The UK beaches loved by Caitlin Moran, Alan Titchmarsh and more

Times

11-06-2025

What makes a good beach? For some it must be wild and secluded; for others the priority is having a good chippy nearby. And for many of us, it's the memories associated with a place that matter more than anything. Memories of family outings to the seaside where you'd go paddling with your mum, buy huge ice creams and run for cover when the weather turned.
As we gear up for our annual guide to the best UK beaches, David Baddiel, Val McDermid, Alan Titchmarsh and others choose the places that mean most to them.
We were a big hippy family in a Volkswagen caravanette, driving the entire length of Cardigan Bay, trying to find 'our' beach. My father's stipulations were simple: he didn't want to see anyone else. It should be a beach with only us on it. He was not a very sociable man.
When the tide goes out, Ynyslas is two miles wide and a mile to the sea: if there were any other people there, they were just tiny black dots on the horizon. We would turn up as the tide turned, then follow it out: every twenty minutes, there would be something new. Huge pools you could swim in; descending clouds of shrill oystercatchers. Shells and pebbles, and flat wet sand we could all draw tits and willies on with sticks.
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We would be out there all day — sunburning on a sand bar in the middle of Cardigan Bay. In the distance you could see Snowdonia (which we never went to) and Pembrokeshire (which we never went to). We never wanted to go anywhere else because we had found the best beach: nothing could ever be more beautiful than a day spent on this empty, bird-filled beach.
If the wind got up, it would send vast lines of dry sand snaking across the beach — it would flay your legs like sandpaper. We would all sit down in a huddle, like penguins, until it stopped. We liked how savage it could sometimes be. We were all under 12 years old. It made us feel like global explorers, even though we were less than a mile from pasties in the Spar.
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The locals said you could sometimes see whales migrating. We would stand on the top of the sand dunes, looking out, trying to spot them. Once, we thought we had seen a school of hundreds — until our father explained that those shapes were just the reflections of rain clouds. I think we all still privately think we did see whales. It felt like they were whales. Just us, and the whales, and the sand.
I am half-Welsh, and every summer when I was a child our family went to Swansea. But the beach I want to recommend is not the one we always went to, Swansea Bay (where in my memory the tide went out so far that getting to the sea was like walking back to England) but one we never visited: Three Cliffs Bay in the Gower peninsula.
Of all the beaches in the UK, it is the one that most feels like nature was really thinking about it. The towering limestone cliffs surround the sand like a stage set, their three-ness creating a sense that the rushing waves of the sea are breaking the fourth wall in God's own theatre.
I went there with friends in my twenties and couldn't believe the beauty. And also that my parents were so deeply unbothered with beauty that they could never be f***ed to drive 30 minutes out of Swansea to see it. David Baddiel's My Family: The Memoir is out now in paperback
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I first visited Achmelvich, on Scotland's west coast north of Lochinver, 52 years ago, in the summer before university. It's had a special place in my heart ever since. It's a glorious crescent of white sand and it's almost always empty. That it's nearly always lashing with rain in that part of the Highlands has never put me off — in fact I think it adds to the experience. When it's pouring with rain the beach has a raw beauty and when the sun does make a rare appearance it makes it look like the Med.
I feel like a traitor for telling you this, but just around the corner from Camber Sands is Greatstone in Kent, and it is magnificent. It has the same long, golden dunes of Camber, but almost zero people whatsoever. Whenever you turn up you might find a clutch of dog walkers, maybe some horse riders, but that's about it. I discovered Greatstone during lockdown — I ended up taking my children there most mornings — and so it still feels a bit like my little secret. So go by all means, just don't tell anyone.
Essex has some lovely beaches, around Point Clear past St Osyth, and we're very fond of parts of north Norfolk, Hope Cove in south Devon and the areas near Lynton and Lynmouth in the north of the county. But we had a beach hut at Thorpe Bay, Southend. Pebbles, crabs, cold water and a treacherous tide that came in quick and encircled those who walked out too far. But we could play cricket on the green behind and my nan would cook a full roast dinner on a Calor gas stove because she was crackers. I've always thought beaches are about the people, not the sand.
Forget sunsets, Aldeburgh on the east coast is all about sunrise. The beach is empty then, but for doughty year-round swimmers, a horizontal line of grey shingle with often-matching sky and sea. I love seeing the fishermen's boats returning to sell their catch in wooden huts, and walking south to the Martello tower where you're sandwiched between river and sea. Aldeburgh beach is hard on the feet, the water is icy even in June. It's an acquired taste, pleasingly austere.
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Just below the Minack Theatre at Porthcurno in Cornwall is the most glorious arc of creamy white sand that leads down to an azure sea. Dolphins leap through the waves and high above is the theatre, nestled among the rocks. It really is a little bit of paradise. Porthcurno Beach is the one for me.
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King Edward's Bay is a rather lovely beach, just below Tynemouth. The sand is golden, the water usually as calm as it is deep blue. But a great beach is transformed into a legendary one by Riley's Fish Shack, which sits above it and serves some of the best seafood in the country. And on a beautiful summer's day, when the sun gleams off the water, and you're tucking into grilled local lobster, langoustines and a Craster kipper wrap, there's nowhere I'd rather be on earth.
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Drive past the ponies, heather and gorse of Exmoor and you finally come to the hidden beaches of north Devon, perfect, as Agatha Christie discovered, for surfing, rock pooling, sandcastles and sandy sandwiches. My favourite is Saunton Sands, three and a half miles and two and a half million square metres of gold sand, used to practise for the D-Day landings. In winter you can gallop on horses through its waves and walk the dogs. In the summer, there's an ice-cream shop, an ace café and well stocked beach huts to rent for £30 a day. The nearest village is miles away and its dunes and cliffs are protected by the Unesco North Devon biosphere reserve.
The Times and Sunday Times UK Beach guide will reveal the 50 best beaches around the country. It will be available online on July 7 and in print on July 13
Let us know your favourite beach in the comments below