retiredmartin

October 2026. Rye. East Sussex.

We’d been down in Rye a whole fortnight (bar the bi-weekly trips to attend to elderly parents), so about time we left the harbour,

and actually visited the town, I guess.

You’d think we’d have visited all the pubs, cafes, museums and twee shops in Rye already (I even bought my suit for the Telegraph interview in a tailor here).

But a close look at the CAMRA website’s pub map suggests otherwise, with exciting new activity down by the River Brede, in the shadow of the castle.

There’s an hourly bus from the caravan park towards Rye station, and from there you can walk the bounds in 20 minutes.

Head just outside the walls towards the Rother, where the fishmonger has recently set up a seafood bar where the smart young folk of Rye head at weekends.

That gets it an Untappd entry, with Krombacher the beer of choice to wash down the grilled lobster.

Swap that keg Hepcat with cask Gadds and get it in the GBG.

The Fishmarket marks the start of Rock Channel, an informal little lane between the A259 and the river that we’d never noticed before.

Quite a contrast between Ferry Cottage and our new Rye pub, Garage Culture‘s brewery tap.

But inside that shed it’s lively and pubby beyond the breeze block,

and a single hand pump ensures it gets the tick from the visiting Bexley Beer Festival Volunteers, all of whom are cheery and chatty.

When Bexley leaves we chat to a couple of lively octagenarians who travel down from Crystal Palace to their Rye Bay park each weekend, and suddenly the Garage seems a cultural melting pot.

Mrs RM, whose crafty hazy pale edges my cask mild, gives the brewer the Spanish Inquistion about his career (excellent CV) and I suspect we’ll be popping back here regularly over winter.

Though perhaps not for the Gherkin Pilsner.