Mudlarks share their favourite finds, discuss the permit problem, and Simon Clarke reveals why so many artefacts end up with the knives and forks
A grey, leaden sky. Gulls circling. It is 4 degrees and there is a distinct smell of dank sludge and a crunch underfoot. The water rolls back at low tide on the foreshore of the River Thames. Above, on this blustery morning, people walk briskly and cycle furiously to work. To the left, a crane creaks lifting oil drums onto a dockside, and to the right, a glimpse of the London Eye.
Once a laborious job for impoverished and destitute Victorians, mudlarking was the scouring of the riverbed for valuable objects to be sold at market. In the 18th and 19th centuries, the Thames was riddled with disease and only extreme desperation could have persuaded people to go wading in search of sellable items.
Today, mudlarking is the pastime of over 4,000 hobbyists and historians in London who brave the filth and the stench of the Thames to find artefacts and objects to study and preserve. Using trowels and metal detectors, some are professional archaeologists, and others are ordinary people in search of their own piece of history. London Museum works with mudlarks to record finds and document the history of the Thames foreshore.
Favourite Fragments
Monika Buttling-Smith, Administrator at Hands on History
Roman Oil Lamp (70-140 AD)
Monika’s Roman oil lamp [Photo: Thames Festival Trust]
Monika Buttling-Smith, an inter-tidal archaeologist and Thames Festival Trust mudlark, found this oil lamp dated between 70 – 140 AD. Made from mica-dusted ceramic, fired in a Roman kiln it is an extremely rare and intact example of an object used by an ancient civilisation.
“I especially love it because the last time it was used, it brightened a Roman room, shining light on a mosaic floor, people wearing togas, possibly eating Garum and stuffed larks,” says Monika. She muses on how the Romans would feel if they had a glimpse of the modern world, “the oil lamp is a portal through time.”
Simon Clarke, Director of the Thames Explorer Trust
10th Century Fish Trap
Simon’s fish trap as found [Photo: Simon Clarke]
Simon has found many interesting artefacts in over two decades of work on the Thames including a silver Tudor thimble with engraved initials. However, his favourite find is rather less glamorous.
While leading a group of schoolchildren along the foreshore on one of the Thames Explorer guided tours, Simon noticed a collection of sticks. “I saw a right-angled stick. Right-angles that tell you when something is manmade. I saw another piece of stick and then gradually I realised that there was a structure stretching about 15-feet across the foreshore. All the sticks were the same width, and none radiated out. They were all completely parallel.” Simon phoned the Museum of London, and they came down to confirm that it was indeed a 10th century fish trap.
“The great thing about it was that it came up out of the mud after a thousand years. You couldn’t pick it up. You couldn’t own it. You couldn’t take it home. It was a stick.”
Returning three months later to the same spot, the structure was gone. After a thousand years of preservation, Simon happened to have stumbled across the fish trap during the finite time it was visible. This is part of the allure of mudlarking, “you can’t stick it on eBay, but you can enjoy the experience.”
Sam Green, Thames Mudlark
17th Century Butterpot Sherd
Midlands Purple butterpot sherd [Photo: @illegalMigraine]
In 1662, Charles II passed a statute requiring butterpots to be stamped with a maker’s mark so that those found to be underfilled or containing rancid butter could be traced back to the offending vendor. Sam Green, a hobbyist, found this sherd dated between 1662-1692. It is from a Midlands Purple butterpot, stamped with the potter’s mark.
“The 1662 Act was superseded by a 1692 statute which ended this requirement so butterpot stamps can be closely dated but are also consequently very rare.”
Zoe Anderson, Thames Creative Mudlark
Mid-century Chocolate Milk Bottle
[Photos: Zoe Anderson]
The Thames is a timeline. As with this 20th century milk bottle found by Zoe Anderson, not all finds are hundreds of years old but the appeal is still there.
“This is not massively historical, but I adore it: an Express Dairies chocolate milk bottle. This style of bottle was introduced in 1957, per the advert also shown. Mid-century bottles are generally awesome, but this was the first thing I dug intact out of the mud.”
Ebb and Flow
At 346km long, the Thames flows through central London to the sea. Low tide reveals a foreshore that is referred to as Britain’s ‘longest archaeological site’. Since the establishment of the City of London nearly 2,000 years ago, the river has been an ancient custodian of discarded and lost human artefacts preserved by the thick, anaerobic mud.
“The experience of finding artefacts on the foreshore is really unique. I don’t know if it exists in the same way anywhere else in the world,” says Simon Clarke, Director of the Thames Explorer Trust. “You learn from it, witness it, come back to it.” The Thames is there for everyone to enjoy, with a history that is accessible for all.
