
South East Devon and the Dorset coast are not polished postcard places once you really get to know them. They are windburnt, weather beaten and sometimes downright rough around the edges. That is exactly why people fall in love with them.
This stretch of coastline is full of chipped paint, fishing ropes, old caravan parks, pebbles in your shoes and cafés serving mugs of tea strong enough to wake the dead. The weather changes every five minutes. The sea can look turquoise one day and furious the next. In winter, whole towns feel like they are being battered sideways by Atlantic winds.
And somehow, all of that makes it feel more real.
Sidmouth

Beautiful, But Not Pretending
Sidmouth gets called pretty a lot, and it is, but it is not delicate. The sea absolutely hammers the esplanade during storms and the wind coming off the Jurassic Coast can make your face ache in winter.
There is a strange honesty to Sidmouth. You get the neat Regency hotels and cream teas, but you also get old boys in waterproofs staring at the sea, gulls tearing people’s fish and chips away, and locals marching along the esplanade in sideways rain like it is perfectly normal.
Some mornings the cliffs glow red in the sun and the place looks almost unreal. Other days it feels grey and tired and salt-stained. Both versions are beautiful.
What I love about Sidmouth is that it feels oddly untouched by time. Parts of it still feel somewhere between 1987 and 1994 in the best possible way. Not shabby, not stuck, just reassuringly unbothered by trends. Old hotel carpets, hotel tea rooms that have not changed their menu in decades, little independent shops, coach trips arriving at lunchtime, brass bands on the seafront, and people who still properly dress for dinner. There is something comforting about that.

Then every summer the town suddenly wakes up in a different way during the Sidmouth Folk Festival. The streets fill with fiddles, Morris dancers, muddy boots, accordions and music drifting out of pubs late into the night. You can be walking along the esplanade and suddenly hear a full folk session spilling out of a hotel bar.
For the best views in town, it is hard to beat Victoria Hotel. Sitting above the sea with those huge lawns looking over the bay, it feels grand without being too stiff. Even if you are only stopping for a drink or lunch, the view across the coastline is worth it alone.

And then there is Jacob’s Ladder, the long white Victorian staircase built into the cliffs to connect the beach with Connaught Gardens and the coastal paths above, which somehow sums the whole town up. It was originally built simply to make access easier, but over time became part of Sidmouth’s character. In summer sunshine it looks charming and almost genteel, but after a big meal or in a howling coastal wind it suddenly feels like a proper expedition. At the top though, you get one of the best views anywhere on the coast: red cliffs, green hills and the sea stretching endlessly out towards Lyme Bay. It is the sort of place that reminds you Sidmouth is not polished postcard Devon. It is wilder, older and far more real than that.
Branscombe

Stressful Roads, Perfect Cottages and a Beach Café Worth the Hassle
Getting into Branscombe can feel like a test of patience and nerve.
The roads narrow down into proper Devon single tracks where you suddenly find yourself reversing uphill into a hedge while another driver does the awkward little steering-wheel apology wave. In summer, when tourists arrive in oversized SUVs completely unprepared for rural lanes, it can become absolute chaos. But then you arrive and immediately understand why people put up with it.
Branscombe is quaint and picturesque. Thick thatched cottages with crooked roofs, old stone walls, gardens spilling over with flowers and tiny lanes that seem frozen in time. It does not feel polished or manufactured either. It still feels like a real village rather than an outdoor museum built for Instagram.
Down at the beach, things become more rugged again. Pebles crunch under your feet, the sea rolls in hard and the cliffs loom around the bay. After the stress of the drive, sitting outside the beach café with a slice of cake and a cup of tea feels strangely rewarding, especially when the wind is coming in off the water and everyone looks slightly windswept.
It is one of those places that feels properly Devon. Beautiful, awkward, slightly chaotic and entirely worth the effort once you get there.
Ladram Bay

