One Aussie, Two Vans: My Love Letter To Britain's Beaches
***Author's note: I really didn't intend for this to be so long, but I got completely carried away as I started to remember all the funny little things that happened on this trip. In some ways this is the journal I never wrote, so I hope you enjoy it.
Ok it's not an actual love letter—even on Valentine's Day that would be a bit on the nose. I am Australian though and there were two separate vans involved in my road trip up the UK's west coast last April, as I went in search of the best beaches in Britain.
This was a trip I undertook 100% solo in the midst of some reasonably chaotic personal circumstances which, if I'm being honest, have added to my (already considerable) willingness to romanticise the whole thing. Who can blame me though! The stretch of coastline I covered—from the idyllic village of Lansallos in Cornwall all the way up to the Isle of Harris in the Scottish Outer Hebrides—is truly breathtaking, with some of the most magnificent beaches I have ever laid my salt-crusted eyes upon.
(Insert bit about how I'm Australian and therefore know a thing or two about a good beach yada yada...) All high-horseyness aside I have been to some pretty unreal spots (like Lucky Bay down on WA's south coast, which is regularly named the best beach in the world) and I can confidently say that some of the beaches I encountered on my trip were as good, if not better.
Oh Sweet, Sweet Frieda
Few journeys proceed in linear fashion. Like any good story there are usually ups and downs, conflicts and resolutions, moments of wonder and moments of despair. In the case of my three-and-a-half week trip I feel the narrative arc can be broken down into two distinct phases: DF (During Frieda) and AF (After Frieda).
Pretty salacious huh? But sadly it's not what you think. Frieda was the marvellous (and I do mean that genuinely, despite what eventuated) 1988 VW T25 campervan I began my trip with, having become massively wedded to the idea of bombing it around the British countryside in a vintage camper. Not to say it wasn't cool—it was—but for a trip that was planned to cover in excess of 1,200 miles the whole thing was a bit mad.
Frieda and I started our journey with a casual 8 hour drive from London to Cornwall, which would have been closer to 5 hours had we been able to do more than 60mph on the motorway. It was also in these early stages that I had to disconnect Frieda's horn after it decided to sound full blare when the ignition was turned on. Early warning signs that I, the eternal optimist, decided to ignore.
The next week or so I remember fondly as a real honeymoon period for me and Frieda. The two of us, cruising down quaint country lanes, visiting some of the most glorious beaches and coastal walks in Cornwall. There is one day in particular that stands out, as we travelled from the tip of the Lizard Peninsula up the coast towards Penzance. It was one of those perfect early spring days, so I decided to park up at Perranuthnoe and walk the coastal path south towards Praa Sands (good luck trying to pronounce that—apparently the locals can't even agree on what's correct).
This is a really stellar stretch of coast with some lovely spots for a dip, but the one that really captured my imagination was a tiny little beach nestled beneath the cliffs called Bessy's Cove. I felt a little bad because I think I may have disturbed someone who was nude sunbathing (which I'm absolutely all for btw), but in fairness a young family came along soon after so I probably did the guy a favour. There was also a seal luxuriating in the turquoise water just off the shore which added to the general sense of serenity.
Anyone who has visited Cornwall will know it's impossible to narrow down the best spots, but if you want my recommendations here are a few favs:
- Porthcurno Beach—Yes it is popular, but for good reason. Perfect white sands and crystal-clear water set amongst dramatic headlands on Cornwall's very southern tip.
- Gwynver Beach—Right next to Sennen Cove with arguably the UK's best car park set atop the cliffs, where you can park up and watch the sun go down.
- Lantic Bay—And really the whole section of the South West Coastal Path between Polperro and Polkeris.
The Rubber Hits The Road
Frieda had made it this far but now we faced the first of our properly long long drives, from Land's End all the way to a campsite near Tenby in Pembrokeshire. It's funny how you sometimes have a sense of cosmic foreboding right before something bad happens, which is exactly how I felt as we neared our final destination. And then, as if on cue, Frieda's temperature warning light flared on.
