We now come to the second day of my South Coast mini-break,
and despite the late-night road works going on close to the Chichester Inn (installing
a Dutch-style roundabout) I had a reasonable night’s sleep. I awoke at around
7am, feeling refreshed and raring to go. The outlook from my room, across a grey
and rather dreary looking Chichester, was perhaps to be expected for
mid-February, but the greyness was tempered by me looking forward to travelling
across to Portsmouth later that morning.
There wasn’t a huge rush to get up because Stafford Paul and
I weren’t due to meetup with Dave and Joan until 11am. Before doing anything
else, I made myself a cup of tea, something I do every morning, regardless of
where I am in the world. After a quick shower, I packed up my trusty, small red
rucksack – the one that has been my faithful companion on various hikes across
southern England. I’d certainly travelled light this time around, taking
inspiration, from Christine Taylor’s excellent, One Small Bag website. I then headed down to the bar ready for a full English
breakfast, which I knew would set me up for a walk around Portsmouth and fortify
me against the chilly February weather.
Paul
was already there, and getting tucked into his breakfast. He was looking
pleased because the landlord had furnished him with a nice large pot of coffee.
After checking my breakfast drink requirements, mine host brought me an equally
large, and most welcome pot of tea. As is common in many B&B
establishments, breakfast was cooked to order, and when it arrived the plate
was nice and hot, which is always a good sign! What really made it special, was
the quality of the ingredients, a point I emphasise when out to breakfast with
son Matthew.
Quality comes across in the taste of the ingredients, especially
the bacon and the sausages – something you just don’t get with cheap, mass-catering
packs from the Cash & Carry. Mrs PBT’s agrees with me on this one, in fact she is the one responsible in our house, for the maxim, “you get what you pay for”, and if we could instill
this one point into our son and heir, it will be an important life lesson learned. (Cost considerations, of course, play a part here, but if finances allow, it is usually worth splashing out a little bit extra, especially where quality is concerned!). Whether young master Matt takes this on board, remains to be seen, but if he does, then maybe he will thank us one day.
Moving swiftly on, Paul and I enjoyed a
leisurely, and very satisfying top-notch breakfast, which was spun out by the plentiful supply of tea and
coffee we’d be provided with. There was just the two of us left in the bar by the time we’d finished, and
we spent the time chatting partly about pubs, but mainly about the Campaign for Real Ale. We touched on memorable events associated with
the campaign, both past as well as present, including various AGM’s we’d attended, (Paul is way ahead of me there), and some
of the much-missed characters who seemed to come and go. CAMRA certainly
attracted plenty of them and I think we both surprised each other bringing up
name after name, as well as the foibles associated with many of these people,
and how they helped shape the campaign, particularly in the early years.
Once the drinks were finished and the conversation had slowed
down, it was time to make a move. I collected my rucksack from the room, ready to
check out, but Paul was due to stay another night at the Chichester Inn and
would be travelling back to Stafford the following morning. I believe he was
planning to stop off in London on the way, where he had a number of carefully
selected “heritage pubs” to visit.
After handing back my room key, and thanking the landlord for
a most pleasant stay, I headed off into town, with Paul, towards the station. We
hadn’t gone far before bumping into Dave, who was heading towards us. He was
alone, as Joan had decided to enjoy a quiet day back at their Airbnb, so the
three of us continued on to the station. A little grumble here regarding the new
style tickets recently introduced on Southern Trains, which sees thin, flimsy
paper replacing the card ones, that have been in universal use across the rail
network for decades. Promoted as “kinder on the environment”, but rather too easy
to lose, or mislay, as Dave discovered, although fortunately he found his ticket, in the end.
The train journey of just over half an hour, took us through
the relatively flat coastal area of West Sussex, and into Hampshire. As a bonus
the sun was peeping out from behind the clouds, which was the first time I’d
seen it for several weeks. There was still a cold wind blowing, as we
discovered when we alighted from the train at Portsmouth Harbour, but spirits
were running high, and we were looking forward to getting to sampling a few of Portsmouth’s
finest public houses. I’d been lazy again and had left the planning of the trip
to Paul and Dave, and they came up with a good selection. The plan was to work
our way from the harbour station and then make our way back slowly towards Portsmouth
& Southsea – the other main rail station in the city. On the way we would
be calling in at the pubs selected by the two pub men.
