Mersea Island, Essex
The fortunes of this estuary island are linked to the tides. There’s something about having to check the tide times before you set off that gets you in the right frame of mind to visit Mersea. Connected to the Essex coastline by an ancient causeway, the fortunes of this estuary island are linked to the ebb and flow of the tides. They provide the perfect conditions for the oysters that have been cultivated here since Roman times but they can also be treacherous, as anyone who has made the mistake of driving across the Strood at high tide with seawater lapping at their wheels will testify.
For as long as I can remember my family’s summers have been punctuated by trips to Mersea, whether it’s an outing to eat vinegar-soaked cockles on a bench overlooking the estuary, or a September foray in search of the first Colchester native oysters of the season. But it’s not just the seafood that brings us back. It’s the sense of something shifting when you cross on to the island.
West Mersea is the island’s main hub. Photograph: Eastern Views/AlamyLife moves at a different pace here. Even in West Mersea, which is the hub of the island’s tourism activity, the attractions are delightfully low-key: crabbing off the jetty, watching sailing boats from the marina and strolling around the little tangle of fisherman’s cottages known as “the Old City”.
Down on West Mersea’s shingle beach, a row of beach huts cuts a bright swathe through the muted landscape of watery blues and browns. A handful have been kitted out in vintage style and can be rented by the day from the Little Beach Hut Company.
On summer weekends the West Mersea waterfront can get busy but it’s easy enough to escape the crowds. Our favourite spot for beachcombing is Cudmore Grove country park on the island’s eastern tip, where fossils and hippopotamus bones have been uncovered by coastal erosion and, if you’re lucky, you may spot a red squirrel.
East Mersea is also home to Mersea Island Vineyard, where you can pick up a bottle of white wine or oyster stout, and Seafood at Dawn, an unpretentious restaurant on a country road, serves up fresh seafood platters.
As the sun sets, the exodus back to the mainland begins. But if Mersea is beginning to work its magic on you, check into the White Hart, a newly renovated inn from the team behind the Sun Inn in Dedham, offering six jaunty guest rooms and an adventurous menu that runs the gamut from bone marrow custard tart to steamed mussels. And oysters of course. There will always be oysters. Joanne O’Connor
Cliftonville and Margate, Kent
The ‘loveliest skies in Europe’ cliche really is justified. My earliest memories of Cliftonville are of being a toddler and having temper tantrums on the pavement along Northdown Road. Or so I’ve been reminded by my mother over the years. Back then, it was a key shopping stretch for anyone living, as my family did, in the suburban blur between Broadstairs and Margate.
Although we left the area long ago, we continued to visit every summer to wander the chalk cliffs and swim in its bays. The harbour arm is especially atmospheric at low tide, with boats marooned on hard sand, the whiff of seaweed in the air. And a true constant are the flaming sunsets: that well-worn cliche of the “loveliest skies in Europe” – attributed to Turner – really is justified.
But back in the bleak mid-00s, all talk was of the delayed new Turner Contemporary. The first palpable sense of change I can remember was the burning of Antony Gormley’s towering Waste Man in 2006, when cafes and pubs were rammed.
Looking towards the Turner Contemporary. Photograph: David Willis/AlamyAfter the gamechanging gallery finally opened in 2011, I’d peer out of its first-floor windows at the sea in awe. Soon the Old Town began to reinvent itself, while up on Northdown Road, new businesses took over derelict units on a street that, since my childhood, had fallen on hard times.
Fast forward to 2023 and Margate is confidently in its stride, I’m always sure to check out new galleries such as Carl Freedman and head to now-classic restaurants like Sargasso, Dory’s or Bottega Caruso (tip: don’t miss the newer Fort Road Hotel’s double-height basement cocktail bar).
And yet it’s Cliftonville’s re-emergence – a century ago, Margate’s most fashionable quarter – that continues apace. Some of my favourite friendly neighbourhood openings include Good Egg, the taco joint Daisy and the chic wine bars Sète and The Streets. A rising LGBTQ+ community is adding to its distinctive identity and celebrated in venues like the Margate Arts Club, and the fun Camp Margate.
A Margate sunset. Photograph: Stephen EmmsOne problem that plagues the resort is accommodation. There still aren’t enough well-priced hotels for the volume of summer visitors, while Airbnbs can charge silly prices, especially around uber-popular Margate Pride. A new arrival, No 42 Guesthouse, usefully replaces the former Sands Hotel on the seafront this month (B&B from £180), while another option is George & Heart House (B&B from £115), a beautifully restored 18th-century building whose six artist-designed bedrooms reference Margate’s colourful past – while feeling utterly contemporary. Stephen Emms
North Norfolk coast
I tramp along shingle past wetlands and yellow horned-poppies. The salt marsh is purple with sea lavender and alive with ringed plovers and oystercatchers. The Norfolk coast feels timeless, but these marshes were once sea, drained and farmed, now restored and full of wildlife. Two spoonbills fly overhead; another is probing a muddy fen nearby. I’ve never seen these rare birds before and suddenly they are everywhere. There are smaller birds, too, round the coconut-scented gorse bushes: pipits, soaring larks and ruddy-breasted linnets in a twittering flock.
Salt marsh between Morston and Blakeney. Photograph: Chris Herring/AlamySince we moved to Essex a decade ago, I’ve got the train to Norfolk dozens of times and grown to love its wild marshes and huge changeable skies. I’m here again for a couple of days to walk the coast path between Cromer railway station and Wells-next-the-Sea. The Coasthopper bus runs parallel to the 22-mile route with views across fields of poppies to the sea. The path climbs over flowering headlands and tramps along shingle, past yellow horned-poppies and wader-rich wetlands, until finally the brick tower and white sails of Cley windmill appear across reedbeds.
Next morning, mist streams from the warming sands and a wrecked wooden boat is melting into silvery purslane. Arriving in Wells, past winding creeks and quayside lobster pots, the afternoon is sweltering and the beach, with its cheerful huts on stilts, is another mile away along a shadeless bank. A new electric bus shuttles summer visitors back and forth and its air-conditioned seats are blissful. Two seals flollop on to the sand while I’m swimming. I walk on through dunes and pinewoods to Holkham’s Lookout cafe and eat wrapper-free real-fruit lollies while nesting swallows circle through the slatted wooden walls.
White spoonbill at Holkham, Norfolk. Photograph: Nature Picture Library/AlamyThe colourful Globe Inn (B&B doubles from £119), overlooking a chestnut-lined park in Wells, is a minute’s walk from the bus stop. Cheaper options include Deepdale Camping, farther west along the coast path. There are several great pubs such as the Dun Cow in Salthouse.
Previous trips involved chips on the pier and whole-crab sandwiches from Cafe Main in Cromer. I’ve climbed the viewing towers in Sheringham Park to look out over mauve, pink and crimson rhododendrons (free), taken boat trips from Morston to see the seals, and visited peaceful churches.
Phoebe Taplin
Barafundle Bay, Pembrokeshire
From the first swelling of pink light on the horizon it was magical. It started when we crossed the grassy headland and emerged above Barafundle Bay. It was shortly before dawn on Midsummer Day and we were about to scale some Pembrokeshire cliffs with the rock-climbing instructor Henry Castle. I had no idea what to expect, but from that moment on it was magical: from the first gentle swelling of pink light on the horizon to the last murmuration of starlings in the gloaming.
Barafundle is a popular beach on a good summer’s day. We were alone that morning, but in my experience the sands can be busy, although never packed. The half-mile walk does deter some. Swim out to the rock arches on the right for a bit of excitement, or swim left for Lort’s cave.