The guide
Rye
East Sussex, England
Mermaid Street — cobbles, crooked timber frames and the Mermaid Inn sign.
Getting there
London St Pancras → Ashford International on the high-speed line (about 38 minutes), then change for the Marshlink to Rye (about 22 minutes) — roughly 1h 06m to 1h 10m all-in, with the Marshlink running about hourly on weekends.
Famous for
A medieval hill town that the sea forgot — Rye was once an island port, and it still feels marooned in the best way. Cobbled Mermaid Street climbs past smugglers’ inns to St Mary’s church, the harbour marshes spread out below, and Camber’s vast sands are ten minutes away. Writers, painters and ghosts all moved here and stayed.
Where to eat
- Marino’s — the traditional chippy on The Mint — a Rye institution; fish cooked fresh to order.
- The Apothecary — bohemian High Street café with curved windows — generous paninis and hard-to-resist cakes.
- The Union Rye — modern British small plates; the town’s current dinner darling.
- The Globe Inn Marsh — the locals’ favourite pub, out by the Royal Military Canal — local field, farm and sea on the menu.
What to do
Oystercatchers on the shingle at Rye Harbour Nature Reserve.
- Mermaid Street — the famous cobbled climb — go early before the day-trippers.
- Ypres Tower & Rye Castle Museum — medieval tower with smuggling tales and town history.
- St Mary’s Church — climb the tower for the great view over the rooftops to the marshes.
- Rye Harbour Nature Reserve — 4,355 recorded species, five birdwatching hides, and the Discovery Centre’s Lime Kiln Café.
- Camber Sands — miles of vast sandy beach, ten minutes away — bring a windproof jacket.
- Lamb House — the National Trust writers’ house — Henry James and E.F. Benson both lived here.
- The High Street — antique shops, bookshops and galleries in crooked old buildings.
Jess's favourite Rye Harbour Nature Reserve, two miles south of town
open all day, every day, free. Oystercatchers pipe on the shingle, little egrets stalk the saltmarsh, and the five wheelchair-friendly hides are perfect for quiet watching. The Discovery Centre’s Lime Kiln Café does the cake afterwards.
Good to know: Rye is a hill town on cobbles — wear proper shoes. The nature reserve is a 40-minute walk or a short taxi ride from the station; Camber Sands pairs perfectly with a Rye day but check the tide. Weekends are busy — arrive before 11 for the quiet streets.
Jess plans her trips the week before, but trains have a mind of their own. Routes, times and fares in these guides were checked at the time of writing — engineering works, timetable changes and last-minute alterations can still happen. Please check your journey before you travel (National Rail Enquiries or the Trainline app) — and if a replacement bus sneaks in, we hope the day makes up for it.
Read Jess's diary of the day ↓
Jess's Day Off · Diary No. 24
Rye: Cobbles, Smugglers, and Oystercatchers
Rye, East Sussex
I woke up at 5:45am. Old habits. The meerkats were standing to attention in my head, and I promised them I’d bring back a story worth their breakfast.
The journey
St Pancras to Ashford on the high-speed — thirty-eight minutes, the countryside doing its green blur — then the little Marshlink train trundling through the marshes to Rye. I had my flask of tea, a cheese sandwich, and a notebook with Barnaby’s latest dictation (a badger, a lantern, a secret — I’ll tell you when it’s finished). The plan said only “hill town, see what happens.”
The arrival
Rye station, and there it is: the whole town stacked on its hill like a wedding cake made of brick and tile. No lion roars, no parrot opinions — just gulls, and church bells, and the smell of the sea that isn’t quite there anymore. The walk up into town is all cobbles and crooked doorways, and every other house looks like it’s leaning in to tell you something.
The walk
Mermaid Street first, obviously — the famous cobbled climb, the Mermaid Inn with its smugglers’ ghosts. I took one wrong turn — my mandatory one — and ended up at St Mary’s church instead of the castle, so I climbed the tower instead. The rule of day trips held: the wrong turn was the right one. From the top you can see the whole story — the rooftops, the marshes where the sea used to be, and the harbour glinting two miles off.
Then down to Rye Harbour Nature Reserve, because a zookeeper can smell a wetland from two miles away. Five hides, all wheelchair-friendly, and the oystercatchers were performing on the shingle — black and white, orange beaks like traffic cones, piping at each other about absolutely nothing. A little egret stalked the saltmarsh like it was late for an appointment. I sat in a hide for forty minutes and forgot to check my phone once, which for me is practically meditation.
The café
The Lime Kiln Café at the Discovery Centre — hot chocolate with a view across the reserve, and a slice of something with lemon in it that I’m still thinking about.
Lunch
Marino’s on The Mint — the Rye institution. Fish and chips, crisp outside and fluffy inside, eaten in the little courtyard while the gulls conducted negotiations overhead.
Home
The Marshlink back through the golden marshes, then the high-speed home. Tired, windswept, notebook smelling faintly of chips and salt air. Happy.
Story seed
The oystercatchers did it. All that piping and strutting on the shingle with beaks like orange pencils, making a tremendous fuss about nothing at all. I’m writing a scene where Pinafor meets a bird who shouts about everything and learns — gently, from Clarence — that the loudest voice in the wood isn’t always the one worth following. Barnaby says there’s a whole chapter in a beak. He’s probably right.
Barnaby's text“Forty minutes in a hide without touching your phone — that’s fieldwork, Jess, the real kind. The oystercatchers chose to carry on their business right in front of you, and that’s trust earned the slow way. You’re becoming the keeper the animals gossip about — in the good way.”
— Jess
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