Only a few weeks after our long ramble on the shingle beach alongside the Lydd ranges I return with an unenthusiastic teenager to complete the stretch from Camber sands to Rye. As the sun was shining and my 40 year old VW beetle, Dougal, hadn’t ‘stretched his legs’ so to speak for many months we took him to Rye Railway Station and caught the bus to Camber.

As we wandered along Camber Sands beach the sun was full of promise bringing out many ladies and gentlemen from their winter hibernation. Tourist beaches have such a different sense of place in the winter compared to the lazy days of sun-bathing, paddling and beach games.

The beach soon comes to an abrupt at the mouth of the River Rother and we reluctantly turn away from the sea and follow the path along the sand dunes towards Rye. Across the river we can see the cute little black fisherman’s house with the distinctive red roof at Rye Harbour. The pathway becomes somewhat misleading between the Rye Harbour offices and the golf course but we eventually find a seasonally muddy path which leads us to the picturesque hilltop village of Rye.

We found a delightful little tea room called Edith’s House in Rye where we enjoyed soup and a warm cup of hot chocolate before venturing back home in Dougal.