedron should never have taken that pair of caged lovebirds there - it was a distinct provocation). Meanwhile here in our fort just acr

High tide by Stephen Turner The birds rose at high tide, fluttering above the island as their nests disappeared under water. There was a panic emanating from the gull colony on Bishop's Ness which carried across the water and reached us as we stood helplessly on the island fort watching it's demise. I felt the panic touch me too as it would if I was watching a human tragedy unfold. I could feel the birds distress, the weeks of courting and competing for nest sites, the laying

Ready for my close up "it doesn't take long," I say to Steve, "before you go entirely feral." I am sitting on the causeway of Horrid Hill with a chunk of (vegan warning) Spam on the point of my knife, holding the rope tethering our boat Magwitch to the shore. I am windswept, salt worn, fingernails black from wood fired. The people walking past gog at me. A women passing wearing vibrant lipstick calls, "I love boating, what a great life." You wouldn't look so glamorous if you

Day 2 May 25 around 1pm We have just arrived here on Darnet Island after being chased all the way from Hoo by a sudden squall that seemed to to change direction simply to pursue poor Magwitch across the water. We arrived wet and shivering and shivered more at the thought of having to collect dry kindling to start a fire. It was therefore with great gratitude to previous unknown explorers, that we dicovered that the job had been done for us. We simply needed a match. When we

Gulls above Normarsh Luncheon options!!

We cast off and head out on the river in the brief gap between showers. Steve looks a little nervous as the heavily laden inflatable boat, christened Magwitch, is buffeted by the winds and I realize I forgot to pack the sea sickness tablets. The river is busy with Monday morning activity. Orange and white dredgers churn up river with the tide and the army are out, giddying in circles as they practice manoeuvres. Cool men in Ray bans and camouflage ignore my cheery wave. As we

Beginning at the window left of the gang plank. Tide arching in. Deep water channel. V for victory. Dot, dot,dot dash. Normarsh. Two Brent geese flying past. Wren singing crystal bright from deep in the bramble. Towards the saltings . Gulls rising, geese crying, Steve drawing. A tangle of bramble. A slice of blue sky, cranes silenced, dipped in reverence towards the winds. Kingsnorth, or what’s left of it. Scene of climate crusade. Gordon’s chimney now just a memory. A tangle

The island rises up from sea, the colour of a wood pigeons wing as I sit in the bow motoring the short distance across the main channel. The water is peppered with rain, visibility is reduced. We feel so exposed, attracting concerned looks from the few yaughtsmen braving the weather. The fort is a squat dark stain on the horizon. It is a safe haven from the storm racing up behind us. Despite it all I feel strangely tranquil, calmed by the waves as they pass me and head toward