Camp for Climate action was a whirl wind of police searches, long hours and countless interviews but I loved every minute of it.

From the very second protestors landed at Lodge Hill Farm we were ready and waiting and able to spring into action. A tip off and good contacts ensured we were the first on the scene and before we knew it, the week that put us on ‘standby’ was well and truly underway.

Traipsing up Dux Court Road with heavy equipment and hopping over the guarded gate - which is really designed for people with much longer legs than mine - tested my fitness levels on numerous occasions.

It took a while for me not to take bag and body checks personally but as time went on it was something I was well used to and the process soon became routine.

Stand out moments were plentiful. Scaring miner’s leader Arthur Scargill half to death was one when I pounced on him as he arrived at Camp on the official first day.

I wasn’t even born when the 1984 Miner’s Strike was grabbing the headlines, but a quick history lesson from colleagues and memories of Billy Elliott left me in no doubt who he was as I drove down the lane on my way back to Strood. An emergency stop and a politer “Oi Arthur!” and I had the former union firebrand on tape.

My mystic powers have never been stronger and my ability to second guess Climate Camp’s next move was strange to say the least. I felt rather pleased with myself for being able to predict the first choice camp location - the Sturdee Sports and Social Club - and even prouder when I correctly guessed where the Rebel Raft regatta would launch its offensive. I am now thinking of a change in career path.

A standoff between police and a group of protestors who were refusing to be searched provided a particularly hairy moment on Wednesday. Stood behind a line of police, next to two police horses and below a police helicopter I witnessed distressing scenes of officers tackling campaigners to the ground. As they fought back more officers needed to be brought in to restrain them. I must admit I did feel my eyes fill up. I was glad to get back to the office at the end of that day. Regardless of your viewpoint it was difficult to watch.

When together we were offered the taste of a vegan flapjack I think we were all a little too quick to take a bite. Out of nowhere came a camp commandant shouting “Wash your hands, have you washed your hands?, Al; day I’ve been telling people to wash their hands!” We sheepishly ate up and moved away.

A bus ride to the Climate camp from Chatham train station with five bail breakers banned from Hoo after stopping a coaltrain in Yorkshire in June was an interesting experience.

I’m sure I looked quite a picture trying to balance a camera, record audio and write notes on my pad, all at the same time of fighting travel sickness and trying to keep upright.

The day of direct action was exhausting to say the least, but I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. Up at 6am and in for 7am, really set the tone of the day. It was difficult to not get carried away in the carnival atmosphere of the Orange march but in the back of mind I knew things were going to get much more heated. Driving around looking for ways out of Hoo in a bid to get footage back to the office was a mission in itself. Without a press card I would have been trapped but gentle persuasion won through.

Despite being threatened with arrest on a couple of occasions and being told riot police would charge at me if I didn’t move, officers were on the most part friendly and polite.

Adrenaline kicked in and I kept on the move, interviewing everyone I came across in the pursuit of covering the event fully. If I have learnt anything from this day it was to be prepared and never be surprised. As I stood watching around 20 people stages a sit down protest the heavens opened and the rain mac that had been dead weight earlier came in very handy. I was the only reporter at the scene in the end recording the final moments as police dragged the last protesters away. A crushed up biscuit did a great job of masking my grumbling stomach.

It was then back to the office. It was gone 10pm by the time we’d finished.

Paying a last visit to the camp on Monday strangely tugged at the old heart strings. It has been the biggest story of my journalistic career so far. I wanted to soak up the atmosphere for one last time and say good bye but as I watched the remaining few pack the question was when, not if , they will be back. KA

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The barricades guarding the main entrance to Climate Camp were finally lifted early on Saturday.

More than 1,000 people - some dressed as penguins - cocooned for a week on a remote Hoo field began to pour through ready to play their part in the Kingsnorth Day of Action.

It may have been the least contentious part of the much hyped protest, but that didn’t stop police carrying out random searches of the colourful parade as it passed the stop and search marquee in the grounds of Deangate Ridge golf course.

The procession was held here a short time as police moved to deny the protesters access to Hoo village. Officers moved in to block off roads and ensure the route, which was technically illegal having not been officialy approved, took the preferred A228.

Thirty minutes of tension ensued with police adamant protestors would take their choice of route to the power plant.

Finally at 9.30am led by a contingent of mounted police the protesters relented and began to march.

It took them more than two hours to reach the gates of power plant followed by a rally at the gates, not to Kingsnorth but the neighbouring industrial estate. Access to the main entrance having been blocked off by police.

Speeches on the threat posed by a new coal plant were delivered. Supporters the gates listening to drums and singing. The mood was light and peaceful.

Security inside the E.ON compound was undoubtedly tight. Police dogs circled the first perimeter fence and officers and vans sat looking out as protestors gathered in solidarity for their cause.

When the speeches were over much a police helicopter swooped overhead giving warnings to disperse. The parade - which included families with young children - was meant to finish at 1pm. The threat of arrest persuaded the majority to comply and protesters got set to march back to camp.

Police would not let the main body of the march continue until the hundred or so stragglers left at the gates of Eon joined them. Protestors were told to divide into two parties, those who would continue to protest and risk arrest and those who would follow the march.

After 30 minutes or so the procession continued on its way leaving 20 protestors sat at the EON gates with 40 onlookers. Police began moving closer. Riot police enforcements were called upon and began creating a ‘sterile’ area.

Press, protestors legal observers and any onlookers were herded behind a police line. Prison vans were driven in and police negotiators spoke to those staging the sit down protest.