Caravan Holidays and Ancient Cliffs
Ladram Bay should be one of the most breathtaking spots on the Jurassic Coast. The huge red sandstone sea stacks rising out of the water look almost prehistoric, especially when the evening light hits them. But there is also something slightly sad about the endless caravan park wrapped around it all. Rows of static caravans and entertainment blocks crowd what could otherwise feel wild and timeless. The beauty is still there, absolutely, but you cannot help feeling the landscape deserves a little more space to breathe.
That said, the bay itself is brilliant for kayaking or paddle boarding around the stacks when the sea is calm. The sheltered water makes it one of the better spots on this stretch of coast for getting out on the water, and seeing those towering red rocks from sea level is something special.
Budleigh Salterton

Pebbles, Wind and Dog Walkers
Budleigh Salterton is quieter and older somehow. Less trying to impress anyone.
The beach is steep and covered in pebbles that attack your ankles if you are not paying attention. The sea often looks cold even in summer. But there is something comforting about it. People walking dogs before breakfast. Pensioners sitting in parked cars watching the waves. Swimmers heading into freezing water year-round because apparently that is good for you.
It is not flashy. It does not need to be.
Beer

Working Boats and Stunning Beach
Beer still feels like a working coastal village underneath the tourists. It has a stunning sun trap of a beach (slather on the sunscreen).

The fishing boats pulled up on the beach are not there for decoration. Men still head out onto rough water before dawn. The fishmonger beside the beach smells unapologetically of salt and fresh catch and wet rope. You can buy seafood landed practically hours earlier and eat it while sitting on cold pebbles watching the tide roll in.
There are a few decent pubs that serve food in the village, a deli, bakery and one overpriced and underwhelming chippy.
Lyme Regis

Where Dinosaurs Meet Day Trippers
Lyme Regis is busy, rough around the edges in places and permanently smells faintly of chips, fudge and seaweed. And honestly, that is part of the charm. We absolutely loved spending beach hut days here, pottering around and nipping to and from our beach hut for the day.
You can spend half a day wandering in and out of bakeries and shops buying pasties and souvenirs you absolutely did not need. There are tourists everywhere carrying fossil hunting kits and buckets while fighting the wind on the Cobb.

The Cobb in The Cobb is the heart of Lyme Regis. This old stone harbour wall has faced centuries of storms from the Jurassic Coast and still feels wonderfully rugged and weathered. On wild days the sea crashes over it, while on calm evenings people sit watching fishing boats drift in and out. It is one of those places that feels timeless, salty and deeply tied to the character of the town.

The Greek grill near the seafront is exactly the kind of place you should head to if you fancy a change. Gyros, halloumi and authentic Greek street food. Perfect to scoff in your beach hut after being blasted by sun and sea air all afternoon.
Seaton

Unfashionable and Lovely Anyway
Seaton does not have the fashionable reputation of some nearby towns, but there is something oddly comforting about it. The seafront has that slightly faded British seaside feel but in a lovely way. Benches facing rough seas and a beach hut selling deep fried food, sandwiches, pop and ice cream.
The Seaton Tramway quietly rattling through the wetlands like time forgot it existed, is definitely worth a visit.
It feels nostalgic without trying too hard. Proper family days out. Wet coats drying in cafés. Children waving at the tram. Elderly couples riding the tram just because they always have.
Portland Bill

Wind, Waves and Portland Stone
Portland Bill feels harsher than the rest of the coast somehow. More exposed. More industrial and a little dreary in parts. The sea here looks genuinely dangerous when the weather turns.
The pale limestone from Isle of Portland has been used to build some of Britain’s most famous landmarks, including St Paul’s Cathedral, and gives the whole island a weathered, windswept feeling as though the landscape itself was carved from the sea.

Right at the end of Isle of Portland beside Portland Bill Lighthouse is The Lobster Pot, the sort of café that feels made for this coastline. I had a genuinely excellent and enormous prawn salad there, though the menu itself is mostly standard seaside café fare: burgers, baguettes, sandwiches and mugs of tea. Despite the name there is not actually any lobster on it, but the service is warm, quick and friendly, which somehow suits Portland perfectly.
That is the thing about this coastline really. It does not try to impress you. It just gets on with being itself. Messy. Weathered. Tough. Beautiful.
















































