| The
Hotel is made up of adjoining Georgian Grade 2 listed
townhouses that date back to 1799. They occupy the
prime position in Ramsgate's best known historic
garden crescent. Many of the bedrooms boast magnificent
views over the 'Royal Harbour', the yacht marina
and the English Channel. Some even have their own
private south facing balcony!
We
are ideally located within easy reach of the railway
station, the' Blue Flag' award winning beach, the
seafront, the yacht marina, the ferry terminal,
Kent International Airport Manston, local pubs and
restaurants as well as a diverse selection of local
shops in the town centre.
There
are many excellent golf courses within the vicinity.
There is ample on street parking as well as a very
small private off street car park. Please ask for
a space.
We
offer extremely good value for money, so whether
you are here on business or just down for a few
days of refreshing sea air, then do try us. We're
far nicer than a Travelodge!
Our
email is: info@royalharbourhotel.co.uk
It’s
That Kind Of Place
by Terrie Petree
When you
sleep at the Royal Harbour Hotel, you’ll dream
of kissing old lovers and being dressed up like
the Queen. It’s that kind of place. The hotel,
built
in 1799, sits on Nelson Crescent , a half
moon of centuries old town homes and small hotels
that faces the royal Ramsgate
harbour. In addition to its postcard view
of the harbor and the channel beyond, the hotel
looks out at a stretch of the English coast where
Charles Dickens, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, and Vincent
Van Gogh, to name only those who were within walking
distance, lived and worked. The history of Ramsgate
and the harbor is enough to make you wish that the
hotel were haunted. I can tell you from experience
that it isn’t. I spent one week at the Royal
Harbour Hotel as its unofficial writer in residence.
I didn’t see any ghosts during my stay, but
I saw enough exotic people, full moons, passenger
laden ferries, monstrous clouds, ancient passageways,
and glasses of fresh squeezed orange juice to fuel
my imagination for months to come. |
|
 |
| On
my first real day at the Royal
Harbour Hotel, I was too tormented by the
dizzying and heavy exhaustion of jetlag to really
absorb my surroundings. Instead, I dragged myself
away from the soft couch, the fireplace, and the
large, gripping painting of British officers fighting
Zulu warriors and sequestered myself in my sea view
room. Upstairs on the second floor, I slept solidly
for several hours and then awakened to the sound
of a loud, rough evening wind rattling the window.
Across the street from me, a large, white isosceles
triangle-shaped sail had been ripped right in half
by the wind, and a doll-sized sailor shimmied up
the mast to reel in the pieces. I decided not to
leave the room until the next morning. While I was
still awake, I watched the view outside the window
like it was a television and I was an invalid unable
to get out of bed. Before long, I developed three
games: guess the nationalities of the people walking
along the boardwalk, guess the destinations of the
boats, and guess how many people were staring out
their windows on the coast of France and looking
across the sea at me.
Throughout
the next few days, I accumulated a series of clues
that made my three games easier, and at the same
time, harder to play. The nationalities of the people
who stay in and around the Royal
Harbour Hotel are so varied that it takes
a real eye for cultures and genes to accurately
pick out the locals from the guests and the Euro’s
from the not’s. They are Portuguese immigrants,
European youths who study at the English language
school, British families on holiday, and day travelers
who come over on the ferries from Oostende , Belgium
and Calais , France . The massive and luxurious
ferries come in and out through the harbour all
day and all night. Beside them sail the private
yachts, clippers and catamarans that come from all
over the UK , and probably the maritime world, to
dock at Ramsgate. Among all those tourists, travelers,
and sailors there must be some who once sat in a
room in Calais or some other French coastal city
and looked out at Ramsgate.
But, the key to winning the last game is knowing
that it all depends on the weather. On overcast
days, you can’t see any of France.
The rooms at the Royal
Harbour are decorated with original
artwork and designed to make you feel cozy
and far away. But playing window games is not the
way to experience the hotel or the coast. Before
stepping out to enjoy the pleasures of Ramsgate,
ask James Thomas the hotel’s owner, concierge,
decorator and sometimes breakfast chef to show you
his collection of paintings and sketches that cover
the walls of the hotel. Enjoy the cardboard Van
Gogh, the portrait of Queen Elizabeth and that intoxicating
painting of the British soldiers battling the Zulus.
Let James tell you that your feet are walking on
the hotel’s original wood floors. Take a peek
at the purple bath tub. And, if you’re adventurous,
ask James about the sketches on the wall in the
breakfast kitchen. Then, step out onto Nelson Crescent
and into your choice of ways to wile away your days.
Ramsgate is a port
city, so it’s only fitting that the Royal
Harbour will become your portal into the
heart and history of England . Once the tide goes
down, walk along the white-rocked beach to Broadstairs
and visit Bleak House, the home where Charles Dickens
lived and worked. Although drearily named, the house
and the walk are bright and entertaining. If walking
is your preferred mode of transportation, see Kent
Nature Walks, Walks in Historic Kent, or Waterside
Walks in Kent for detailed maps and brief histories
of the area. On Saturdays, you can walk just a few
blocks to the corner of King and High Streets and
shop at the stalls that line the way. Most of the
goods are fairly urbane rural fare: brass light
fixtures, t-shirts and fresh fruit, but there is
also an Indian leather goods shop where they sell
very attractive slippers.
If
you’re shopping inclined or eager to explore
beyond the limits that your feet will comfortably
carry you, the boats and trains will take you on
several pleasurable day trips. Leaving the Ramsgate
station, you can be in London in about an hour and
a half. The train ride itself is a nice, easy journey.
The scenery changes from beachscapes and rows of
tiny ocean-facing cottages to villages boasting
tall cathedrals and antique bookstores to the big,
metallic and impressive face of industrial London
. Or, ferry across the channel. In an hour you can
be in Calais and in four you can be in Oostende
. Although they are surprisingly close, both ports
pass my foreign city litmus test: if I were drugged,
blindfolded, kidnapped, and then abandoned in the
middle of one of these towns would I know that I
was in a foreign country just by looking at the
houses and building? Yes. Both are unique, both
are decidedly un-British, and both are a refreshingly
far cry from the vistas my American eyes are accustomed
to.
Being a jetsetter is tiring. When you’ve exhausted
your store of holiday energy, relax on the sofas
in the Royal Harbour
’s sitting room. Play the maddening marble
game on the coffee table. Drink something from the
honesty bar. Don’t forget to watch the sea.
It changes color at least five times a day and sometimes
it is more than five different colors at once. Stripes
and patches of water go from teal to slate and from
silver to midnight blue. Seagulls are bothersome
birds, but when you watch them soar white-winged
against the blue and white sky and over the multi-colored
sea your mind will change. From the windows in the
sitting room, you will wish that you too could “slip
the surly bonds of earth” and fly between
the sky and the sea. Instead of flying, you’ll
go to bed and dream of kissing old lovers or being
dressed up like the queen. It’s that kind
of place.
BBC
Worldwide Limited, The Nation’s Favorite Poems,
Martin’s the Printer’s Ltd, Berwick-upon-Tweed;
2003.
Cowan, Bea, Walks in Historic Kent , Countryside
Books, Newbury; 2000.
Easterbrook, Michael , Kent Nature Walks , Countryside
Books, Newbury; 2003.
Jenner, Lorna,
Waterside Walks in Kent , Countryside Books, Newbury;
2002 |
