I’ll never forget the drive up to Sandsend last autumn – the leaves turning that gorgeous coppery gold along the A171, with the North Sea peeking out every so often like it was teasing us. Me and my partner had been buzzing with anticipation for weeks, dreaming of cosy nights in with the waves crashing outside. But typical me, I took a wrong turn just past Whitby, ending up in some narrow lane that had me white-knuckling the wheel as branches scraped the car. A right faff, but we laughed it off, blaming it on my dodgy sat-nav skills. By the time we rolled into the village, the late afternoon sun was dipping low, painting everything in that magical amber light that makes autumn feel like a proper treat.

Pulling up to our studio-style spot – this compact, luxurious little retreat right opposite Sandsend Beach, just 50 metres from the sand – we were gobsmacked. First impressions? Spot on. It’s the perfect cosy base for a couple like us, all sleek and inviting without being over-the-top. Stepping inside felt like slipping into a warm hug after the chill sea breeze. We dumped the bags and dashed straight out for a sunset wander along the golden stretch of beach. Autumn’s softer light turned the waves into this shimmering silver ribbon, and the air had that crisp, salty bite that clears your head in seconds. No summer crowds, just us and a few dog-walkers, with the tide whooshing in gently.

The season shaped every minute of it. Mornings started with steaming mugs of tea on the little balcony, watching mist roll off the sea as the sun burned through – pure poetry, that. We’d stroll the sands, kicking through piles of seaweed and the odd crab shell, then follow the Cleveland Way path towards Whitby, just two miles along the coast. The autumn colours on the cliffs were stunning, russet ferns and bracken glowing against the grey-blue sky. Whitby’s abbey ruins loomed dramatically up on the headland, looking even more gothic in the moody weather – we timed it for a blustery day, hoods up, feeling like extras in a Brontë novel. The harbour was buzzing but not heaving, perfect for fish and chips wrapped in paper, eaten on a bench with the gulls squawking overhead.

Sandsend’s food scene was a highlight, all within 150 metres – we hit the cafés for hearty breakfasts of bacon butties and local sausage, then pubs for warming ales and seafood platters as the evenings drew in early. One night, we tried this cracking crab linguine at a spot down the road; the freshness hit different in autumn, when everything feels earthier. A quick jaunt to Runswick Bay, four and a half miles away, gave us sweeping empty beaches backed by those sheer cliffs, ideal for a windswept hike with thermos flasks of soup.

Looking back, it was a gentle nudge to slow down. In the rush of life, I forget how autumn strips things back – no distractions, just the rhythm of the tides and that fresh sea air filling your lungs. Made me reflect on how a simple seaside bolt-hole like this can recharge you proper. If you’re after coastal bliss without the summer scrum, head to Sandsend in the fall. You won’t regret it.