As mentioned in the previous post, I’d been to Portsmouth once
before, but that was almost 60 years previously. Consequently, there was
nothing of the city that I recognised, and that includes the iconic harbour –
spiritual home of the Royal Navy. As we exited the harbour station, we could
see the sea with the recently restored, Victorian warship, HMS Warrior taking pride of
place. Launched in 1860, HMS Warrior was the world’s first iron-hulled warship,
and was larger, faster, and more heavily armoured than any ship before her. Her
impressive size and firepower made her a symbol of British naval supremacy. We
couldn’t see Portsmouth’s most famous preserved ship, HMS Victory because that
is berthed in a dry dock, on the other side of the National Museum of the Royal
Navy. The Victory is undergoing an extensive renovation so we wouldn’t
have been able to have visited it, anyway. Nelson’s flagship is probably the
only thing that I do remember from that 1969 visit.
As far as pubs were concerned, we were aiming for a Fuller’s
pub situated at Camber Dock, on the opposite quayside to the Isle of Wight car
ferry terminal. It took a bit of finding, and we had to double back on
ourselves at one point, but the Bridge Tavern was well worth the effort. The
pub overlooks the water, and there were several boats moored up next to the quayside.
Some were so close that, if you wanted, you could literally jump on board. Dave
found this area particularly interesting given his experiences, several decades
ago, of working on a lobster fishing boat, operating out a Maine port –
possibly Portland.
We were not disappointed with the Bridge Tavern, where the nautical
theme extended into the pub’s interior. There was an impressive bar counter, set
towards rear of the building and a number of alcoves leading off either side. We
sat, close to the window, in one of these, from where we had an excellent view
of the nautical scene outside stop. I opted for a pint of Gale’s Seafarers, a
beer we don’t often see in Kent, but HSB was also available, alongside the
ubiquitous London Pride – and before RM asks the question, I have no idea as to
whether the Pride was “drinking well.”
We had an interesting chat, which included quizzing Dave
about his time spent lobster fishing, before deciding to move on to the next
pub. This was supposed to be the Sally Port Inn, a famous Portsmouth pub created
in 1947 from a war damaged residence, dating back to the 1600’s. Situated just
a few yards from the seawall, in the midst of Old Portsmouth’s High Street, the
pub takes its name from the gate in the fortified section of the seawall, which
is known as the “sally port”. There was some uncertainty regarding the pub’s
opening times, but a visit to the Sally Port confirmed this was 3pm, as listed
in What Pub.
This was a shame, as from the outside, at least, the pub looked
well worth visiting, but for those interested in the cold war, tales of
espionage and the charismatic naval diver, Commander Buster Crabb RN, there’s a
fascinating piece about Cdr. Crabb, who disappeared after embarking on a secret mission to investigate a Soviet warship, as part of a unauthorised spying exercise. Crabb had spent the night, prior to his disappearance, at the
Sally Port. So, it was best foot forward and off to the next pub.
Our
route took us down to the water’s edge, just below the sea defences of
Portsmouth City Wall, and whilst I didn’t think to take a photo, right by the
seawall, and adjacent to the Falklands Campaign Memorial, here was a small portal
in the stonework, which led onto a paved walkway, overlooking the sea. Could this
have been the Sally Port? (Yes, it was!) The sea looked rather choppy, and undoubtedly very cold,
but there were a couple of hardy souls sea fishing off the break water. This was
a hobby I dabbled in during my youth, and whilst never really catching much, it
was an activity I enjoyed during my early teenage years, and it is one Matthew
and I have had several attempts at, in more recent times. You have to get used to being cold. Not just
cold, but bl**dy cold!!
Well with four more pubs to write about, it make sense to
draw the narrative to a close here, and continue next time, as I describe the remaining
quartet of Portsmouth pubs, each with their own charm and unique character.
