wintry

It’s been a while since I’ve struggled into damp neoprene of a morning. It’s the second day of a wintry weekend in Croyde, north-west Devon; I’m stiff from an hour in the sea the previous afternoon, and the upper part of the super-thick wetsuit won’t budge past my elbows. Together, my husband, Mark, and I jiggle and pull and yank it over my limbs. Finally, five minutes later, I am in a silver-blue sea, entirely empty, save for us. White-crested waves roll in, broiling and foaming, rocketing us forward towards the empty swathe of sand. For once there are no other boarders to dodge, no surfers whisking past: it’s exhilarating, extraordinary and … really rather cold.

Croyde has long been a family favourite, but visiting in November does feel a bit of a gamble. It has a reputation as something of a ghost town in the off-season, with a large number of second homes and rentals that stay dark from October to April. But when an unexpected email landed from Endless Summer Beach House offering a 20% discount on winter stays, it seemed the ideal 30th birthday treat for my nephew, Ben. So, together with his girlfriend, Tasha, best mate, Rob, and my sister Caroline, we decided to take the plunge and find out what off-season Croyde is actually like.

When Mark and I arrive, the sky is unexpectedly blue, and we pull on our wetsuits and head straight for the sea. One of the joys of Croyde is that it doesn’t really change: the dunes that separate the beach from the village are strictly protected, saving both from the development that has scarred nearby resorts such as Westward Ho! and Woolacombe. Instead, the fields that flank the dunes are alive with rabbits grazing quietly, scampering away in white-tailed flashes as we pass.

At first, it feels strange to find the beach so deserted, but seeing it free of windbreaks, ballgames and pop-up tents renders its raw, natural beauty even more dramatic. It’s no wonder the place gets overrun in the summer months, when the sea froths with hundreds of bodyboarders and surfers, red and yellow lifeguard flags billowing in the breeze. Today there is nothing but sky and sea: a jagged patch of blue above the long curve of Hartland Point, a curtain of misty rain slowly dissipating Lundy island into the flint-grey wash of the ocean.

Later, when I nip into the village to pick up some bread, the narrow main street is almost as deserted as the beach. The Saltrock surfwear shop is open, as is The Hub, beloved by Ben for its lemon crunch ice-cream (and all of us for the pasties). The Post Office shows distinct signs of life, as does The Thatch pub, but otherwise most places are closed until spring. As I stroll back, I think about how it takes 15 minutes to queue for an ice-cream in summer, with the Post Office out of anything fresh by about 9.30am.

Not everything is shrouded in silence. When we head to The Thatch for dinner on Friday night, the place is packed and buzzy (I had feared it might just be us), although I suspect almost everyone else is local. As ever, the food is fantastic: crisp salt and pepper squid and a Balinese seafood curry, tangy with lemongrass and galangal, served with a heap of coconut sambal that adds up to the best dish I’ve eaten out all year. The boys find room for banoffee pie and apple tart.

There are plenty of other signs of life, too. On Saturday, we head to Braunton (15 minutes’ drive) for the annual firework display, heading down pretty lanes we didn’t even know existed – we never usually get much further than the car park and the Co-op. It’s lovely to get a sense of the place as it really is, with all the flummery and frenetic pace of summer stripped away. On the walk to the beach, the few people we pass are smiley and friendly – a shared delight at having Croyde’s gorgeous dunes and coastline pretty much to ourselves.

Coming away out of season has other benefits too: we don’t expect good weather, so a sunny Saturday is an absolute boon. When it rains all day Sunday, we pull on wet weather gear and stride out around Baggy Point, where the sea – now a palette of steel, platinum and foaming white – is just as spectacular as under blue skies. Once it’s dark, we play board-games, watch old films, eat hearty curries and bolognese – with no squabbling over why the barbecue won’t light and whether the sausages are cooked through.

The problem with tagging places such as Croyde as “ghost towns” in the off-season is that it deters people from visiting – the very thing our seaside resorts need most. The village was quiet, but far from dead – and, frankly, if you go with a group, you make your own atmosphere anyway. By the time we were packing the cars on Monday lunchtime (another off-season bonus is that accommodation owners are often more flexible about arrival and departure times), we were already talking about booking a return visit next November. Some might call Croyde a ghost town, but it had all the spirit we needed for an early winter break.

Endless Summer Beach House, sleeps 10, from £920 for a three-night break. For a 15% discount on four-night stays or longer, until March 2026, use the code EndlessSummer15