Day 12: Rye to Fairlight Cove

The Rye to Hastings section requires planning to avoid using public transport, splitting the hike into two loops that intersect at Fairlight Cove — this week from Rye and next week from Hastings. I plan to follow the shoreline to Fairlight Cove, find a path up to the cliff and return inland along the Saxon Shore Way.

On leaving the industrial outskirts of Rye, I reach an overcast and windswept Rye Harbour Nature Reserve. The light rain is making photos difficult, so I slide back a stubborn door and enter Gooders Hide. It’s pitch black and I quietly open a shutter, although the birds on the saltmarsh pools are too far away to see clearly. A flock of birds swirl around, black images against the grey sky, and I immediately think “Crebain”, which geekily reflects our Christmas family re-watching of the Lord of the Rings trilogy.

The Eastern pier of the harbour is a little more visible this week.

There’s a long stretch of my favourite shingle. The rain picks up and I walk, head down, into the wind. The Mary Stanford lifeboat house offers a little shelter and, once more, it is the unexpected discovery of art that makes me smile.

A wooden framed comic panel. It’s part of a series, Not Everyone Rises, based on real events, by the artist Julian Hanshaw. I found two panels earlier next to the harbour entrance but it is this one that moves me. It depicts a lifeboat called out in treacherous seas in 1926 to save a vessel that subsequently cancels the distress call. The lifeboat crew do not see the recall flare and all 17 men perish, almost the entire male fishing population of Rye Harbour.

After a pleasant walk along Winchelsea Beach, I reach the imposing and aptly named Cliff End. A red sign tells me to check the tide times as the next exit from the beach is three miles away and the high tide hits the cliffs. A blog mentioned a closer path up the cliffs and high tide is 4 pm, so I’ve plenty of time to explore.

The sandstone and clay cliffs are alive with sound. Water cascades down and my head turns to each sound of tumbling soil and earth. The clifftop reveals the overhanging foundation of a long abandoned house. Other homes seem perilously close and fighting a losing battle. I move a little closer to the sea.

Shingle turns to rocks and boulders, slowing my progress. Each headland encourages me forward with the promise of a hidden path beyond, but to no avail. It’s midday, the cut-off point to leave me enough time to get back to the car before dark. I also have the tide to consider. Reluctantly, I turn back and re-trace my steps. The beach wins.

On the way back, I scramble up a steep track marked with a Private – Keep Out! sign, thinking it might be a way off the shore, but it becomes a sucking mass of clay slurry which sends me skidding back down the slope. I finally make it to the top, only to be met by barbed wire. I might as well enjoy the view before sliding back down the hill, my boots twice as heavy with a new fashionable coat of clay.

The Royal Military Canal provides a path back to Rye, although the track is soggy and muddy.

Despite the gloom, the setting sun creates a warm light.

I make it back to the car just as the light fades. I’ve covered a lot of ground for relatively small progress along the coast but it is truly about the journey, not the destination. I may be walking twice my originally planned coastal distance for some time.

Walk distance: 15 miles.

Total distance: 187 miles.