I had an extraordinary experience today. We were driving across the lowlying area of Thanet where the Wantsum - an arm of the sea like the Swale - once flowed, separating Thanet from civilisation.
We saw a sign saying Road Closed - but didn't take much notice, because it said we could still have access to where we were going. However, when we arrived at a place called Grove Ferry, beside the River Stour, where there is a great marshland, which is chiefly bird reserve, the road was closed again. We drove past, wanting to see why - because we could see that the marsh had become a vast, glittering shallow lake. The wind rippled it, the sunlight broke over it and it was a completely different scene. This area is criss-crossed with a series of ditches, the earliest ones created in the middle ages by farming monks. There was another phase of Dutch land reclamation in the 17thC - with a corresponding increase in the number of houses with elaborate gable ends.
As we drove down the road we saw that it really was closed - because it was under water. The water was not tremendously deep, but the road dips down there, and may have been undermined by soil erosion. This is unusual, because I noticed today that most of the road in the area are actually slightly raised, like causeways, on an agger of clay - which covers the chalk here. We got out of the car and gawped - there were assorted waterfowl swimming on the surface, including swans, so it must have been a foot or so deep I guess. The road curved away behind a hedge, so we couldn't see where or whether it emerged from the deluge. It created a really magical effect, as M said "it's like a totally different place" - and even the odd traffic cone and field gate protruding from the waters couldn't destroy the eerie feeling.
Infuriatingly I did not have a camera with me, so cannot illustrate the scene.
Prior to this, our peak experience had been in the churchyard at Chislet - where we noticed that the West wall of the church was probably late Saxon (IMHO) or early Norman (Mark's view) and contained a fair bit of Thanet sandstone, a seam of now "extinct" local building material that probably ran out by the 12thC to judge from where and how it's used. Further up the wall were some very fine bits of lintel and ashlar - M thought they were from Richborough - but I wondered if they would really bring stuff all the way there... they might have of course, it was easier when there was so much water for transportation purposes. I imagined they might be from some local villa - he said they wouldn't use such high grade materials - so I am visualising some sort of tiny precint/shrine/altar that might have been used by the locals. We couldn't get into the church, sadly. I would like to know more about it. It has a rather appealing tower - truncated.
Lots of violets in the graveyard, and we saw hibernating butterflies. We had lunch outside a pub - in t-shirts. I am feeling a lot more sanguine about the prospect of spring.
We saw a sign saying Road Closed - but didn't take much notice, because it said we could still have access to where we were going. However, when we arrived at a place called Grove Ferry, beside the River Stour, where there is a great marshland, which is chiefly bird reserve, the road was closed again. We drove past, wanting to see why - because we could see that the marsh had become a vast, glittering shallow lake. The wind rippled it, the sunlight broke over it and it was a completely different scene. This area is criss-crossed with a series of ditches, the earliest ones created in the middle ages by farming monks. There was another phase of Dutch land reclamation in the 17thC - with a corresponding increase in the number of houses with elaborate gable ends.
As we drove down the road we saw that it really was closed - because it was under water. The water was not tremendously deep, but the road dips down there, and may have been undermined by soil erosion. This is unusual, because I noticed today that most of the road in the area are actually slightly raised, like causeways, on an agger of clay - which covers the chalk here. We got out of the car and gawped - there were assorted waterfowl swimming on the surface, including swans, so it must have been a foot or so deep I guess. The road curved away behind a hedge, so we couldn't see where or whether it emerged from the deluge. It created a really magical effect, as M said "it's like a totally different place" - and even the odd traffic cone and field gate protruding from the waters couldn't destroy the eerie feeling.
Infuriatingly I did not have a camera with me, so cannot illustrate the scene.
Prior to this, our peak experience had been in the churchyard at Chislet - where we noticed that the West wall of the church was probably late Saxon (IMHO) or early Norman (Mark's view) and contained a fair bit of Thanet sandstone, a seam of now "extinct" local building material that probably ran out by the 12thC to judge from where and how it's used. Further up the wall were some very fine bits of lintel and ashlar - M thought they were from Richborough - but I wondered if they would really bring stuff all the way there... they might have of course, it was easier when there was so much water for transportation purposes. I imagined they might be from some local villa - he said they wouldn't use such high grade materials - so I am visualising some sort of tiny precint/shrine/altar that might have been used by the locals. We couldn't get into the church, sadly. I would like to know more about it. It has a rather appealing tower - truncated.
Lots of violets in the graveyard, and we saw hibernating butterflies. We had lunch outside a pub - in t-shirts. I am feeling a lot more sanguine about the prospect of spring.
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