Heath Mount AND London Road
61 Metres
200 feet
2nd July 2025
Twin Peaks
The forecast was for persistent rain (the first significant precipitation in weeks) starting at 9am. So, when, half awake and in that contented slumber state, the first few heavy drops landed just inches above my head on whatever the modern version of canvas is these days, it was time to leap into action. It was 7am.
When I say leap, what I actually did was roll about for a few minutes in an effort to attach whatever bit of clothing was to hand to my body. Having eventually achieved a degree of decency I unzipped the tent flap and rolled out into the early misty morning day. Isolated large drops of rain landed all around, but it wasn’t yet the predicted downpour.
I rattled around for a bit, setting up the small gas burner, placing a tea bag in a mug whilst simultaneously pulling metal pegs from the rock-hard earth, and decanting various bits and bobs from inside my little mobile home and throwing them into the car boot. It’s surprising what you can achieve when suitably motivated.
Twenty minutes later, suitably lubricated and with all evidence of human occupation removed from the two-metre square patch of grass that had been my bed for the previous two nights, I set off towards the “facilities” for a quick wash and brush up. As I set off, coming in the opposite direction was the friendly woman who ran the site, and I had last seen when checking in. At 7.50 in the morning, and with no other evidence of life, naturally my immediate thought was “what have I done?”
“Good morning,” she said as we neared. “Good morning,” I replied, “ehm… have I not paid you?”
“No, no…. I mean yes you have, but I saw you taking down your tent and just wanted to thank you for staying with us.”
This doesn’t happen in real life. I was genuinely surprised, thanked her back and then got on with my day. Naturally the site received a 5-star rating some days later.
I was going home but had factored in two more “tops” on my journey back. The first was going to be Southend-on-Sea Unitary Authority, and then, closer to London, Thurrock Unitary Authority. It was going to be a long journey down through Norfolk, Suffolk and then Essex, but it was still early, and I was set on the idea of pulling over at the first greasy spoon (AKA diner) on whatever A roads I was going to be on, and getting stuck into a big breakfast and a large pot of tea.
I had a fairly good idea of the roads I was going to take and figured that something along the lines of the breakfast opportunity outlined above would materialise somewhere in the vicinity of the nearby town of Holt. As I approached Holt, the rain, which had stopped seconds after I had left the tent, began to show itself again, but before I knew it, I was beyond Holt with not a cafe in sight. Never mind, it would just be a matter of time before I came across a Happy Eater type roadside.
Time passed, as did countless fields, coppices and the occasional farm. I reached Norwich, which eased me onto a ring road not much shorter than the M25. Time continued to pass, as did countless fields, coppices and the occasional farm. I was now heading towards Ipswich, and so far, not a sniff of a mid-morning breakfast stop.
Under leaden skies that continued to threaten but not produce, I ploughed on south on the A140 and then, just west of Ipswich, on the A12 and towards London. It was late morning, and still not a hint of a roadside cafe or diner other than the occasional petrol station with their generic coffee brands and fast fat grab fests.
There’s always a moment in time when, despite the lofty principles, you have to admit defeat, and that came halfway between Colchester and Chelmsford. Apart from tap water and a small bag of mints, the longed-for breakfast had proved to be a dismal disappointment. With the adventure in Southend still ahead, I had to take an executive decision and pulled in at the BP petrol station just short of Witham. A sign just before the turning had indicated “services”, but (and at risk of legal action by the company in question), the ubiquitous global refreshments retailer outlet on offer suggested otherwise. Given I now had no option I shelled out some hard-won bucks for the soapy sludge they called coffee, and several more for a lump of stodgy dough that was shaped like a croissant. Out of the window, the long-awaited rain at last appeared. What an abject experience.
With “breakfast” now swishing around inside of me, I continued on to Chelmsford and then took the A130 directly south towards Southend. There had been one benefit from stopping at the “services”. I’d taken the opportunity to double check on my objective at Heath Mount. On previous checks I had not been entirely clear on the exact spot. I did another one of my random searches. The result on this occasion: “The highest point in Southend-on-Sea is London Road.”
London Road! What? I searched the London Road suggestion, and it was at least a mile away from Heath Mount. I went back to the source and read on. “Alternatively, and at an equal height, is Heath Mount.”
I had made an important discovery. An authority with twin peaks, although at just 61 metres perhaps twin flats was a more appropriate expectation. Either way I had found this out in just the nick of time. If I hadn’t discovered this till later, I doubt if I would have the enthusiasm, or indeed the life force enough to have returned. Looking at the two locations I decided to chalk off Heath Mount first, and by now had a pretty good idea where to go.
With the rain easing I pulled up on Belfairs Park Drive, a small cul-de-sac just off Woodside, another small road on an interwar estate just south of the A127, but nowhere near the centre of Southend, or indeed the sea.
On Belfairs and Woodside – the inspiration I am sure for many a suburban novel
At the end of the drive there was an entrance to some woods with occasional dog walkers entering and exiting. I walked into the appropriately named Belfair Woods and after a couple of hundred metres rationalised that I must have passed over the highest point, so returned to the car. There was no helpful sign to indicate it was Heath Mount, but I was satisfied that the first part of the mission had been accomplished.
Entrance to the Woods
The heady heights at 200 feet
Back at the car I checked my bearings and then set off, winding my way through unfamiliar streets until I reached the London Road (A13) where I turned right, eventually turning left into Tattershall Gardens and pulling over. There was another peak to conquer. I looked south and directly towards a grey smudge at the end of the straight road. Just a hint of the Thames through the drizzle. If it had been a brighter day, I might have been able to see the eastern tip of Canvey Island, but it wasn’t, so I didn’t (any excuse to slip in a Dr Feelgood reference). *
I walked back up to London Road. On the corner two children’s scooters lay abandoned on the greasy grass verge. Crime had reached a new low in these parts.
Within metres I was standing at the edge of Southend’s boundary with Essex and the town of Hadleigh. Other than a sign it would have been impossible to have distinguished between the two towns.
No ambiguity here
The back gardens of Tattershall Gardens backed onto a large field that largely sat in Essex. Looking south across the field the land appeared to be slightly higher at this point, sadly obscuring the estuary.
The rise of Hadleigh and towards the Thames
But it was Essex and the joint highest point in Southend was approximately somewhere on the pavement I was standing on and looking at a fenced off lump of wood that told a tall tale of some old tree or other being on this spot. There used to be a sign on the side of a modern building in Tavistock Square in London that stated, “Charles Dickens once lived in a house near this spot”. Someone with a sense of humour and objectivity had scrawled next to it “So what!” It was a well-made point and always used to make me smile. It’s gone now. I’m tempted to go back there one day and write on the same wall – “In memory of – So What”.
Maybe instead of a lump of wood commemorating a long-gone tree, a plaque on a large stone pointing out that this was the “joint” highest point in Southend might draw more interest. Just a thought.
So what?
I’d been to Southend-on-Sea several times over my life, mainly with the kids, but also on my bike. I had reached the end of the world’s longest pier (at least twice), and lost money in the arcades, so, on this bleak but humid day I had no desire to head down to the front. I still had one other objective for the day. The excitement of reaching the highest point in Thurrock Unitary Authority was rising and I needed to get going.
*I was going to insert the theme tune to Twin Peaks but having listened to it again for the first time in more than thirty years it’s far too mournful and depressing so here’s some Feelgood instead. Canvey Islands finest assaulting a defenceless French ville in 1976
El Colmado 57 