If the people here had no money, it'd be Poor Beach. If they loved bacon, it'd be Pork Beach. And if they were all drunk on wine, it'd be Port Beach. In fact it's probably all of the above, knowing the typical British holidaymaker. They eat Bacon, then they go Bacon themselves in the sun. Or, more often, the rain and grey clouds.
In the 1980s, when I was a tiny kid, my mother and her friend (the wife of a rival bicycle shop owner... my Dad also owned one) brought me here, to Porth just outside Newquay. They had bikes, and they took the bikes on the train. Down through Bristol, Newton Abbot, Par... eventually to Newquay and then we cycled to Porth.
We found this lovely campground and made some great memories, which usually involved my mother being drunk. But I remember the lovely town, the lovely windy hilly roads, the gorgeous beach, and the lovely racist British people we holidayed with.
Newquay remains one of my favourite places and I've been back here many times, but I haven't stayed at this campground since. I've just looked in on it many times, and it's smaller than it used to seem, but as lovely as ever. I highly recommend it to anyone wanting to camp down in Cornwall.
And this is review #1987 because that was roughly the year I first came here as a kid, give or take 5 years.
And luckily there are no naked people doing it on camera here, otherwise it'd be Porn Beach... and would be way more popular with a totally different crowd. read more
