Scoops by the Sea: Planning a UK Beach Break Around Artisan Ice Cream

If you’re the sort of person who plans holidays around food (guilty), a UK seaside artisan ice cream trail is as good an excuse as any to get sand in your shoes. I’ve slowly realised my ideal beach break looks less like surfing at dawn and more like timing the tide with the opening hours of small-batch ice cream shops. UK seaside artisan ice cream has quietly gone from “Mr Whippy with delusions of grandeur” to genuinely interesting stuff made by people who can monologue about vanilla pods like wine buffs.

This isn’t a grand tour of every coastal cone in Britain; it’s the places where I’ve actually queued, dripped, dropped a scoop in the sand, and gone back for seconds anyway.

Whitby, North Yorkshire: Salt, Smoke and Slightly Melted Scoops

The first time I went to Whitby for ice cream, I made the rookie mistake of arriving on a hot Saturday at lunchtime, parking god-knows-where up a hill, and joining a queue that looked like it might end in ferry tickets. It was, in fact, for Trillo’s of Whitby, right on the harbourside.

Trillo’s does the full UK seaside artisan ice cream thing but with an unapologetically traditional streak: proper dairy, nothing too performatively “concept”, and the sort of vanilla that makes you realise how lazy most vanilla is. The queue moved faster than it looked, roughly ten minutes, and a double scoop in a waffle cone came in just under £4.50 last time I was there.

I went for sea salted caramel and rhubarb crumble. The rhubarb tasted like someone had actually chopped the stuff that morning rather than waved an artificial flavour bottle at it. I ate it while leaning on the railings, trying not to drop sticky bits on passing dogs and failing.

What surprised me was how well ice cream works with Whitby’s slightly dark, gothic edges. You’ve got the Abbey ruin glowering above, the smell of the kippers drifting over from Fortune’s Smokehouse, and there you are, licking pistachio like a child. It takes the intensity down a notch.

Worth Knowing Before You Go – Whitby

• Getting there: By train, you’ll usually change at Middlesbrough. The station’s a five-minute flat walk to the harbour. By car, be ready for queues into town on sunny weekends; the Marina Front car park is around £2.20 an hour and fills quickly.
• Best time: Late afternoon once the day-tripper crowds thin a bit. Just before the chippy rush. On cooler days the queue for ice cream is noticeably shorter.
• Cost: Expect around £3.50–£5 for a two-scoop cone at Trillo’s. A family of four doing the full “cone plus flake plus toppings” routine will hit £20 without really trying.
• Thing most people miss: Take your ice cream over the swing bridge and up the 199 steps towards the Abbey. You get a view back over the red roofs and harbour that’s much better than standing on the main quay dodging prams. Just hold your cone firmly – those steps tilt slightly and so do you.

One more thing: if you’re parking on the west side, don’t ignore the tiny “steep bank” warning signs on the side streets. I once watched a man in a people carrier discover what “steep” means in Whitby. His handbrake held. Just.

Aberystwyth, Ceredigion: Academic, Windy, and Seriously Good Gelato

Aberystwyth isn’t the first place that springs to mind when you think “beach holiday”. It’s more “students in big jumpers, seafront in winter storms, and that slightly Soviet concrete on the prom”. But hidden in amongst all that is Gelli Aur Gelato on Pier Street, a short shuffle from the beach.

They’re making small-batch gelato with local milk, and the flavours rotate, so you can’t bank on your favourite being there. I’ve had a lime and basil that tasted like a cocktail without the regrettable decisions, and a dark chocolate that required a sit down on the seafront bench to process. A tub with two flavours runs about £4.20; cones a little less.

Aber’s seafront has a strange charm. There’s the Victorian pier with the arcade at the end (sticky carpets, but in a comforting way), rainbow-painted houses, and that famous habit of students “kicking the bar” – literally kicking the railings at the north end of the prom. I once ate a gelato while watching half a rugby team sprint up, boot the bar, and jog off again like it was completely normal.

Ice cream in Aberystwyth is a slightly wind-battered experience. The Irish Sea has opinions. You need to hunch over the tub, spoon at an angle, and accept that your hair will blow into it at least once.

