The Broomway.
The Broomway is an other-worldly public right-of-way path nestled in the mouth of the Thames estuary, accessible by Ministry Of Defence land north of Shoeburyness in Essex. I first read about it in Robert Macfarlane’s book The Old Ways and was taken by the passing on of local knowledge that guides people across this deadly, featureless patch of sand. In October 2021, I was finally able to fulfil a dream of walking the 6 miles of the Broomway.
Upon reading The Old Ways, I didn’t look up images of the Broomway, not after even the third time through. But through Macfarlane’s description, I had pictured a landscape devoid of anything but broomsticks, with sand stretching away in all directions, and the land even disappearing after a time. It hadn’t even occured to me when booking this walk with qualified mountain leader Tom Bennett, that I should look up where I was going.
I actually hesitated after my visit to share the images on Instagram, because I want you to go and experience it for yourself. However, because of the variety of weather conditions that will converge on any particular day, and depending on what time of year you visit, or whether the walk is morning or afternoon, you’ll have a completely different experience to me. That being said, I’m leaving the images until the end of this post so that you can choose to look at them, or not.
“Away from the sea wall ran the causeway, perhaps five yards wide, formed of brick rubble and grey hardcore. It headed out to sea over the mud, before disappearing into water and mist. Poles hd been driven into the mud to either side of the path, six feet tall, marking out its curling line. There were a few tussocks of eelgrass. The water's surface was sheened with greys and silvers, like the patina on old mirror-glass. Otherwise, the causeway appeared to lead into a textureless world of white.” ~ Robert Macfarlane, The Old Ways
History and peril of the Broomway.
Before a bridge at Havengore Creek was built in 1922, there was no access to Foulness Island other than on foot. The “Broom Road” was first recorded in 1419, though with evidence on Foulness Island of Roman habitation, is considered to be an older waymark than this. So markers - that resembled broom handles - were spaced carefully, 30 yards in distance each, across Maplin Sands to Foulness Island allowing residents, postmen, armies and farmers to cross safely.
Tom does a really good job of drawing you in to the history of the way by spacing out his stories, gradually getting more distressing the further you get from land and the farther out into the sea you walk. Such stories include why the Broomway is notorious as “the most perilous path in Britain”. Once you step out, even on a bright day, you can sense how disorienting it would be should fog come in. Though there are waymarkers to follow (and GPS co-ordinates), if your eyesight goes for whatever reason, or you start to get stressed, or even if you fall on the ridged sand surface, you could very quickly get “lost”.
There are no longer any brooms to follow, but wooden stakes are still visible, and you have metal poles to guide ships. There’s a funny patch of grass, that Macfarlane himself uses as a guide when he veers too far out into the Thames estuary (and the North Sea). And though you should generally be able to see the land on your left or right depending on if you’re going towards or from Foulness, we were told that people have lost their lives cutting straight across. Similar to Morecambe Bay in Lancashire, the ground here is peaty and boggy and can easily in certain sections suck in you, trapping you.
Along with the limited landscape, there is danger with tides due to the location. If you are walking towards Foulness (heading North), the tide will essentially sweep around and behind you. So even if you are on your way back to Wakering Stairs (one of the main entrances to the way), you’ll still get cut off. And if you have cut inland, getting stuck in the mud so to speak, you will likely drown. This is how the Foulness Burial Register records 66 bodies recovered from the sands since 1600, with perhaps over 100 people having been drowned in total [Robert Macfarlane and Patrick Arnold via Wikipedia].
So this is why you are urged to walk only with an experienced guide. Plus, you need to gain MOD permission as sometimes they close off the area for shooting, or whatever they do (there are some creepy giant hangers).
“My brain was beginning to move unusually, worked upon and changed by the mind-altering substances of this offshore world, and by the elation that arose from the counter-intuition of walking securely on water. Out there, nothing could be only itself. The eye fed on false colour-values. Similes and metaphors bred and budded. Mirages of scale occurred, and tricks of depth. Gull-eagles dipped and glided in the outer reaches of the mist. / Walking always with us were our reflections, our attentive ghost selves.” ~ Robert Macfarlane, The Old Ways
Dreamworld of the Broomway.
Looking back, some 6 months later, it does feel a dream world. These are some things I remember:
the sound of waterproof boots slapping on the shallow pools of water
stepping from ridge to ridge
following tracks of varying-sized wader birds; oystercatchers, gulls, sandpipers
the Maypole and other waymarkers not particularly getting closer
the sands and the sea and the sky merging into one so that it was boundaryless
sitting on the cold incongruous ferroconcrete wall at Asplin Head having a cup of tea, biscuit and sandwich
murmurations (though this could in fact be part of the dream)
We had set off at something like 1 or 1.30pm, and it was October (before the clocks changed), so light was dimming come 3pm. Though the day had been blue skied with minimal clouds, there was a freshness on the skin developing. Standing again by the Maypole while Tom weaved more tales of peril and history, I couldn’t help but turn my back to the group to stand looking out to sea. In the other direction the sun was setting, yet looking north, outwards, the colour was flat in multiple similar shades of blue and grey. I wanted to continue feeling the strangeness for as long as possible, before turning home and back to the light.
Returning to look at the setting sun, it was a clear movement towards the safety of such warmth, a waymarker in itself. Falsely, however, as we needed to be to the right hand side of the sun, and so were in fact heralded back onto the true path via giddy conversation and many photographs taken. At this point the ground was completely glistening with reflections of pinks, yellows, oranges and pure black. It was magical and I didn’t want it to end. Moving on, thank you Sun, more steps forward and off, thank you Sun, quick look back so as not to forget, thank you sea.
“We lack - we need - a term for those places where one experiences a ‘transition’. What might we call such incidents and instances? ‘Xenotopias’, perhaps, meaning ‘foreign places’ or ‘out-of-place places’, a term to complement our ‘utopias’ and ‘dystopias’.” ~ Rober Macfarlane, The Old Ways
I’d like to head out and experience the Broomway on another day. No way could the weather be the same. So enjoying it at moonlight for instance, or in mist, as unnerving as that would be. But then again, maybe I want to retain the experience I have already had, and almost forgotten.
Photos of the Broomway.
So here you are, if you want to take a peek. They can’t truly exhibit the full flux of emotions anyway, but they give you an idea of what the way is. If you want to go without prior knowledge, then head back up.
