In the 16 times I've holidayed in the Llyn Peninsula (over the past 22 summers), and yet I've never visited Towyn Beach, an absolutely delightful sandy bay, secluded and sheltered from wind and high seas. My brother and his wife Jane discovered Towyn on an earlier trip here, and today, with the wind in the south-west, we decided to spend several hours on this beautiful beach - the epitome of what a British beach should be.
Located on the north coast of the Llyn Peninsula, Towyn is neither signposted nor promoted; access is via a kilometre-long sheep track (below) that winds down from the headland. No asphalt, no easy way down.
Below: as one turns the corner, the path opens up a new vista on a calm bay, absolutely perfect for sunbathing, paddling, making sandcastles or (if you can brave the cold), swimming. Incidentally, don't tell me the Baltic's cold if you've not swum off the coast of Wales.
Below: and here we are - a hidden gem of a beach. The kind John Betjeman recalled from his childhood holidays in Cornwall. Smaller though (even) less populous than Porthoer that we visited three days ago, Towyn offers similar pleasures. The sand is smooth and clean, inviting me to run across it at full speed in the joy of being alive.
Left: view from the opposite hillside. We parked our things nearer to this end of the beach. Shortly after we arrived and changed into our swimwear, the heavens opened, and a short shower lashed down soaking everything. Less hardy souls rushed for the (distant) car park.
We braved it out, shivering under sodden beach-towels; our fortitude was rewarded when the rain cloud passed yielding to lovely sunshine which lasted the whole of the afternoon.
Below: sadly, it's time to leave - Eddie and Cousin Hoavis wait for the stragglers as we head back to the cars, with tanned skins, hair full of sand, damp clothes and spirits full of the joy at having spent a long afternoon on the Great British Coast at its very finest.
This time three years ago:
On being motivated
Michael - looks like a great holiday! Enjoy.
ReplyDeleteI seem to remember a bread named Hoavis from when I lived in London.