Filey has come out on top in The Sunday Times 50 Best British Beaches 2018, winning the coveted title of Beach of the Year. From a surfer’s paradise in Cornwall to secluded sands in Scotland, Chris Haslam, The Sunday Times’ chief travel writer has compiled the definitive list of Britain’s best beaches for 2018.

He has chosen the 50 best beaches out of the hundreds he’s inspected around our coast, reporting back on the water quality, the activities on offer, the quality of food available and the magic in their sands.

The guide gives readers a description of the scenery and setting, as well as all the practical information needed to plan a beach day, including car parking, toilets, refreshments, shops and accommodation.

Sir Gary Verity DL, Chief Executive at Welcome to Yorkshire, said “It’s such a fantastic and incredibly well-deserved win for the beautiful seaside town of Filey to be given the tremendous honour of The Sunday Times’ Beach of the Year. The vast expanse of glorious golden sand is enjoyed all year round and the picturesque resort was a stunning backdrop for this year’s hugely successful Tour de Yorkshire, watched by millions in 190 countries. Yorkshire’s amazing coastline has received numerous awards for its spectacular beaches and it’s great to see other places of coastal beauty from this wonderful county also featured – Spurn, a fabulous tidal island with lighthouses and abundant wildlife, plus Boggle Hole, is a favourite with fossil hunters, and can be combined with a lovely walk to or from the popular fishing village of Robin Hood’s Bay. Life’s a beach when you visit Yorkshire.”

Chris Haslam’s review:

FILEY, NORTH YORKSHIRE BEACH OF THE YEAR

At 4pm on Friday June 1, I drove down Crescent Hill to Filey’s villa-lined seafront. A roke was lurking just offshore, but the sands were glittering in the afternoon sunshine. Wildly optimistic surfers were bobbing around on a millpond sea and as I walked along the billiard-flat beach, a group of kids were admiring a sandcastle decked out like Royal Windsor on a wedding day. I wandered past Church Ravine, heading to Filey Brigg – the low headland to the north, where rabbits scarpered and a peregrine falcon swooped among screeching flocks of guillemots and indignant oyster catchers. A single grey seal bobbed at the edge of the mist like an enemy frogman, watching me as I rummaged unsuccessfully in the rockpools for crabs. I might have had more luck along the cliff path at Casty Rocks, but the whiff of vinegar dragged me back to the Coble Landing where the fishing boats are hauled out and where I bought a bag of chips and ate them on the sand. Then I blew £5.40 on the slots in Holdsworth’s Amusements, played Crazy Golf on the Prom (£2.20) went for a paddle and learned from a couple of grizzled beach casters that a mackerel and lugworm combo worked best for the nightly invasion of whiting. As the light faded and the fog crept closer I left Filey. Gentrification has arrived but as yet there are no hipster craft cocktail joints and Rick Stein is unlikely to ever open a fish restaurant here. Filey doesn’t need all that because it casts a different spell: it turns you into a kid again.

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