Winter at an English beach is definitely “chill.”
© Joyce McGreevy

 Winter Wanderlust in East Sussex

Rows of wooden beach huts are locked up tight, their colors vibrant as summer memories.  Gray waves lunge at the Seven Sisters, chalk cliffs along England’s South Coast. January winds drive sand in fitful circles around deserted picnic tables.

Before beach huts were introduced in the 1900s, changing for a swim was done in a
bathing machine that, for modesty’s sake, was towed out to sea.
© Joyce McGreevy

But here we come in our oilskin jackets, woolen scarves flapping gamely in the wind. We are the winter travelers, hardy wanderers who love to travel out of season.  This year, winter wanderlust leads some of us to East Sussex.

Do the Seven Sisters cliffs look familiar? They stood in for the White Cliffs of Dover
in the movie “Atonement.”
© Joyce McGreevy

Call us daft if you want, but we don’t mind. After all, we can’t hear you through our sensible “tea-cozy” hats.

Overwintering, underpaying

There are distinct advantages to traveling in winter. Affordability for one. Some of my favorite sojourns have coincided with cold, rainy seasons. Despite the Einstein Effect on my hair, it never dampens my spirits. With steep discounts on accommodation, I happily pack an umbrella.

England’s rainy days yield green winter dividends.
© Joyce McGreevy

My holiday base is a red brick bungalow with a sweeping view of the English Channel. To the east is Seaford, whose quiet, polite atmosphere belies a tumultuous history. Centuries ago, when it wasn’t being attacked by French pirates, the town had a reputation for looting—and causing—shipwrecks. It also tended to burn down with alarming frequency.

Things eventually quieted down in once rowdy Seaford.
© Joyce McGreevy

Fortunately for crown and country, not to mention life and limb, the River Ouse silted up. This rendered Seaford worthless as a port but great at producing remarkable people.

The doctor who first diagnosed dyslexia lived in Seaford. So did three of England’s prime ministers, a NASA astronaut, a Rock and Roll Hall of Famer, the logo designer for Johnny Walker Black, and a Who’s Who of famous actors.

Exploring East Sussex

You don’t need a car to meander along England’s South Coast. Even small towns boast frequent daily rail services.

The train to Newhaven will drop off passengers for the ferry to Dieppe, France.
© Joyce McGreevy

Train stations here have been hard at work since 1840, when the railway connected England’s capital to the south coast. Soon, a steady supply of Londoners streamed—or rather, steamed into seaside resorts.

When railways arrived in Sussex, they provided an alternative to waterways.
© Joyce McGreevy

Brighton is the most famous, a bohemian boomtown that attracted Regency high society and working-class day-trippers.  It’s also set the scene for a long list of movies.

At historic Brighton Palace Pier, a winter storm comes out to play.
© Joyce McGreevy

Farther east, Hastings may look familiar to fans of the British television series “Foyle’s War,” a detective drama set during World War II.

Here in 1066, William the Conqueror won the Battle of Hastings, radically altering Britain’s history by wresting it from Scandinavian influence. As William’s Norman courtiers smuggled new French words into the Anglo-Saxon language, the resulting mix became modern English.

For a scenic shortcut in 1066 Country, make haste to Hasting’s funicular railway.
Photos by Pixabay and Pxhere

A Pocketful of Rye

Don’t overlook the smaller towns. One of the most captivating is Rye. For centuries, it prospered as a royal port—and a popular haunt of smugglers. Over time, the sea receded by two miles, and Rye became less lively, much to its benefit.

Poet Rudyard Kipling, a man of Sussex, collected local lore.
© Joyce McGreevy

Today, Rye deals chiefly in visitors, who come for the sheer pleasure of wandering its beautifully preserved streets.

Some buildings in Rye are so old that they were renovated in the 1400s.
© Joyce McGreevy

To experience Rye in January is to discover the best reason for winter travel: no crowds. You can explore the twitterns, scenic alleyways that link the labyrinthine streets, without walking a gauntlet of kidney-crushing elbows. You can linger in idyllic settings without crashing anyone’s photo opp.

The twitterns of Rye set an Anglophile traveler’s heart a-twitter.
© Joyce McGreevy

Rye is so small you can’t get lost, except in reverie. Stroll the cobbles of Mermaid Street and you may feel as if you’ve stepped into a literary novel.

You have.

In the 1920s, author and former mayor E.F. Benson used a barely disguised version of Rye as the setting of Mapp and Lucia, his popular series of humorous novels. In brief, it’s an epic battle of brilliant wits and wealthy twits. Two public television adaptations were also filmed in Rye.

Even before Benson’s tenancy, Lamb House was home to another famous novelist, Henry James. In 1898, the author was on a quest for a “charming, cheap old” refuge when he spotted a painting of the place and fell in love with it. During 19 years there he wrote many of his greatest novels.

“Old, square, red-roofed, well assured of the place it took up in the world, “
wrote Henry James of his home in Rye.
© Joyce McGreevy

Winter Pleasures

Summer in East Sussex buzzes with entertainment, like the world-famous famous Glyndebourne opera festival and Eastbourne’s Magnificent Motor Rally.

Since 1902, revelers have raced to the top of the helter skelter
—in summer, that is.
© Joyce McGreevy

But the quieter pleasures of winter have a richness all their own. Brisk walks make a virtue of visiting pubs with open fires and friendly locals. Old bookshops, eccentric museums, and ancient churches become places to linger, for true fascination cannot be rushed.

Oh, I see: The slower pace of winter can deepen one’s sense of place.

Ideal for one or two customers at a time, Rye’s Tiny Book Store accommodates countless fictional characters.
© Joyce McGreevy

And so, I settle in one rainy evening with a cup of tea and a copy of Mapp and Lucia. On the page, it’s summer in Rye, a terribly hot June morning, and the eglantine is in full flower.

Thanks to winter wanderlust, I can picture it all so clearly.

Comment on the post below, or inspire insight with your own OIC Moment here.