SerpApi.Org
All summer, Telegraph Travel will be taking the pulse of Britain’s seaside towns, examining the efforts being made to regenerate them, and reflecting on whether they are still worth visiting. This week: Paul Bloomfield visits Minehead.
With all due respect to Queen Anne, she has Minehead all wrong.
I’ve some sympathy, mind. From her perch on Wellington Square she turns up her regal nose at a Wetherspoons, Fone Revive, E-Cig City and KnickerBockerGlory lingerie. But if she could lift her imperious gaze above the estate agents and vape shops, she’d glimpse the magnificent natural feature that lent the town its name: North Hill, known in Old English as Mynheafdon – “Mountain Headland”. And that’s only the most prominent of Minehead’s physical charms.
I learned that etymological titbit at the town’s compact but engaging (and free) museum, which provides a lively historical run-through. A sizeable settlement at the time of Domesday Book, Minehead burgeoned through herring fishing then maritime trade. After the devastating fire of 1791, its fortunes revived with the Victorian sea-bathing and tourism boom, boosted by the arrival of the railway in 1874. Steamer passengers then flooded along the long, elegant pier – until it was dismantled during the Second World War. Butlin’s opened in 1962, mitigating the package-tour slump that floored so many British seaside towns.
Passing statuesque Anne on her plinth to explore, I found an attractive – if not electrifying – Somerset market town. Echoes of its genteel Victorian pomp drift through Blenheim Gardens and along a seafront lined by grand sandstone mansions and hotels, bookended by Butlin’s at one end, the perky harbour (good crabbing, I’m told) and Exmoor’s soaring cliffs at the other.
What’s it really like?
Minehead is a great place to depart from. That’s not a dig; it’s surrounded by seductive delights.
Near the historic harbour, a folded-map monument marks the start (or end) of the South West Coast Path (SWCP), traversing Exmoor National Park, home to red deer, rare ponies, reintroduced beavers, pine martens and, soon, white-tailed eagles.
At the eastern end of the Esplanade, a whiff of coal and steam announces the terminus of the West Somerset Railway, its vintage locos trundling nostalgist passengers 20 miles through the Quantock Hills.
Then there’s Butlin’s, which swallows most overnight stays. Clearly it’s not aimed at this childless middle-aged curmudgeon, especially since the demise of the aerial monorail – monorail! – in the Nineties. But for families it’s a bargain no-brainer, with abundant activities, pools, playgrounds and entertainment, plus the effusive redcoat troupes. Even I simpered and grinned on meeting fuzzy mascot Bonnie Bear. Day passes offer good value.
The Maharajah of Jaipur’s polo steeds no longer gallop across the strand, but Minehead has a generous scoop of beach – more so since 300,000-plus tons of sand were shipped in around 1999. Winsome rust-red, late-Victorian edifices flank the Avenue running back from the seafront into the centre, where you’ll find pubs, restaurants and a heartening smatter of independent shops.
Yes, and artisan, organic sourdough: head to the Kind Kitchen on Thursday or Saturday, or at the toothsome Friday farmers’ market. Here, too, is the Regal Theatre, an art-deco mainstay hosting comedy, films, music festivals and local dramatic productions – ideal for inevitable damp days.
What’s not to like?
Honestly? Not much. The complaint I heard most frequently was: the Co-op’s closed down. Minehead is resolutely nice, though not posh. For that, nip down the road to Dunster.
The latest Which? chart of best and worst UK seaside towns awarded Minehead a miserly overall score of 61 per cent, and docked marks for its beach, seafront/pier, and food and drink offerings. It’s true that the demise of the much-mourned (by me, anyway) model village and seafront lido leave the front sparse on traditional seaside action. Beneath dour skies, the basic little crazy-golf course seemed desolate – though on another day, cheeks not stung by sideways rain, I might have relished its retro appeal.
West Somerset has been identified as the least socially mobile community nationwide – 324th out of 324 – with limited local opportunities for youngsters. I found an antidote at Minehead EYE, a youth-centric skate park, recording studio, climbing wall, roller disco and music café rolled into one. “When somebody comes in and says they’ve got a skill or they’d like to try something, we say: let’s give it a go,” says ebullient mastermind Paul Matcham. Tourists are welcome, too.
Depending on taste, the nascent Hinkley Point C nuclear power station is either a Grimshaw masterpiece or a carbuncle on the eastern horizon.
What to do
Sample the South West Coast Path and Exmoor’s scenic bounty. Tackle the accurately named Zigzag Path starting behind the SWCP monument on Quay St to scale forest-bewigged mini-mountain North Hill, glancing back between oaks, pines and rhododendrons for sweeping views across the bay. Descend to sea level through quaint Higher Town, ducking into medieval St Michael’s Church and between chocolate-box thatches on Church Steps.
Come May Day, the Hobby Horse – reputedly created in the distant past to ward off Viking invaders – parades through town bedecked with kaleidoscopic ribbons. Unmissable mayhem.
Where to eat
A culinary crowd-pleaser Minehead is not. You’re only ever steps from fish and chips or ice cream, but you won’t find gourmet dining closer than Dunster. For daytime caffeine and calories, head to Toucan Café, above its namesake wholefoods shop on The Parade, serving Minehead’s veggie residents since 1982 – a bright, welcoming spot with surprisingly indulgent plant-focused fare and patisserie.
Foxes Hotel is the feel-good (and taste-good) evening venue of choice: a training hotel for young people with learning disabilities, it offers relatively imaginative cuisine. Harbourside stalwart The Old Ship Aground is a solid bet for pub grub and a pleasingly yo-ho-ho-and-a-bottle-of-rum vibe.
What not to do
Brought your swimming togs or watersports kit? Don’t neglect to check the tides (posted at the harbourmaster’s office on Quay St) before inflating your paddleboard. The world’s second-largest tidal range – topping 10m – inundates and evacuates this stretch of coast. So if your timing’s out (as on the day of my visit, when I’d have needed a telescope to spy the distant glint of sea on the horizon), you could face a very, very tedious shlep out to the brine. More importantly, you risk succumbing to the sinking mud and soft sand exposed at low tide, or to dangerously rapid surges as it rises.
From a local
“When you’ve lived here for a while, you take it a little for granted,” says Marcus Kravis, Councillor and owner of Arkade amusements, notable for its intriguingly retro pinball collection. “But it’s beautiful. I can’t think of another seaside resort I’d like to live – and I’ve been to almost all in Britain (except Redcar, for some reason).”
“It’s a good place for children,” adds Edina, a Romanian who’s lived here for 12 years. “You have everything – hills, a beach. It’s like my little hometown where I grew up, a safe place. Many people moan about Butlin’s, and traffic can be bad on Monday and Friday changeover days – but some shops depend on its customers.”
From a tourist
“We’ve been pleasantly surprised – it’s so lovely and clean,” said Anne and Andy Scott, from Scotland (via Oxford). “Not like other seaside resorts we’ve been to – Morecambe, for example. There are flowers everywhere, with such well-kept gardens. And we love the West Somerset Railway – like a big Hornby train set, with wonderful volunteers.”
Get there
Minehead’s relative inaccessibility contributes to its allure. The only train service is now the heritage West Somerset Railway from Bishop’s Lydeard (£25.50 single/£38 return, 80-85 mins), 6 miles north-west of Taunton. Alternatively, bus 28 runs Taunton-Minehead half-hourly (hourly on Sundays; 90mins).
