It’s crazy how often this happens.
It’s a stunning yet treacherous stretch of coastline where cars and motorhomes are routinely hauled from the waves after becoming partially or fully submerged. Over the past four decades, local farmer Dafydd Davies says he has repeatedly deployed his John Deere tractor to rescue vehicles from the infamous Traeth y Graig Ddu (Black Rock Sands).
His dedication to saving stranded vehicles stems from his own harrowing experience 40 years ago. In 1980, whilst working on a new silage pit at his farm, he endured a horrific accident with a JCB bucket loader that left him trapped against a concrete septic tank.
“I lost my eye but I was very lucky I didn’t lose my life,” he told North Wales Live. The traumatic experience heightened his awareness of potential hazards and sparked a determination to give back to the community, including offering his land for air ambulance landings.
“That incident made me much more aware of risks – even now I can sense accidents about to happen. It also made me want to give something back to the community – I volunteered my land for air ambulance landings,” he said.
This sense of responsibility also led him nearly a decade ago to assume the role of beach guardian at the beach in Gwynedd, north-west Wales, one of the few beaches where driving is allowed. Extracting cars from the advancing tide or liberating them from soft dune sands has traditionally been a job for local farmers, and when the previous guardian retired, Dafydd enthusiastically volunteered.
Vehicle owners sometimes react swiftly enough that their cars and motorhomes can be rescued. However, on occasion, all Dafydd can manage is to recover the ruined vehicle to avoid an environmental disaster.
Sometimes, his wife Kathryn, a former nurse, takes the hit from such episodes, such as when a pink VW campervan was consumed in 2020. The van and its transporter, taken to the beach for a 1970s-themed photo session, were devoured by a rapidly advancing tide after becoming trapped in the sand.
“I always remember the date – September 14 – as it’s my wife’s birthday,” Dafydd recalled. “I’d booked a meal at a restaurant but my mobile rang and we had to go to the beach instead. I usually get there in 18 minutes but by the time we arrived, it was too late – the tide was coming in too fast. Instead, I drove the tractor to the restaurant, had a meal, then I went back to the beach. It was around 2am when I finally got home.”
The devastated owner, from Cheshire, put losses at £60,000.
During a typical summer, approximately six to 10 vehicles meet their fate on the Gwynedd beach. However, it’s believed up to 30 cars and motorhomes required rescue last year in 2025, as the beach is hugely popular and amongst the few where motorists can drive their vehicles onto the sand.
Locals are familiar with the unpredictable character of a shoreline whose tempting shallow waters are ideal for bathing and aquatic pursuits yet conceal a lurking danger for unsuspecting drivers. The very characteristic that renders the beach perfect for recreational activities – its gradual incline – also creates a hazard by allowing tides to rush in rapidly.
But visitors are less familiar with the dangers. And while there are plenty of warnings displayed on the beach regarding the possible dangers, they cannot be positioned where motorists typically park at low tide close to the waterline. Those who pay for parking are given a leaflet outlining tide schedules and beach safety guidance, including recommendations on parking and even details about weeverfish.
“But it’s human nature, they don’t read the leaflets or look at the signs, and they park where they want. If the tide is high in the morning, all the cars park higher up the beach and, if the sand is dry and soft, that’s when people need pulling from the dunes,” said Dafydd.
The problem intensifies when the tide retreats and the more compact sand tempts motorists to travel further out, only to be taken by surprise when the sea returns. “However when the tide is out and the sand is harder, that’s when people park further out. Before they know it, the sea is coming in.”
During sweltering weekends, you could see 1,000 cars or more scattered across the beach, as well as queues extending more than half a mile back into Morfa Bychan village, essentially transforming the beach into a vast improvised parking area. Last year, the council began shutting the beach gate at 8pm, theoretically reducing late-evening rescues, though this didn’t always work as intended.
One one occasion, Dafydd was preparing to attend a wedding reception: “We were dressed and just about to go out the door to a wedding party. I drove to the beach while my wife went to the party alone. A family from Birmingham were stuck on the beach. As they reported it quickly, I was able to save their car – they were very grateful – and I made it to the party by 9pm. Only once the clock ticks past 8pm during the summer can I finally relax.”
Recent years have introduced a new complication to Dafydd’s coastal rescue work: the growing number of electric vehicles (EVs) poses a significantly more difficult challenge than recovering conventional petrol cars.
“Electric vehicles are so much heavier because of their batteries,” he explained. “You take a basic Honda EV – it weights 2.2 tonnes. Not only do they sink further into the sand, it requires more power and traction to pull them out.”
Nevertheless, like numerous farmers, Dafydd feels he has a duty to support his local community. Some clear snow from roads, whilst others rescue motorists stranded by flooding.
“I enjoy it,” said Dafydd. “I like the idea of giving something back. My son, Owain, who works with me on the farm, has done a couple of beach jobs, which means I can now get away for a day if I need to. But not for too long – helping others gives me great satisfaction.”