Worth Knowing Before You Go – Aberystwyth

• Getting there: Aberystwyth is on a branch line from Shrewsbury and Birmingham. The train ride through mid-Wales is genuinely lovely on a clear day. By car, the A44 from the English side is scenic but bendy – allow more time than the sat-nav promises.
• Best time: Early evening in summer. Students are half in the pubs, half on the beach, and you get that nice “town exhaling” feel. Outside of term time, it’s noticeably quieter and queues at Gelli Aur are minimal.
• Cost: Parking along the north promenade is around £1.10 per hour. Gelli Aur gelato tubs and cones hover around the £4–£5 mark if you go for multiple flavours.
• Thing most people miss: Take your ice cream and walk up to the slightly peeling bandstand halfway up the prom. It’s not glamorous, but the view back along the curve of the bay framed by hills is properly satisfying, and you can huddle under the roof if the rain suddenly joins in.

Aberystwyth is also one of the few place I’ve seen someone eat ice cream in the rain without batting an eyelid. Once you’ve committed, you commit.

St Andrews, Fife: Where Students and Golfers Agree on One Thing

St Andrews is golf, obviously, and gowns swishing about in the wind. But if you ask anyone who’s actually lived or studied there what they miss, a lot of them will say: Janetta’s.

Janetta’s Gelateria on South Street is one of those multi-generation places that somehow hasn’t turned into a caricature. The queue can be ridiculous on warm days – out the door, around the side, students in hoodies behind Japanese tourists in polo shirts – but it moves. A two-scoop cone is about £4.50, give or take what extras you add.

Flavours are both classic and slightly bonkers. I’ve had a good old rum and raisin there that tasted properly boozy, and a Scottish tablet flavour that should by rights be illegal. There’s usually a vegan option that isn’t just “sorbet of sadness”, too.

Here’s the thing with St Andrews: ice cream is basically an outdoor sport. The beaches are huge – West Sands is the one from Chariots of Fire – and the wind has an attitude. I once tried to eat a triple scoop (ambitious, I know) while walking onto West Sands. By the time I’d got onto the actual sand, one scoop had performed a slow, tragic slide. The dog looked delighted.

Worth Knowing Before You Go – St Andrews

• Getting there: No train station in town. You’ll want to get to Leuchars (on the Edinburgh–Dundee line) and then hop on the regular bus into St Andrews, about 15 minutes. Driving in, expect limited central parking; on-street spaces are around £1.60 an hour.
• Best time: Late morning is good – the day trippers haven’t all arrived, and students are still in bed. Summer weekends get packed, especially if there’s a tournament or graduation on.
• Cost: Expect £4–£5 for a good-sized cone at Janetta’s. They also do tubs to take home, which are dangerous if you’ve booked self-catering.
• Thing most people miss: Instead of heading straight to West Sands, take your ice cream down to the tiny harbour. There’s a rickety pier you can walk out on, and you get a sideways view of town with the cathedral ruins behind it that feels oddly peaceful.

Also, if you’re driving out, the road past the Old Course can jam up without warning. Build in a bit of “ice cream delay” if you’ve got a tee time or a train to catch.

Scarborough, North Yorkshire: Two Bays, One Very Serious Gelato Habit

Scarborough is a bit of a love-it-or-argue-about-it kind of place. Long seafront, funfair noises, donkeys, that constant smell of frying. But dig a little and you get pockets of genuinely good UK seaside artisan ice cream.

On the South Bay side, not far from the harbour, you’ll find The Harbour Bar. It’s an original 1940s ice cream parlour with yellow and red formica that looks like it should be in a film. They make their own ice cream on site, and unlike some “retro” places, the retro-ness isn’t an act. A classic ice cream sundae is around £6.50, and a cone will set you back about £3.50.

They do proper knickerbocker glories, banana splits, the lot. I watched a teenager at the next table tackle something with at least four scoops, whipped cream, sauce and wafers. The expression was somewhere between bliss and mild fear.

Scarborough has that split personality of South Bay (noisy, arcades, queues for doughnuts) and North Bay (quieter, more open, a Peasholm Park detour if you like slightly surreal boating lakes and occasional mock naval battles). There’s a smaller ice cream hut near the North Bay chalets that does locally made stuff; not as fancy as Harbour Bar, but less faff and an easy grab after a walk.

Worth Knowing Before You Go – Scarborough

• Getting there: Direct trains from York and Leeds will drop you near the town centre; it’s a downhill ten-minute walk to South Bay. By car, the Marine Drive around the headland links the two bays and charges about £2 for two hours parking in some stretches.
• Best time: Early evening once the day-trippers start heading off. The light over the castle ruins is lovely, and Harbour Bar stays open later in summer.
• Cost: Expect standard seaside prices for parking (£2–£3 per hour near the front). Harbour Bar is reasonable for the quality and portion size, but sundaes add up.
• Thing most people miss: Take your cone from South Bay up the cliff path towards the castle, rather than the busy main road. You get a view back over the funfair and harbour that makes the noise feel oddly distant.

