Do you remember where you were this time last year? I do. I was by the sea, on a restaurant terrace, overlooking a sunset. “So was I,” you’re probably thinking — and so you probably were. What were you drinking? (Me? A negroni). Smoking? (Camels/hot). Were there sailing boats gliding past and beaming against the orange sky and salt blowing in your face from the waves crashing onto the rocks? Same.
The point is I was not in Faro or San Sebastian or Biarritz. I was in St Mawes, a fishing village in Cornwall, four hours door-to-door from London and a world away from the sweats of Ibiza. The day before, I’d been for a breathtaking walk on Porthcurnick Beach and stopped at a café on the cliff for a lobster bisque. The café’s quite famous, apparently, and owned by a bloke called Simon Stallard, who is quite famous too. According to his website he is “passionate about sustainable dining that connects people to their environment”, which is to say that people travel far and wide to eat his soups and buy his cookbook. Besides the café — called the Hidden Hut — he owns a gastropub, the Standard Inn, where I stopped by another evening. Best meal of my life.
There are two contrasting stories of the British seaside. In the first, long stretches of the South Coast (Dorset, Devon and Cornwall, aka the British riviera) and areas such as the Hebrides, north Norfolk and Isles of Scilly (a hit with Jude Law and the Prince and Princess of Wales) continue to capture the imagination. They are among the most picturesque spots in Europe. In the second, many of Britain’s coastal towns suffered extraordinary decline in the Seventies, contiguous with the downturn of industry and the rise of cheap package holidays in southern Europe. Most have never recovered.
The first story is one of continued success. Every year, 11.5 million visitors are drawn to Dorset for its thatched-roof cottages, great food and sandy beaches. In Devon, tourism accounts for 10 per cent of all employment. In Cornwall, it’s 20 per cent.
The second story is a sad tale of government failure and neglect. In Scarborough on the coast of North Yorkshire, the Grand Hotel that was once a revolving door of famous faces — Edith Sitwell, Winston Churchill — is now owned by the budget chain Britannia.
But times are changing. As the sun sets on southern Europe’s glory days (too hot, too crowded, and increasingly hostile, with locals in Spain protesting at overtourism) the tide is turning in favour of cooler climes. The issue, however, is that the British Riviera and other “honeypots” (as the podcaster and travel author Phoebe Smith calls them, may end up benefiting almost exclusively from this northbound redirection of summer tourism, leaving those parts of the seaside that are already struggling in the dust.
The strange death of (southern) Europe
French singer Serge Gainsbourg may have written the soundtrack of a generation when he released Sea, Sex and Sun in 1978 — but St Tropez these days is far, far less chic. As for Mykonos, forget it: the party set has decamped to Bodrum. I give it two years before they move again. Summer in southern Europe, as we’ve known it, is over. Climate change plays a big part, as anyone whose holiday has been ruined by wildfires will know; but the sea change is cultural, too. Recent years have been unkind to hot girl summer.
It’s no longer fashionable to spend one’s holidays tanning, partying and getting piercings in unwise places. What’s in instead is surfing, self-love, and sobriety. Smith calls them “cool-cations”.
It girl and entrepreneur Lindsey Holland runs a surf retreat, Marnie Rays, in Cornwall: a sport she first took up while nursing herself through heartbreak. “Surfing brought me back to myself,” she says. “It teaches you to be calm and patient. You can’t think of anything else while you’re doing it.” Being #fullypresent is the top trend in health and wellness, encompassing cold exposure, guided meditation and sound baths designed to bring peace and quiet to our insanely plugged-in lives. Holland believes wellness is now a top priority for holidaymakers. It’s also one of the reasons why tourism in Scandinavia — where saunas and white fish are the order of the day — has boomed in recent years. In 2023 the sector added an estimated $124 billion to the regional economy, up about six per cent from the year before.
Going green… and chic
The rise of wellness goes hand in hand with that of staycations and ecotourism. It’s all about sustainability; local food and local people. But enjoying what we have at our fingertips doesn’t come for free. Our rail services are the most expensive in Europe. Labour’s plans to renationalise them and install a “best fare guarantee” will do little to lower prices, says Tony Miles, who has covered the industry for more than 40 years.
