OFFICIALS have been telling us for months that the Severn Sands, an abandoned dredger near the Fremington Quay tourist spot, was an eyesore and an ecological disaster waiting to happen.

Local taxpayers are now in line to foot much of the £56,000 bill, at least in the short term, to remove the 49-year-old boat, while the authorities pursue the boat's owner. The Journal thought you should see what you will be paying for.

I arrived on the shoreline at low tide, 5pm on Monday. Local man David Harris had agreed to help me on board. I guessed he had been joking about the "rope ladder". He arrived with an old wooden ladder instead.

Ankle-deep in my boots in sticky black mud, I looked up at the towering metal bulk of the doomed boat, and then looked at David's ladder; it didn't look long enough.

Journal photographer Jo Tibbles and digital editor Catherine Jones arrived and started laughing nervously when they realised what was in store: after the cloying mud, an old wooden ladder which fell two feet short of the rusting deck, and only David's strong arms to pull them aboard.

Five slightly frightening minutes later we were all aboard. I do not recommend you try this.

We'd already been told the Severn Sands contained asbestos, tyres, paint and other unidentified dangers but I was shocked by the devastation on board.

Few metal surfaces were not severely ravaged by rust. Metal steps creaked under weight. No corner of the 47-metre boat seemed unwrecked by human hands or saltwater and rain.

The hold, once used to carry sand, was almost entirely filled with old tyres, which locals said were dumped on the boat after it was moored in Fremington. There were a few tins of paint and bits of wood and other junk.

Picking my way through the broken glass and rotting deck, I took a slow, weird, tour of a once-proud vessel. Vandals had done their worst; almost nothing was left unsmashed.

The dining room was covered in paint. The bridge was torn apart. The living quarters looked like small junkie squats.

The bridge of the Severn Sands

I saw graffiti and binbags of rubbish. Beautifully-crafted wooden doors, tables and cabinets — all as heavy as marble — had been removed and thrown around. The windows were smashed, the electrics ripped to bits.

The Severn Sands galley

David told me that looters had long since carried off valuable bits of the boat and that teenagers still regularly visited.

Near the engine room we found what we guessed were asbestos-lagged pipes wrapped in plastic. The engine, or what we could see of its huge workings amid the gloom, looked, incredibly, well-oiled.

On the top deck, where some of the safety railings were gone, I looked down at the mud; it was a long way down.

I had been thinking with some dread about lowering myself off the deck of the jagged ghost ship onto the wooden ladder. Just as we were about to make our way down, we spotted two university students with an extendable aluminum ladder, which they let us borrow. An extraordinary bit of luck, we all agreed.

Back on shore, I looked up at the Severn Sands, a decaying monster waiting to be put out of its misery.

Above: See a video tour of the Severn Sands.

For more pictures of the Severn Sands dredger at Fremington click here