Thankfully we were close enough to the campsite to make it but I kinda knew at this point we were f'ed. But the show must go on as they say! So the next day I commissioned a very friendly local taxi driver (who had enough stories about his various escapades to Thailand to fill up a Lonely Planet guide) to take me to the village of Dale, where I planned to follow the Pembrokeshire Coast Path all the way around to Broad Haven.
This was a hefty ol' walk but the conditions were exceptional and some of the beaches absolutely blew my mind. A special shout out goes to Marloes Sands in particular, which I really found to be quite magnificent. As I sat eating my well-earned fish and chips, watching the sun go down and wondering how on earth I was going to get back to my campsite, my thoughts returned to Frieda and the seemingly inevitable reality with which we were faced: that our time together was coming swiftly to an end.
Sure enough, having left Pembrokeshire in the direction of the Isle of Anglesey in north Wales, the temperature light went on again and I was forced to crawl my way up to a specialist VW mechanic in Aberystwyth. After examining the engine for approx. 30 seconds he turned to me, lit cigarette hanging out of his mouth, and shook his head.
I won't bore you with the precise details of how I got out of this particular pickle, but let me just say it involved another lengthy taxi ride with a Thailand-obsessed Welshman and a night spent in a Premier Inn in Wigan (which really slapped I can't lie). I was determined to carry on with the remainder of my trip, so I got my hands on a new van—an ultra-modern VW California 6.1 in bright primary red—and set off northwards towards Scotland.
The Best Beaches In The World?
That might sound like hyperbole, but some of the beaches I had the pleasure of visiting on my way up the west coast of Scotland and into the Outer Hebrides really were on another level.
Sanna Beach lies on the very tip of the Ardnamurchan peninsula, miles and miles off the beaten track, and is probably the best beach I have ever been to in my life. Maybe it had something to do with the perfect conditions I was greeted with when I arrived, but I had a real sense of serendipity as I gazed out across the expanse of white sand and perfect turquoise water shimmering in the April sun. Somehow I felt like I was exactly where I needed to be in that moment, a really special feeling. Another honourable mention goes to the wonderful Camusdarach Beach, which is a little further up the coast towards Mallaig.
After moseying my way up through the Scottish Highlands to the Isle of Skye, I hopped onto a ferry at Uig that would take me to the final pièce de résistance of my trip: the Isle of Harris. Harris always had a kind of mythical quality for me—a place so far away, shrouded in mystery with whisperings of endless, perfect, white sandy beaches. And boy did it live up to expectations.
It's really difficult to emphasise just how beautiful the Isle of Harris is. It feels like every time you round a bend, or cross a sand dune, there is another perfect beach stretching out in front of you. Luskentyre Beach, Sgarasta Mhòr, Reef Beach, Nisabost Beach and countless countless others. I've kinda run out of words that do this place justice so I've included some pics below of my favourite spots.
Homeward Bound
If it's not obvious from everything I've written above, I really love the great British outdoors and especially the incredible coastline and beaches we are fortunate to have on this beautiful island. Not only that but I sometimes feel these things go really sorely under-appreciated—especially by those of us who live in big cities like London, where it can often feel that the only way to escape to the seaside is to hop on a flight.
Sure the weather may not always be perfect and some of these places are really tough to get to. But in my mind this simply adds to the reward you get for giving it a try. Take it from me—having grown up in a reliably hot and sunny place with stunning beaches just minutes down the road, you stop appreciating it pretty quickly. That's just human nature.
I'll be hitting the road solo once again this spring, this time with my eyes firmly set on conquering some of the renowned surf spots in Devon and Cornwall. If there is anywhere in particular you would recommend I visit, please do let me know in the comments. I will also be in Salcombe over the early May bank holiday for a lil surprise bit of fun (to be announced soon).
Sax
A Rottnest Island local takes issue with the assertion that the UK might have beaches as good as Australia.
https://www.instagram.com/saxrippa/
