CINQUE PORTS

It was the Great Storm of 1287 that did it. It hit the Kent coast with such ferocity that half of Hastings Castle collapsed into the sea as the cliffs gave way, whilst piles of sediment deposited further along the coast left many ports stranded inland. I have embarked on another of my historical collections (Eleanor Crosses, Edward I’s Welsh castles) and find myself having a sandwich in Sandwich, the first of seven ports and ancient towns that are collectively known as the Cinque Ports: they are actually called the sink ports, French pronunciation having been corrupted over the centuries.

Sandwich was never by the sea, but the river Stour did provide safe passage to all manner of shipping until it silted up. Now only small craft are moored by the quayside. There is a museum in the Guildhall about the Cinque Ports but it’s closed today – there’s good planning for you. A short drive south takes me to Walmer, a suburb of Deal. Along this coast Henry VIII, fearing a French invasion, built two castles. Both are superbly symmetrical, Deal having two rings of six towers whilst Walmer has four, around a central circular keep. Walmer is the official residence of the Warden of the Cinque Ports whose previous incumbents include Churchill, the Queen Mother and W.H. Smith. 

The Cinque Ports were an alliance of five ports and two ‘Ancient towns” who supplied medieval monarchs with their fighting ships, in return for certain privileges such as being free from tolls and customs, being able to hold their own judicial courts and, best of all, to send representatives to hold the canopy over the king or queen at their coronation. My next port of call is Dover, which still retains its harbour – the only one of the Cinque Ports to do so. The original port was at the western end where I can see two huge cruise ships moored today. The vast Eastern Docks, where the cross channel ferries ply their trade is a more modern creation.

As I drive to the next ‘port’, Hythe, I am struck by how crucial this part of the country is to our national security. I pay a quick visit to the Battle of Britain Memorial and then, after crossing the Royal Military Canal in the middle of Hythe, I head to the seafront where I am aware of the sound of gunfire on the nearby MoD firing range. The Royal Military Canal was built as a defense against the 13 thousand troops Napoleon had amassed across the Channel for the invasion of Britain. By the time it was eventually built, the troops had gone and it became quite an expensive white elephant for the government of the day. 

An indication of the amount of debris deposited by the Great Storm can be seen in my 4th ‘port’, New Romney. To enter St Nicholas church, built before the storm, you need to descend a number of steps from the current ground level. The church stood close to the old harbour. Now just the flat landscape of Romney Marsh stretches out from the landlocked town to the sea a mile away.

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My second day visiting the Cinque Ports starts out on a limb. Over the centuries before the Tudors created a national navy, 42 other towns and villages joined the Cinque Port alliance, each as a ‘limb’ of one of the principal towns. Lydd was a limb of New Romney and prior to Great Storm of 1287 it was on an island. I have an ulterior motive for visiting this pleasant town: my grandfather had served as a Royal Artillery instructor here during World War I. The military camp is still in operation today, and I feel a bit nervous taking photos of it in case anyone thinks I’m a spy!

My route to Lydd takes me through Hythe again and as I pause on the coast road, there in the distance is a Martello Tower. 96 of these circular towers were built along the south and south-east coast to protect Britain from invasion during the French Revolutionary Wars, of which about half survive. I set off to walk to it, but the workshops of boat builders block my way. I’m not that disappointed - it was a long way off. Anyway, as I continue onwards, I come across more; one is abandoned, another has been converted into a house.

My next destination is Rye, not one of the original ports but an ‘ancient town’ as it was called when it joined the federation. The town is high on a promontory and filled with art galleries, bespoke clothes shops and artisan food outlets. Henry James, the author, lived there, as did a number of artists including John Ryan who illustrated the Captain Pugwash cartoons: aha me hearties. The Great Storm turned Rye from a town on the coast to one on a river, so the good citizens built a new harbour on the river and then watched as it silted up and became navigable only to small boats.

Neighbouring Winchelsea fared even worse. The 13th century brought damaging storms and French raiders in equal measure and at regular intervals. When huge chunks of the town had been washed away, they decided to relocate. New Winchelsea was constructed using a grid system of roads, on higher ground. The old town disappeared beneath the waves hundreds of years ago so all I can do is stand on the shoreline, look towards Camber Sands, and imagine the bustling medieval harbour.

And so to port numero cinq: Hastings. As I approach the coast, a sign proclaims that I am in the old town. However, my guide book tells me that the old harbour was further west, in the lee of the White Rock. The area is still called White Rock, although where once were moored fighting ships, ready to defend the land, there is now crazy golf and a boating lake. Henry VIII brought about the end of the Cinque Port’s strategic importance as he assembled a fleet of ships that formed the basis of today’s Royal Navy. It’s been an interesting journey. I’ve found some fascinating places although my quest to locate the original harbours has ended in failure. But there’s a reason for that: it was the Great Storm that did it!