Rye: A Town Suspended in Time : A Brummie Home and Abroad

Rye: A Town Suspended in Time is the second of A Brummie Home and Abroad’s South East Road Trip Travel Diaries. To read more about our time spent in Brighton, click here!

After a coffee and bagel breakfast on Brighton seafront we pack up the car and head off to our next stop. Between Brighton and Rye are the Seven Sisters Cliffs, so we stop off for a blustery walk for views across to Beachy Head.

We’ve given an ETA to our guesthouse hosts but as we hit the outskirts of the town it’s clear we’re going to be late. Turns out that temporary traffic lights have been installed, causing traffic tailbacks. We crawl our way through at a snails pace before reaching the Lucknow Place public car park, a short distance past the guesthouse. We unload our luggage once more and retrace our steps, trying not to inhale the fumes of the stationary traffic.

Where we stayed

There were plenty of accommodation choices in Rye, but it was the excellent reviews of Aviemore Guest House which drew me into booking. Particularly regarding the breakfast. More on that later. At £100 a night it was also a lot more affordable than many of the other options. After all, I’d already blown our holiday accommodation budget on Gulliver.

We’re greeted by Tomas. Instead of being shown our room, we’re ushered into one of the breakfast rooms for an in-depth induction into Rye and the surrounding areas. Our activity and dining choices are pored over, and Tomas expresses concern over our lack of dinner reservation for the following night. We reassure him that we will be quite happy wherever we end up.

Tomas gives us a tour of the guesthouse, and then insists on bringing our luggage up to the room himself. It’s an embarrassment having all these bags for two people, for two nights. I remember the days that I became quite the expert at packing a week’s clothes in a carry-on. In contrast to our Brighton hotel, our room at Aviemore is in much more muted tones, with retro touches such as the old TV set and handmade fripperies. No migraine inducing colours here.

The weather is a distinct improvement on the previous day so we quickly change and head straight out to explore. There are steps leading through the guesthouse garden direct into town but we soon realise that it would be a mistake to attempt the steep descent after dark. Or if it rains. Or any time at all really.

Rye: A First Glimpse

And what a glimpse. After navigating the steps, we emerge on Market Street. Tomas’ directions are etched in our mind as we wind our way past half-timbered buildings and spectacular floral displays. Rye is a story-book village come to life. I half expect Rapunzel to let down her hair from Ypres Tower, or an Evil Stepmother to lurk in the graveyard of St Mary’s Church. And, if not quite Disney, Rye has it’s own tales to tell, of fires and floods, and of sailors and smugglers. Its location two miles from the sea belies the fact that this used to be a bustling port before storms deposited a vast amount of shingle which would eventually silt up the marshland, separating the town from the tide.

We meander around the town, getting our bearings. It’s a labyrinth of winding streets, with tiny alleyways barely wide enough for two people connecting main thoroughfares. Rye has resisted the invasion of the chain stores and restaurants, and proudly celebrates its independents. My kind of town. There is a charming mix of antique stores, boutiques selling unique knick-knacks, and carefully curated window displays. Mermaid Street is undoubtedly the most famous spot in town, seen on an infinite number of Instagram pics.

Late afternoon drinking spots are in short supply, with many gearing up for the evening’s Euro2020 game. Tables have been reserved hours in advance. The staff at the Cinque Ports reluctantly let us in as long as we can order and drink up in half an hour. We rise to the challenge. Luckily – and much to Tomas’ relief – we have a table booked for that evening.

Eating & Drinking at The Standard Inn

As always when planning a trip, my list of places to eat and drink is always excessive. No-one is going to visit 31 pubs, cafes and restaurants in 48 hours. Yet thanks to trawling blogs and review sites, 31 venues made the long list. But one place that kept getting recommended time after time was The Standard Inn. Located on The Mint, this 15th century pub has been lovingly restored to create a cosy but rustic inn with plenty of original features.