A handful decided to walk away whilst a hardcore of around 20 chose to stay. One by one police pulled protestors from the gates with supporters shouting at police to treat their comrades with care. They may be back to fight another day, but for now the action was over. KA

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My experience was one of frustration, stamina, run-ins with huge police officers and not enough video tape.

After filming the lively crew of protesters leaving the camp site, I headed like an eager beaver, with the intention of hooking up with Jenni who was somewhere in a a field outside Kingsnorth power station ready to film a separate group about to jump the security fence.

Unfortunately, by the time I got to the access point in Jacobs Lane police vans and police horses had already blocked it. I then tried to access it another way but police diversions put paid to that so I dumped my car somewhere on an adjoining industrial estate far away for it not to get clamped!

With camera in one hand I frantically tried to get past the barricade of police officers. One was exceptionally mean, making fun of my ‘Mickey Mouse’ KM ID card and thought I had made it myself! I was promptly escorted off the premises.

I then had a dilemma do I stay with all the other press waiting for the main procession to come or try and see if I can meet up with Jenni in middle of that huge cabbage field.

Despite the helicopter whirling above my head I thought it was worth the effort to just try my luck. So camera in one hand, mike and cables in the other, I ran like a prison escapee across the muddy fields.My shoes were ruined.

I reached the outer fence of the power station only to hear voices on the other side of the fence. Not knowing that a contingent of riot police was just about to come down the same path we were on we bottled it and retreated. Then riot van after riot van appeared.

Realizing that I’d never find Jenni in a month of a Sundays Lee diverted me to the gates near the main entrance to cover the arrival of the protest march.

I saw them in the distance and ran like a loon to catch up with them. Filmed that and the many speeches by politicians and music and weird dancing until the clouds came in. As the rain camedown and the wind picked up one of the protesters acted the gentleman and lent me his jacket.

The initial party mood of the gate rally changed as speeches ended and police moved in end the protest. Realizing this could turn nasty, the watching media quickly followed police advice to get out of the way. SP

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Several hundred protesters began gathering on the outskirts of Kingsnorth at 10.30am. I was able to follow a small group who crossed the fields and arrived at the perimeter fence near the river.

Some made their way easily across the marshy land, while others had to strip off most of their clothes and wade through water to meet up with their comrades.

Initially I was alone, but was pleased to have Peter, one of our freelance photographers alongside as it became clear that some sort of clash was immient.

Police and security guards initially just kept a close eye on the arrivals but did little to stop the protesters when they first began to scale the 8ft perimeter fence.

The activists knocked down metal railings, used as temporary fencing, and made make-shift ramps to clamber over to huge cheers from the crowd. Banners saying No New Coal.

Once over the first fence, the activists were faced with crossing a dyke and climbing a 10ft electrified inner fence where police in riot gear stood waiting. The electricity running through the fence was turned off after demonstrators ignored warnings to stay back.

A total of 19 people succeeded in climbing over the first fence, but the other 100 or so ignored calls to cross over.

Four protesters took the brave step of climbing the second fence but were quickly arrested.

The remaining protesters on the other side of the fence soon started to disperse. It proved timely as police hailed the crowd from a helicopter overhead warned that officers with batons and dogs would be sent in if they didn’t move away.

Clashes between officers and protesters broke out minutes later.

One protester was slightly hurt in the scuffles that followed after one of the make-shift fences fell on top of him.

Police in full riot gear lined the perimeter and after a short stand-off this part of the protest was over. Therewas just the small matter of getting back to the office.

This involved crawling limbo style under barbed wire after police blocked off easy access to my car. There were black comic scenes as the caravan of photographers - or is the term a gaggle - pushed all their gear from expensive laptops to lenses followed by themselves. We must have looked ridiculous

In the short time I had been trudging through the eco-warzone mud - initially to find a better view of the rebel raft regatta - the easiest routes back had been closed. We faced a long journey back JH

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After a couple of hours of tub thumping at the gates of the so called ‘climate criminal’, the protestors decided to parade back to their camp. I decided to join them.

Lining up along Stoke Road behind a cordon of police horses and riot vans, they unfurled their banners, raised their flags and began to play some rather groovy tunes from a solar powered public address system.

After a spot of dancing it was time for the off. I mingled with the peaceful crowd and met an interesting bunch of folks, including a saxophonist, a penguin, a clown dressed in camouflage and a man shouting about the price of tea and muffins.

Unfortunately my chatting left me at the back of the march with the stragglers, who seemed to be irritating the police somewhat, and while I was grabbing some footage I seemed to incur their wrath.

After making an officer on a horse very angry for daring to claim that because I was from the press I had the right to stand by the side of the road and take some shots I was given a shove in the back by one of his colleagues and told to get on my way with my fellow protestors.

After doing a bit of demonstrating of my own I was allowed to speak to the sergeant in charge of the operation. He asked to see my press card. But apparently, despite the fact I showed him a valid reporters’ pass, had my radio recording equipment round my neck - including a KMFM microphone - and was carrying a video camera, he refused to believe I was who I claimed to be.

So I had to leave my car in the press area where, my fellow reporters from Sky News and the BBC were sipping steaming hot cups of coffee and swapping stories, to trudge all the way back to the climate camp in the rain. Luckily one of my colleagues took pity and came to pick me up. She found me sitting by Dux Court Road very dishevelled and feeling sorry for myself. My mood certainly wasn’t lightened by the number of residents passing by in their cars who gave me some very interesting hand gestures. The joys of reporting! LH