In my ten years as a Rye resident I’ve learned far more about motorbike owners than I care to. My early introduction to motorbikes in Rye was the unbelievably loud roar of a group of bikers leaving the town via Udimore Road late on a summer night not long after I’d moved here. Over the years I became accustomed to the echoing growl of illegally modified bikes and the sight of large groups of bikers revving their engines on the Strand, parking on the pavements, sitting on the wall like a murder of leather-clad crows, and, when the nearby toilets were closed, urinating into the undergrowth along the footpath rather than driving two minutes to the nearest open loos. If I even so much as looked directly at them, hoping, perhaps, for some sign of interest in anyone but themselves, I encountered a hostile stare, and that in a town that still astonishes me by its friendliness after spending most of my life in the suburbs.
I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve seen groups of bikers overtaking dangerously on the B2089 or the road to Camber, and every spring bank holiday seems to bring a serious accident or fatality involving a motorbike. Even after living in the far busier Chicago suburbs, where a motorbike killed a friend’s daughter and huge groups of Hell’s Angels would fill all four lanes of the highway on their way to Wisconsin, somehow they seem far more dangerous and intrusive in the English countryside.
But I’m a live-and-let-live woman on the whole, and came to accept motorbikes as a feature of the south coast in general and Rye in particular, like seagull poo on the car or cracked pavements and potholes. That changed when I attended a town council meeting last December, and learned two things. The first was that the Environment Agency (EA) owns the land at the Strand where the bikers park, and that they’d asked the council’s opinion on their wish to use that land for car parking instead (the council is firmly against the car park idea, and the EA appears to have dropped it). The second was that the number of complaints about the bikers was high enough that consideration was being given to applying for a Public Space Protection Order (PSPO) to improve the quality of life for residents and business owners around the Strand area. After a vigorous debate during which councillors expressed opinions for and against the bikers remaining at the quay, the council voted to support the EA’s plan by six votes in favour with three against and two abstentions.
After which, the seagull poo hit the fan as the biker community splattered Facebook with posts of outrage, declaring that they had been parking on the Strand for decades and inferring that they had the right to do so in perpetuity. They would “force” Rye Town Council to change their decision! The bikers brought so much money into the town! (An assertion that was challenged at the council meeting, and I must agree I’ve rarely seen anyone in motorcycle leathers on the High Street). As it turned out, the noise about “forcing” a change of heart resulted in two men speaking up at the town council meeting on 26 January to ask if the question of a PSPO could be revisited, claiming that infringements of the law should be a police matter, to which the best answer was Councillor Fiddimore pointing out that nobody should be breaking the law in the first place. At the same meeting, the Rugby Club offered space to the bikers, even promising to tarmac their drive to avoid damage to bikes. The message that the bikers are not listening to is that they are welcome, but they have outgrown their welcome in that particular location.
My contribution to the debate was repeatedly pointing out on Facebook that the council wasn’t to blame for the idea of changing the use of the Strand area, since it was owned by the Environment Agency, a point I was still trying to get across today when blame was now being thrown at incomers “trying to change Rye”. Neither the council nor any particular segment of Rye’s population is mounting a campaign against the bikers; it is the Environment Agency’s land and, having spent a stupendous amount of money on transforming its ancient infrastructure into a safe and much smarter mooring that’s apparently attracting far more boat owners, the Environment Agency is looking to make something more commercially viable out of it than a free parking space for boys with big bikes. Perhaps they are hoping to provide a more welcoming space for boat owners who, unlike the bikers, pay to be there and use the land? Whatever their motives, it’s their land and nobody else — let me repeat that, Ryers, nobody else — is actually proposing to deter the bikers from parking there.
But let’s get to the point of what’s really driven me to write this opinion piece. I was at the town council’s annual meeting last week, and a gentleman behind me got up to protest once more about the PSPO, which, as had already been announced at the meeting, had been rejected anyway by the council (Rother or ESCC? I wasn’t sure). The biker community were saints! Angels! Pussycats! They were going to do some self-policing! And they spent SO much money in the town, etc. etc. Uh-huh.
And then another gentleman directly behind me got up to ask why the Heritage Centre is allowed to continue in its premises for a peppercorn rent when the building could be earning MILLIONS for the town. He went on in that vein for a while, despite the councillors pointing out that they had explored other options and found them wanting, and that the Heritage Centre is a major tourist asset. I was tired, and it wasn’t until I got home that the penny dropped — this attempt to discredit the Heritage Centre was because its management has been publicly critical of the bikers, since they are in prime position to see anti-social behaviour happening. Pussycats? I think not. I saw a line being crossed.
So let me leave you with this thought. What would a biker-free Strand look like? Would the businesses nearby really suffer? Not only would the residents of Strand Court and other nearby housing enjoy a quieter life, I would argue that that area — where at least one commercial premises has constantly struggled to keep tenants — could become a family-friendly space that would increase business for the various nearby shops and restaurants. We could return to the days when far more use was made of that space by the town — I can remember a lot more happening there before the pandemic. Churches Together’s Good Friday service could pause there for a few prayers and hymns without being drowned out by deliberate engine revving. We could use the pedestrian crossings more safely. Boat owners could park, dog walkers could walk, and the picnic tables would be occupied by people grateful for a space to sit down that isn’t somebody’s steps or front garden (admittedly, seagull deterrent measures might be necessary). The town would have an asset, the bikers would be welcomed elsewhere, and the Environment Agency wouldn’t have to worry about bike stands damaging their tarmac.
So yes, I’m now firmly in favour of the Environment Agency’s wish to move the bikers on. I can put up with a lot, but the bikers have shown us recently who they really are, and they’ve lost my sympathy entirely.
Image Credits: Rye News Library , Tony Roi .