The menu is small but packed to the brim with locally sourced produce, from Romney Marsh lamb to Dungeness crab. Mr Fletche opted for the pie of the day; I, of course, went for the moules frites. There’s also an excellent gin selection (a bottle of the Chapel Down Pinot Noir gin has accidentally made its way into my own gin collection) and plenty of local craft ales, including a couple from Three Legs Brewing Co. The food and drink went down a treat.

At the time, tables were only available via reservation, but The Standard have now reverted to walk-ins only. There are also a small numbers of rooms available, and would be a great base right in the centre of town.

A walk to the sea – but first, breakfast

Rye is beautiful, but it’s a small town. We’ve been here less than 24 hours and we’ve walked around it nine times. So we decide to spend our full day exploring the local area, and travelling a little further afield. But first, breakfast.

Those Trip Advisor reviews weren’t wrong. The Czech influences from Tomas’ background reflect in the menu, and Jeremy cooks up a storm to bring that little slice of Eastern Europe to the table. If Michelin gave out stars for breakfast, then the Aviemore would win one hands down. Tomas pops in at least seventeen times to make sure everything is ok. When we mention we’re planning to walk to the Nature Reserve, he implores us to flag him down before we go for further directions. He sends us on our way with a 10 minute presentation on the best path to take, a flaskful of tea and a rucksack full of apples.

The walk certainly blows away the cobwebs. Even with Tomas’ map, annotated with pencil marks, we take a wrong path or two. It takes considerably longer to get to the beach than we imagined. But it’s a lovely walk, through farmland, woodland and salt marshes, past castle ruins, in the company of sheep and a few birdwatchers. When we finally climb the dunes onto Winchelsea beach we are extremely thankful for that flask of tea. After 5 miles, it’s nice to sit down and enjoy the fresh smell of the sea. And to assess my blisters/refresh my plasters. After all, its just 5 miles back.

Out and About: Hastings & Dungeness

It’s mid afternoon by the time we return to the Aviemore. I declare that my walking is done for the day. Breakfast had kept us well and truly full until now, but the first signs of a rumbly tummy are starting. We’d made a fleeting visit to Hastings on the way from Brighton, just long enough for an ice cream stop. So we decided to take the short drive back along the coast for fish and chips by the sea.

There are fish and chip emporiums aplenty. Far too much choice. So we ended up at the Beach Retreat, located right on Marine Parade. Protecting our grub from the marauding seagulls. I wish we’d spent a little more time exploring the Old Town itself – and some of the many pubs – but we had another trip in mind. We make a quick stop back the guesthouse to pick up a couple of bottles of beer and a book, before heading the other way along the coast, this time to the eerie hamlet of Dungeness.

For the uninitiated, Dungeness is a barren and hostile landscape that makes you feel like you’re on the edge of the world. An abandoned nuclear power station. Weather-beaten fisherman’s huts. And a shingle beach, sprawling as far as the eye can see. I check to see if we’ve wondered onto the film set of some post-apocalyptic masterpiece. There’s not a lot of things “to do” in Dungeness, but you could easily spend hours wandering around this fragile environment, with endlessly fascinating boat and fishing paraphernalia to check out. I let Mr Fletche wander off with his camera whilst I settle down with a book. We crack open a bottle of beer to enjoy our final sunset on the Sussex/Kent coast.

Waving bye bye to Rye

Jeremy dishes up another fine breakfast on our second morning. We’re back to self-catering in our next accommodation – granola and yoghurt just isn’t going to come up to these standards. The sun is finally shining so Tomas offers to collect our cases and store them whilst we head out for a final wander around town. I flounce around on Mermaid Street, trying – and failing – to get that perfect Instagram shot. I’ll leave that to the experts.

Our final stop is Knoops for super-duper luxurious hot chocolate. This is seriously decadent stuff. I’m going to be on a sugar high for the rest of the day.

We collect our cases from Aviemore and settle our bill. It’s time to leave the picturesque town of Rye behind and head to Kent – to Whitstable and to Gulliver.