However, it has come at a cost.
To mudlark on the foreshore, you must now have an annual permit issued by the Port of London Authority (PLA). In 2018-19, 200 permits were granted. Prior to this, mudlarking was unregulated as so few people were interested in it. During the pandemic, a combination of the social media boom, rise in influencer culture and books written and published on the subject led to a sharp rise in permit applications. Now, with a cap of 4,000 permits in place and a waitlist of 10,000, it is clear that more people than ever are eager to treasure hunt in the muck of the Thames.
In many cases, mudlark ‘influencers’ were combing the riverbed long before they became known online. However, it was lockdown that gave them the social media followings they now enjoy, allowing them to monetise their hobby more effectively. Top influencer mudlarks include Lara Meiklem, who has 176K followers on Instagram (@london.mudlark); Si-Finds, who has 175K subscribers on YouTube (@sifinds); and Nicola White who has 814K followers on Facebook (@NicolaWhiteTidelineArt).
“Not only do these guys have YouTube and Instagram accounts with 100,000s of followers but they also regularly provide interviews to magazines/ newspapers and collaborate with places like St Pauls and London Museum to hold major exhibitions. Their true reach and influence over the last couple of years has grown enormous,” says Sam Green.
This online visibility has, in part, contributed to an increased number of people down on the foreshore and applying for permits. Now, a backlog is causing rivalry between old-time mudlarks and hobby mudlarks.
Sam elaborates, “as someone who started over 10 years ago, I would say the permit backlog is absolutely due to mudlark influencers bringing it into the mainstream.” Anna Clark fears she may lose her permit. The PLA are making it mandatory to have found something of historic significance to renew a permit due to the waitlist demand. She explains, “my finds are precious and interesting to me, but I think portable antiquities, who record archaeological finds of significance, would laugh me out of town.”
Hannah Johns* has been a paid-up and permitted mudlark for three years and has just had her request to renew denied as a result of oversubscription. Experiencing the side-effects of the permit tension, she reports that in the past ‘older larks’ have ‘demanded’ to see her permit.
Although digital platforms have promoted the visibility of mudlarking creating an accessible and enjoyable way to engage with history, it has come at the cost of archaeological preservation and integrity, creating tensions between different groups of mudlarks. The influx of mudlarks has been mainly at an amateur level, resulting in more people with less experience and perhaps less care digging away at the foreshore. With interest showing no sign of slowing, the real problem is people without permits taking to the foreshore anyway.
Simon Clarke lives on a houseboat on the Thames. When asked why all this matters, he explains, “there’s a noticeable depletion in the number of foreshore finds. People assume there’s infinite artefacts to be found. There aren’t.” Since noticing this pattern, Simon has put in place a no removal policy that seeks to preserve the archaeology of the Thames for future generations. People are encouraged to take pictures, make sketches, and take notes, but not to remove any artefacts from the foreshore.
The ‘Kitchen Drawer Scenario’ is Simon’s analogy for what happens to many Thames treasures when taken home. Using the example of clay pipes, the ‘SI unit of mudlarking,’ Simon explains, “you take it home and show your friends. They’re not particularly interested because it looks like a piece of electrical insulation. Then, you put it on your mantelpiece, but it’s not particularly pretty. After a while, you chuck it in the kitchen drawer. When you remove an object from its context, you remove its significance.”
There are valuable treasures to be found, but they are few and far between. Most finds are of no monetary worth, only valuable in their historical context which Simon and the Thames Explorer Trust, the PLA, and the Thames Festival Trust seek to preserve. Why do people still do it? “It’s just a kind of greed. It’s a possession thing. In my experience, the more experienced people take much less,” says Simon.
Artefacts are supposed to be recorded with the Finds Liaison Officers. When they are not recorded, rare and historical finds are not preserved by appropriate experts. This reduces their significance and deprives the public of access to history that would have otherwise been displayed.
Simon’s proposed solution is for new permit holders to attend a two-hour online session so that the kitchen drawer scenario and environmental and historical effects of mudlarking can be explained. Individuals would understand the importance of reporting new finds and could make an informed decision about what to take away with them. They would know the importance of responsible mudlarking and leaving a minimal footprint on the foreshore.
For those who seek the thrill of treasure hunting as presented online, avoiding a damaging situation requires widespread education. Striking a balance between keeping history accessible and engaging, while raising awareness that the value of archaeology is in the story and the context is difficult. After all, a kitchen drawer scenario is not in anyone’s interests.
Simon’s advice? “Go along, just take knowledge and improve the world as much as you can.”
*names have been changed