I’ll be honest: Scarborough on a grey, windy weekday can feel a bit worn around the edges. That’s also exactly when it’s easiest to get a booth in Harbour Bar and linger with a hot coffee and a scoop on the side, listening to locals discuss whose cousin’s buying which chip shop.

Tenby, Pembrokeshire: Harbour Views and Messy Waffles

Tenby is one of those towns that looks like someone’s dialled up the saturation: coloured houses around the harbour, bright boats, serious sand. It also does a decent line in UK seaside artisan ice cream.

On a recent trip I made a beeline for Loafley Bakery & Deli on Upper Frog Street, mostly because I’d been promised good bread. What I hadn’t clocked was their little ice cream hatch in summer, doing small-run flavours in collaboration with a local producer. I had a scoop of honeycomb that tasted like someone had smashed up a Crunchie bar and decided to behave like an adult about it.

Down near the harbour there’s also Caffi Pura, which leans into gelato, waffles, and the “we could share, but we won’t” philosophy. A gelato waffle with two scoops and toppings was around £7 last time I cracked and ordered one. I did then need to walk the entire length of the South Beach to balance it out, which almost worked.

Worth Knowing Before You Go – Tenby

• Getting there: Tenby has its own little train station on the Swansea–Pembroke Dock line. It’s a five-minute walk downhill to town. Driving in, multi-storey parking at the multi-storey on Upper Park Road is about £1 an hour and saves circling the narrow central streets.
• Best time: Shoulder season – late spring or early autumn – is lovely. In high summer the town can feel rammed by midday, so aim for a morning ice cream and a late-afternoon top-up.
• Cost: Artisan scoops in Tenby hover around £3.50–£4.50, more with fancy waffles and toppings. Harbour-view cafés tend to be a little pricier.
• Thing most people miss: Take your cone through the little archway by the harbour and up onto Castle Hill. The path curls around with views of both North and South Beach, and there are enough benches to sit and sort your melting situation in peace.

Parking warning: those “residents only” zones really are enforced. I learnt that the hard way a few years back and paid for my ice cream twice – once in the shop and once in the form of a neat yellow envelope on the windscreen.

A Quick Word on Strategy (So You Don’t Just Eat Sugar All Day)

If you’re planning a whole trip around UK seaside artisan ice cream, a tiny bit of structure helps. Not a spreadsheet, just some loose rules.

• One big ice cream experience per day. A massive sundae, or a fancy waffle, or the most decadent cone you can find. Then keep any extras small and simple.
• Walk between scoops. Even a half-hour clifftop or prom walk changes how you feel. Beaches like West Sands in St Andrews or South Beach in Tenby are perfect for this “I’m absolutely fine, my legs work” fiction.
• Savour the odd flavours, go classic later. Try the basil, lavender, goat’s milk and whatever else earlier in the day when you’re less tired and more patient. By the time the sun’s going down, a really good vanilla or chocolate eaten slowly can be oddly satisfying.
• Share occasionally. I say this as someone who has proudly failed at sharing dessert for most of my adult life. But with very sweet or experimental stuff, two spoons in one tub is less of a gamble.

Also, carry wet wipes. Artisanal or not, ice cream on a windy beach has a way of migrating onto wrists, bags, dogs, small children and, if you’re me, the car keys.

Why It’s Worth Planning Around Ice Cream At All

Planning a UK seaside break around artisan ice cream sounds daft until you actually do it. It slows you down. You end up in back streets looking for little gelato shops in Aberystwyth instead of just marching from car park to beach. You find yourself leaning against a harbour wall in Whitby, or sitting on a sea wall in Scarborough watching gulls plot crimes, because you need two hands to deal with a precarious triple scoop.

And you get these tiny, sharp, memorable details: the clang of the arcade behind you while you spoon up the last of a sundae at Harbour Bar, the sound of the sea under the pier in Aber, the way Tenby’s coloured houses look even brighter when you’re trying to stop raspberry ripple hitting your T-shirt.

You don’t have to make it a grand project. Pick a coastline, pick one or two proper UK seaside artisan ice cream spots, and let them be the anchor points. Fill in the gaps with whatever your version of a good day is: long walks, daft arcade games, watching the RNLI launch, or just sitting on a bench with your feet dangling and the taste of good dairy and sea salt in the air.

Just don’t blame me if you come home with sand in your shoes, photos full of half-eaten cones, and a slightly raised standard for what ice cream should taste like.