Rye - re-visited part 1.

Well, here we are, exactly a week later, looking at last Thursday’s trip to Rye. The train dropped me at the station, shortly before midday for what was the first time I had arrived in the town by rail since who knows when. It was also my first visit to Rye since the one I made with Retired Martin, back in February 2019.

I know the town well, having made umpteen visits over the past four and a half decades, but most importantly, I know where all the good pubs are. After exiting the station, I made my way along Cinque Ports Street – the thoroughfare at the bottom of the hill which is overlooked by the Old Town. I stopped, on the way, to take a few photos of the Waterworks micro-pub, although given its 2:00 PM opening time, I wouldn’t be able to pay it a visit until later.

Continuing on my way, I turned up the hill through the historic Land Gate and into the bustling High Street. Rye was teeming with visitors and townspeople alike, with many dressed accordingly in keeping with the upmarket feel that seems ingrained into the local DNA. My original plan had been to make the Ypres Castle my first point of call, and then continue back down to the Waterworks, but given the 2:00 PM opening time, there was a lot more time available than I first realised.

I therefore decided a visit to the historic Mermaid Inn would also be in order. I’ve mentioned this before, but this ancient 15^th Century inn is where Mrs PBT’s and I spent part of our honeymoon, nearly 40 years ago. I was also inspired to re- visit the Mermaid, following a recent blog article from Retired Martin, in which he praised both the bar at the rear of the building, as well as the quality of the beer.

I was mulling these plans over, as I walked along the High Street, and it was then that I noticed the George. With parts dating back to the 16^th Century, this former coaching inn, is now Rye’s premier hotel, and calls itself "The George in Rye." Following a serious fire, the premises reopened in May 2022, having undergone a tasteful and thorough renovation – both inside and out. The hotel has retained many of its original features, including the old oak beams and the original fireplace

It has always acted as a focal point and meeting place for the town and its publicity material boasts of having entertained three King Georges, one Duke of Wellington and one Mayor of London (wonder which one?). In 1778 the first coaching service ran between Rye and London, with the journey to taking 16 hours, each way. The George is a place I'd always wanted to visit but despite umpteen trips to Rye, I'd never manage to do so. This then was to be my chance. I hadn't bothered checking on WhatPub, but after spotting the drinks menu displayed outside, I noticed that Harvey's, Long Man, and Romney Marsh beers were available.

I walked in through the porticoed main entrance that overlooks the High Street and having established the bar was at the rear of the building, walked past reception, up some steps and entered the bar. There were quite a few people seated enjoying drinks, but fortunately there was space at one of their larger tables. I ordered myself a swift half of Romney Marsh Amber and sat down at table nearest the bar. I’m not overly familiar with Romney Marsh Brewery, although their beers seem increasingly common in this tucked-away corner of south-east England.

The clientele appeared mainly middle-aged, although there were a few younger people. Dogs seemed an essential accessory, as did stylish, but expensive outdoor clothing.  One such group arrived, which look like an older mother and father, with a younger couple obviously related to the latter. I beckoned them to take a seat, as there was plenty of room, and they gratefully accepted. I had a brief chat about pubs and beer with the elder of the two men, and he recommended I try a pub called This Ancient Boro’, in Tenterden, as it features gravity-dispensed beer.

I promised to remember the place when I was next in Tenterden. It was time to move on, so I headed up towards Rye’s imposing church, through the graveyard, and then down towards the imposing Ypres Tower, which overlooks the flat marshlands, reclaimed from the sea, below.  Here, just down a series of steep steps, leading off from the tower ramparts, is the Ypres Castle, an attractive weather-boarded pub, which seems to cling to the side of the hill.

Inside, there is one large bar with an open fire, and an adjoining room behind the serving area. I know the Ypres Castle well, following many visits to Rye, over the years, and it has everything you would expect from such a venerable old inn. I’ve always regarded it as a special sort of pub, given its tucked away location, so four years ago, I was delighted to learn that the Ypres Castle had been bought by Jeffrey Bell, a lawyer and blogger, turned pub landlord. Jeff established a legendary reputation for running a good pub, during his tenure of the Gunmaker’s in London’s Clerkenwell area, and he has continued this at the Ypres Castle.

By the time I arrived, the pub was already quite full, although after buying a pint of Thornbridge Brother Rabbit, I managed to find space at the end of one of the large wooden tables.  Despite its 4% abv, I thought this beer from the Thornbridge stable, was on the thin side. Fine for a summer’s day, but not ideal for a chilly day at the tail end of December. In fact, looking out of the window opposite, behind a table occupied by a group of dedicated walkers, I could see the sky, visibly darkening. Several of these ramblers had been champing at the bit and were keen to commence their hike. Off they went, but only after courteously returning their glasses to the bar.

They shouted to their companions, who were still finishing their drinks, that they would wait for them at a particular spot, but they hadn’t long departed before the sky darkened further, and the heavens opened. This was despite there being no rain in the forecast, a fact pointed out by a member of the now returned “advanced party” of ramblers, as they scurried back inside the pub, their tails between their legs.

More drinks were called for, but not for me, as I had an historic old inn, plus a micro-pub to visit. I drank up and left, but not before I heard the bar staff confirming that Jeffrey wouldn’t be coming down from London, for a while, because of the looming rail strikes. There was probably another reason for the landlord’s absence, as I noticed on the pub’s website today, that the Ypres is currently closed until 27^th January, for it’s annual, post-Christmas break. In the meantime, I had two more watering holes to visit, and you can read about them, in the next post.