Latest news with #Aberdaron
Yahoo
6 days ago
- Yahoo
The utterly unique North Wales beach where only one group leaves negative reviews
It's one of the best known beaches in North Wales - famous for a unique feature. Traeth Porthor on the Llyn Peninsula is up there on the list of the best beaches in the country. Situated on the wilder north coast between Aberdaron and the increasingly popular Porth Iago the beach is famously known as 'Whistling Sands' in English. The reason behind this is the sounds the sand (sometimes) makes while people walk along. National Trust - who own the beach - say it is derived from the squeak or whistle emitted by the peculiar shaped sand particles being rubbed together when walked on in warm weather. READ MORE: Llandudno town centre hotel put up for sale READ MORE: 'Iconic' North Wales hotel sold to international investment group The sound can be made by stamping or sliding your feet on dry sand. According to Visit Wales it is one of only two beaches in Europe where people can experience this. (The other is Singing Sands Beach on the Isle of Eigg, Scotland) It does not squeak on demand as the conditions need to be right so don't be too disappointed if you miss out. The good news is that there is so much more to the beach than the noise it makes underfoot. It's a stunning spot on a peninsula with its fair share of glorious sandy bays. In addition it doesn't tend to get as busy as some others so people can usually find a decent stretch of sand for themselves. The coastal path can take walkers along the coastline in either direction with seals a common sight and dolphins as well from time to time. The area around the beach is a stronghold for birds like the Chough, Razorbills, Guillemots, Kittiwakes, Cormorants, Shags and Yellowhammers. In addition there's the remnants of a lime kiln on the path just off the beach. This is a glimpse into the past as Porthor was once a busy port, importing lime and coal. These type of beach kilns were generally used to convert limestone to quicklime by burning it, used for construction and to reduce soil acidity. In return it dispatched farm goods such as butter, cheese, eggs and poultry. Join the North Wales Live Whatsapp community now The water itself is obviously another pull - with clear blue waters on a sunny day. It doesn't have the large breakers you might get at Porth Neigwl (Hells Mouth) on the other side of the Llyn but there is the potential for bodyboarding or some surfing in the right conditions. There is even a very well rated cafe next to the beach for refreshments after the fresh air and activities have tired you out. The reviews are glowing and there is only one group that take issue with the beach - or rather one of the rules imposed. This is when it's worth mentioning the car park charges (£5) unless National Trust members and also the dog ban from April 1 to September 30. When it comes to the very many good and excellent reviews (260 out of 290 of the reviews on Tripadvisor) words that pop out are "gem", and "stunning". One recent review said: "We visited Porthor Beach recently and had a lovely time soaking in the natural beauty of the place. The beach itself is stunning – clean, peaceful, and set against a gorgeous backdrop of rolling hills. It's ideal for a relaxed day out, with crystal-clear water and soft, golden sand. "Despite its nickname 'Whistling Sands,' the sand wasn't whistling during our visit – maybe it depends on the weather or how dry the sand is. Still, it was a scenic and peaceful spot well worth the trip." Another said: "Beautiful, tucked away gem of a beach. Bit busy when we arrived,(late afternoon ), so would get there early morning next time. Stunning views, crystal clear turquoise water which is shallow till a long way out. "If this beach was on the Med it would be surrounded by tourist hotels. Would definitely go again." It is certainly well deserving of its 4.6 out of 5 rating on Tripadvisor. With the small minority who don't leave sparkling reviews there is a common theme. It is not so much the beach they don't like but the no dogs rule, with odd moans over the £5 parking fee. One angry reviewer said: "What is it with the National Trust and dogs? We used to be members but when we got a pooch we discovered there are restrictions and no go areas at nearly all NT sites. Most dog owners are responsible and clean up after their pups but it seems none of us are to be trusted! Really disappointing to drive all the way to the car park to be told dogs are not allowed on most of the beach." Another added: "Sadly you can't take your dog on the beach, no matter how well behaved they are, so we had a wasted trip. A real shame as the beach is long enough to allow them at the far end." One dog owner said: "£5 to park, irrespective of how long! Fine for a day out, but extortionate for a walk down the road to the beach and back (because info boards in the car park say vaguely 'dogs welcome except for summer months' and then you get to the beach where another board tells you 'summer' is April 1st - 30th September and that if you contravene the dog ban you risk a £1000 fine). The beach itself is beautiful, but so is every other beach on the Llŷn Peninsula and from my experience, all the others are much less hostile to dog owners. I suggest NT update the board in the car park and give me my £5 back." However for most this location is a beach paradise and if you're lucky you may experience the magic squeaks. Sign up for the North Wales Live newsletter sent twice daily to your inbox
Telegraph
12-07-2025
- Automotive
- Telegraph
Why I hate my husband's new electric BMW
