I took the train from Colchester to Clacton on a bright morning, a journey that barely stretches to 25 minutes but feels like a clear shift in pace.
It’s also easily reachable from London in around an hour and a half, which helps explain its long-standing identity as a classic British seaside escape.
Like many coastal towns in Essex and beyond, Clacton has a history tied to holiday crowds, day-trippers, and the rise and fall of seaside tourism—but also, more recently, to headlines and online lists branding it unfairly as one of the “worst” towns in the UK.
It wasn’t my first visit, and I was aware of that reputation before arriving.
But stepping off the train and heading towards the centre, it quickly becomes obvious that labels like that don’t tell the full story.
Yes, like many seaside towns, it has experienced deprivation over the years and some visible signs of economic strain. But it also has something else - life, especially in the summer months, when it feels like the town switches back on.
From the station, it’s only a short walk to the seafront, and I made my way towards the open stretch of coast dominated by the iconic Clacton Pier, often described as the largest pier in Europe.
The walk itself is part of the appeal—wide pavements, bursts of greenery, and well-kept gardens running parallel to the beach.
It has that familiar seaside rhythm: ice cream stalls, laughter, gulls overhead, and the constant sound of waves meeting shingle.
The seafront gardens are a highlight.
They’re tidy, colourful, and surprisingly calm, considering the crowds just a few metres away.
I took a slow stroll along the promenade where arcades, pubs, and casual restaurants line the centre, offering entertainment for all ages.
Families were already settling in for the day, children darting between amusements while older visitors found benches in the sun.
I also stopped at the Clacton Art Gallery, which felt like an underrated gem tucked slightly away from the louder parts of the town.
It added a quieter, more reflective layer to the visit—something you might not expect from a place often reduced to stereotypes. The space felt local, unpretentious, and genuinely welcoming.
After that, I headed back to the beach and sat down with a few snacks, just watching the day unfold.
It’s easy to forget how simple that can be: sitting on a British beach, watching families enjoy the same stretch of coast, people paddling in the shallows, others reading or chatting, all sharing the same unhurried atmosphere.
There’s a certain ease to it that doesn’t always get captured in the town’s reputation.
Later, I made my way to the Martello Lounge on the seafront.
It has a great position overlooking the beach and pier, with both indoor and outdoor seating and a stylish, relaxed interior that feels more “city café” than traditional seaside eatery.
I had a lamb shawarma flatbread with a coke, and it genuinely hit the spot—fresh, well-seasoned, and exactly what you want after a long walk along the coast. It came recommended by a few people I’d met during the day, and it lived up to it.
Refreshed, I headed back down to the beach and eventually went for a swim in the sea.
The public facilities nearby, including showers, make it easy to spend the whole day without needing to head far inland.
What stood out most, though, was the atmosphere—locals and visitors mixing naturally, conversations between strangers, and a general friendliness that felt effortless rather than forced.
I also wandered into a couple of charity shops inland from the seafront, picking up a few small things.
There aren’t as many big-name shops as you might find in larger towns, but there is still enough variety to make a casual browse worthwhile.
It feels like a place that functions on its own scale, not trying to compete with larger urban centres, but instead offering something more relaxed and grounded.
By the time I made my way back to Clacton railway station for the return journey, the sun was starting to soften over the sea.
I didn’t leave with the impression of having visited the “worst” seaside town.
If anything, I left wondering how such labels stick so easily, and how rarely they reflect what a place actually feels like on the ground.
Clacton might not be perfect, and it doesn’t try to be.
But on a summer day, with its pier stretching into the sea, its gardens in bloom, and its easy-going seaside rhythm, it feels less like a place to dismiss and more like one worth spending time in.
Share