Where there’s good food, walks and weather on offer, though, some will always pay up. In those departments, the British Riviera cleans up. Celebrities abound: Holland spotted Dua Lipa and her boyfriend Callum Turner in Cornwall last week; the town of Mawgan Porth, near Polzeath, is (second) home to Cate Blanchett and Jason Statham. Kate Winslet and Noel Gallagher have also been spotted on the beach. Just up the coast is Padstow, with golf courses and Michelin restaurants aplenty, including Rick Stein’s Café and Paul Ainsworth at No 6. Over in Poole, Dorset, the upmarket neighbourhood of Sandbanks is home to the Redknapp football family, and Liam Gallagher used to live there as well.
These are destinations that cater to the well-heeled, but they work for everyone, some say. Jack Stein, a restaurateur and the son of Rick Stein, who owns restaurants in Cornwall and Dorset, tells me how the focus on sustainability in the food sector has been a boon to local business. “The money tourists spend here stays in the area,” he says. “With food tourism, everyone [in the village] benefits”.
There is a risk of going too far in our attempts to ape wellness and eco trends. For one thing, it risks turning off travellers craving British authenticity: pubs, Punch & Judy and helter-skelters are part of a fabric that risks being eroded.
Two questions remain, then: how to make the seaside more accessible to all; and will it follow suit that parts of the coast which have been neglected will begin to regenerate if tourism is given a chance to bounce back?
Cheaper trains alone won’t be enough to tempt tourists to less trendy spots: the issue is publicity. “It’s my biggest bugbear than no one seems to know about north Wales,” Smith tells me. “The terrain is so rich, the coastline so beautiful.” Except for Josh O’Connor, who was spotted not long ago by a friend at the George III pub in the Welsh village of Penmaenpool. In an era where holiday bookings are at the mercy of online virality — geological marvels look great on Instagram, but it’s also about vibes — the formula for wooing visitors is changing. Those able to keep up will reap the rewards.
To gentrify or not to gentrify
As for regeneration: what might that look like? Is gentrification — as seen in Cornwall or Cumbria — a necessary evil or a red herring? Take Margate in Kent. The government grant given to its high street, prime spot on the Levelling Up agenda and the opening of an art school and foundation by Dame Tracey Emin has helped turn a once “miserable” area into one fashionable with artists and the London set (Emma Corrin, Lily Allen). It’s Hackney-on-sea replete with boutique hotels (Fort Road, Margate House), yet remains the 21st most deprived area in the UK — out of 32,844 locations. Tourism can change the look of a coastline and create employment, but it can’t eradicate poverty. This, of course, has always been the case. Southern Europe knows it all too well. So, if we are to invest in our coastline, as we should, we also need to think long and hard about what that means for those already there.
Beach bites
Five seaside spots to know
The Pandora Inn, Cornwall. The building has been around since the 13th century – and on a sunny day there is no place like it. Located at the junction of the river Fal, Carrick Roads and the English Channel, it’s best to come by boat and get a table on the dock.
The Three Chimneys, Colbost, Isle of Skye. Housed within a 100-year-old stone cottage, this Michelin-recommended restaurant sits on the shore of Loch Dunvegan, an artery of the Atlantic. Seafood is from local waters and all other produce from Skye itself. Contemporary art hangs on exposed stone walls in low-beamed dining rooms.
Ruin Beach Café, Tresco, Scilly. The first thing to know about Tresco is that cars are banned. It’s the second biggest island in the archipelago, and this is its best restaurant: a gastropub on the beach that serves pizzas on giant bat-and-ball rackets.
Catch at the Old Fish Market, Weymouth, Dorset. Catch sits above a fishmonger’s and overlooks Weymouth harbour. You’d think that would make it smelly but it doesn’t. The food is delicious and locally sourced, as is the wine summoned from Dorset, Devon and Hampshire.
Eric’s Fish and Chips, Thornham, Norfolk. The fish is freshly sourced from the North Sea and fried in the lightest yet sturdiest beer batter around. No flakiness, no oil, no mess: just a perfect balance of flavours that leaves you in that sweet spot between sated and wanting more. The chips and mushy peas are excellent too.
