‘Newquay is on the up’: The Cornish resort shedding its party town image

From the bath in my hotel room, I can see – in the folds of the hills outside – the caravan park where we had our first lads’ holiday, back in the early 2000s.

It was a week of under-age drinking, all-night clubbing, and bed sharing in shabby caravans that stank of cheap lager, hash, and unwashed boys. Newquay was a party town back then, a domestic 18-to-30s resort for those who couldn’t afford, or weren’t inclined, to follow the herd down to Greece or “Shagaluf”.

Nostalgia washes over me with the bath-water at the memory. I look around at the posh soaps and fluffy towels – at the steam forming on the window, symbolically blurring my portal into the past – and lament my ascent to middle age. I have grown up. But then so has Newquay.

Like the wayward mate who settled down, the Cornish town has cleaned up its act. The caravan parks long ago stopped accepting bookings from groups of young lads and lasses, while the police cracked down on under-age boozing and inebriation.

All but one of the nightclubs have closed, most recently Berties, which shut suddenly in November.

Many of the old pubs have gone, too, as I discover while chasing memories around town. The Newquay Arms, an old haunt, is now the Concho Lounge, a trendy café that does brunch.

“This is the only proper boozer left now,” sighs one gnarled local, as he ruefully exhales cigarette smoke outside the Red Lion. “They call it progress.”

The town has certainly changed. While many of the old pubs have gone, bougie coffee shops – those bellwethers of seaside gentrification – are thriving. There’s even an outpost of the popular east London bakery Pavilion, plus a trendy new cocktail and tapas joint, the Clover Club.

It quickly becomes apparent that the memories I have of Newquay are the ones locals are keen to forget.

“The party groups are gone, thankfully,” says Newquay-born Sharman Treglown, selling me fudge in the Cornish Cream gift shop. “We’re getting families and older people back. A lot of the shops that closed are being refitted, new people are moving in. Newquay is changing; we’re on the up.”

Investment is indeed flooding in. The iconic Hotel Victoria, which shut abruptly in November, has been sold for an undisclosed sum to the Southampton-based Nicolas James Group.

It’s promised to restore the grand old dame to her former glory and has recent form: the group just spent £27 million transforming Bournemouth’s old Savoy Hotel into the town’s first five-star property, The Nici.

Farther along the clifftop, new luxury apartments rise from the rubble of old guest houses. There’s an anonymous feel to the cladded flats. Many reportedly lie empty for much of the year, Cornwall of course being a paradise for second homers, yet one of the poorest regions in northern Europe.

“Locals can’t afford them, which is a shame,” says Treglown. “At least people are living in them some of the year.”

One clifftop development in particular has been vociferously opposed. More than 700 people objected to plans to demolish the derelict Hotel Bristol, built in 1927, and replace it with 176 “eyesore” flats and a 40-bedroom hotel. Despite the outrage, Cornwall council signed the plans off behind closed doors.

“It’s a classic hotel, part of Newquay’s heritage,” says Joanna Kenny, a Newquay town councillor, who opposed the plans. “This shouldn’t be happening. It shouldn’t have been rubber-stamped.”

When asked about the demolition of Hotel Bristol, Cornwall council told The Telegraph that it “followed all the normal and correct” processes.

But the business model that hotels such as the Bristol were built on has been upended by Airbnb and the rise of remote working, which has blurred the boundary between business and pleasure. SeaSpace, where I’m staying, understands that trend.

Cornwall’s first aparthotel, it opened last October, bringing Miami vibes (but not the weather) to north Newquay. Occupying the old Sands Resort, the property is fresh from an £11 million refurbishment, and has 56 apartments and studios (from £100 per night), most of which look out to sea. There’s an Art Deco pool, a gym, restaurant and café, plus a playroom for kids.

“There’s nothing like this in Newquay,” coos Josh Ellery, a senior house manager, showing me around.

SeaSpace is surprisingly busy for a midwinter weekday. In the café, remote workers tap laptops over flat whites and croissants, while neoprene-clad retirees drink tea after a walk along the coast.

I leave them to it, driving over to east Newquay, where an entire new town is taking shape on land owned by Prince William. Nansledan, with its neat rows of pastel-coloured cottages, is like a film set. The place feels a bit phoney but that’s because it is: the brand-new Duchy estate is built in the old Victorian style championed by King Charles.

Nansledan’s stout townhouses are off-limits to second-home owners, and a third of them are affordable. Plans are also afoot to build temporary accommodation on the estate for people experiencing homelessness, which has independent shops, a café and a primary school.

“You get your odd Karen here, but it’s a good community,” says Leigh Mayor, who runs Nansledan general store. “They’ve done a great job of the place.”

It’s far from finished. Work will continue for another 20 years. When completed, the estate will have 4,000 homes, making it the largest newbuild development in Cornwall.

Residents are a mix of local folk and “blow-ins”. “We get Londoners and a lot of Midlanders for some reason,” says Mayor, who’s from Wales.

Back in Newquay, passengers gather on the platform at the station. Rail connectivity is a big issue for the town, but not for much longer. Autumn will see the launch of hourly trains (they currently run every two hours) between Newquay and Par, where passengers can catch connecting trains to London. It’ll be a big improvement for a town that feels out on a limb.

But isn’t that the appeal of Newquay? You have to be committed to make the journey. Some never return.

“I came for a summer,” says barista Leonie Brooks, from the Peak District, pouring me a flat white in Pavilion. “That was three years ago.”

Why did she stay? “It’s friendly, it has a nice vibe. There are good walks and it’s nice to be by the sea,” she says. “I think people prioritise mental health more here.”

Iris Little, whom I find clutching a cuppa on the clifftop as the surf barrels in, agrees. In fact, she’s hoping to ride Newquay’s wellness wave by opening a sauna on the wondrously named Lusty Glaze beach.

“Newquay doesn’t have this mad party vibe anymore,” says Little, who’s from Plymouth, but has been coming here all her life. “It’s more about the sea and the surfing, the outdoors.”

A quieter life. Simpler pleasures. We all slow down eventually.