5. Saltburn-by-the-Sea, North Yorkshire
I have bittersweet memories of Saltburn. Yes, it’s a charming seaside town, designed by a Victorian philanthropist, on a sandy stretch of coast. Yes, it has a genuine 16th-century smugglers’ tavern, the Ship Inn, which still echoes with the ghosts of the past. And yes, it has a pretty pier, untroubled by tourist tat, where I surfed by moonlight one clear November night, in head-high waves that shimmered as they broke.
But my memories are clouded by the 17-day flat spell I sat through as I attempted to surf every beach in Britain. That’s 17 days staring out to sea from Saltburn’s brief-but-charming promenade; 17 days sitting in various delightful tea houses (until I was ejected for vagrancy). Living in a van, I used the Sitting Room, a cosy cafe by the station, as, well, my sitting room. It does a good line in mismatched 1970s furniture, delicious cakes and interesting cocktails.