The small Welsh fishing village of Aberdaron is, to borrow the language of a thousand tea towel slogans, 'my happy place'. Slumbering on sweeping sands below soaring grassy cliffs, the wild beauty of the destination more than makes up for the fact that it's a three-hour drive from our north Manchester home. I've been to this gorgeous part of North Wales many times. But our latest trip was to mark something of a milestone, since it would also be the first time my husband, Martin, would be giving his new car – a BMW iX40, his very first electric motor – a proper chance to stretch its legs. It doesn't overstate the case to say that Martin is obsessed with this car. With uncharacteristic poetry he rhapsodises that it is a 'thing of great beauty', raving about the cathedral quiet of the electric propulsion, the smart minimalism of the lounge-like interior and – oh! – the elegance of its curves. However, our journey to Aberdaron would prove to be a turning point in our (well, my) relationship with his shiny new baby. For barely had we left Manchester than I found myself yelling for him to pull in (or for the purposes of accurate reportage, I actually shrieked 'Stop this bloody thing now before I throw up all over your f---ing thing of beauty'). Here, you see, is the rub: the BMW iX40 may well be 2.5 tons of sleek, intuitive technology and electrified innovation, but the damn thing also makes me feel as sick as a dog whenever I'm a passenger. And on this particular trip I'd had enough, vowing not to step back inside its plush interior unless I was behind the wheel. Only driving the car myself seems to mitigate the nausea it causes – but then only just. Even when I'm driving it, everything about this car seems geared to make the world spin, from the bouncing holographic heads-up display (HUD) information projected on the windscreen to the fact that I can feel every little imperfection in the road. Whatever happened to ride comfort? And don't get me started on the stupid faux acceleration noise created by film composer Hans Zimmer, who collaborated with BMW to create the 'soundscape' for its range of electric vehicles. However, it's far worse when I'm a passenger. For all the car's aesthetic appearance the jerky stop/start nature of the drive makes the bile rise as my stomach feels like a washing machine on final spin. My body simply cannot tolerate being driven around in it. Like a defensive showbiz parent, Martin refuses to hear a bad word about his car, casting around for more environmental reasons to explain my reaction. He talks of unpredictable speed limits – a real zinger in Wales, where 20mph is the default. He also says that the problem could be me (admittedly I've never been a great traveller). Yet my queasy reaction is hardly a singular experience. Electric cars may be soaring in popularity, with BMW alone selling approximately 33,785 all-electric vehicles in the UK, representing 26.9 per cent of its total sales. But studies are increasingly pointing to the fact that EVs are far more likely to induce motion sickness than petrol or diesel-powered cars. One piece of research last year concluded that there were strong correlations between motion sickness severity and the seat vibrations of electric vehicles, while a 2020 study found that the lack of combustion engine noise in an EV might be a major contributing factor to increased feelings of carsickness (Zimmer is not on my Christmas card list). Regenerative braking – a feature that converts a car's momentum into electricity when slowing – has also been flagged as a culprit, according to a study published last year in the International Journal of Human-Computer Interaction. All of which seems like a spectacular own goal for electric cars – not least at the luxury end of the market. Surely £60,000 of cutting-edge technology should be an enjoyable ride, not one to be dreaded. To be fair, I'm not a car person. Having hung on to a lumbering Volvo XC90 for 16 years – hitherto the family workhorse – I've never really cared about what I drove or travelled in, as long as it got me from A to B. Which explains why I took so little interest when Martin said he was replacing his own car, a zippy Volvo V40 which I have now inherited, with a swankier model. Ironically Martin has never been a car person either, preferring to cycle whenever he has the chance. But he also works long hours running his own accountancy practice and decided one day, after nearly 40 years of hard graft, that the time had come to treat himself to something special (namely a BMW). Canny accountant that he is, he also recognised the tax advantages of going electric. The Government's green incentives made the iX40 not just beautiful but financially sensible. Admittedly I do feel guilty about my reaction to his car, which is his reward for decades of hard work. But my guilt doesn't change the fact that the BMW – with all its bells, whistles and orchestral flourishes – makes me feel wretched. How can something that's meant to be the last word in smart luxury motoring, and which can help save the planet, be so thoroughly awful? Environmental considerations aside, I could tolerate the other annoying quirks of life with an EV, not least hanging around a service station when we're only 30 miles from home because the battery is running low on charge. Or stewing over lousy motorway coffee as Martin merrily shares anecdotes with other EV drivers as they top up their cars' batteries. I just hate feeling sick. Moves are potentially afoot to redress the problem. A 2023 study in the journal Ergonomics explored the idea of incorporating a visual cueing system to help passengers anticipate motion and reduce sickness. But with four years remaining on the lease of the BMW, I seem to have little choice but to keep riding in (and occasionally yelling at) this marvel of modern engineering. Aberdaron may be my happy place, but my husband's EV is anything but.
