After seven brilliant quirky stays in 2025, I’m back for more, beginning 2026 with a winter weekend at Bournemouth Beach Lodges, where I got to sleep in an actual beach hut on the south coast of England.
January’s quirky stay finally let me sleep somewhere I’ve daydreamed about for years: in a beach hut. I realise that’s an unusual daydream, but there it is. And while most beach huts you see lined up along British coastlines are strictly daytime affairs, I’ve always wondered whether it was possible to actually stay overnight in one.
Given how long I’ve wanted to do this, you’d be forgiven for assuming it was a meticulously planned escapade. Alas, no. This particular quirky stay was booked with less than ten days to spare – and honestly, why not?! Sometimes the best adventures are the ones you don’t overthink.
What began as a spontaneous decision to pair a visit to see a friend with a little adventure turned into three restorative nights at Bournemouth Beach Lodges, and it was an unexpectedly perfect way to begin 2026. Tucked just along from Boscombe Pier, my wooden hut offered far more comfort than I’d imagined.
It was a stay full of ands – calm and wild, ordinary and unforgettable. My days were a combination of friendship and solitude: being out and staying in. There was even a bracing sea dip, because when the ocean is practically your front garden, resisting feels impossible.
Watch the Quirky Stay Video…
If you want to see what this little winter escape actually looked like, I filmed the whole thing – waves, swim, storms, frosty mornings, power cut and all. There’s also an alarming amount of footage revealing just how much tea I get through before 10am, but we’ll gloss over that. And if I may, please do like the video if you enjoy it, just to let me know.
Read all my quirky stay journals. Watch all my quirky stay videos.
Quirky Stays 08 | A Beach Hut by the Sea
Bournemouth Beach Lodges sit in that sweet spot between seaside nostalgia and modern comfort. And honestly, thank goodness. I would absolutely have spent one whimsical summer night in one of those rickety, peeling beach huts you see dotted along the coast. But three nights in the depths of January? That’s a different story. These lodges give you the beach‑hut fantasy without the draughts, splinters, or existential chill.
Technically they’re in Boscombe, with Boscombe Pier just a short wander away and Bournemouth Pier a little further along the bay. In winter, the promenade has a quiet, familiar charm: pastel huts, wide skies, and a crisp sea air that wakes you up from the inside out. The coastline here feels like a childhood memory and a grown‑up retreat at the same time.
The lodges sit at the bottom of the cliff by the Manor Steps Zig Zag, a long, steady slope that you’ll definitely feel on the way back up. There’s no dedicated car park, but free overnight parking along the clifftop was easy, and I had no trouble finding a space. You can drive down at certain times, but I didn’t bother; I just packed sensibly and carried everything in one (heart-rate-raising) trip.
From the outside, the lodges look like beach huts that have been gently supersized; twice, maybe three times the footprint of the classic kind. Each one has a generous deck with deck chairs and bifold doors that blur the line between indoors and out. Step inside and the illusion continues: it’s unmistakably a beach hut, just… elevated. Warmer, roomier, and far more comfortable than you’d ever expect from something perched right above the sand.
Seaside Vibes Inside and Out
Inside, the lodge had everything I needed. The layout is simple but clever: a compact, well-equipped kitchen; a little shower room; a sitting area with a decent‑sized table; and a double bed tucked up on the mezzanine, reached by fixed paddle steps. It was warm, welcoming, and thoughtfully designed, clearly put together by people who understand how to make small spaces feel generous, including plenty of storage so I could hide away my bags to keep the beach hut uncluttered.
The décor leans into seaside charm without tipping into cliché. No Punch‑and‑Judy stripes, just pale wood, clean lines, and a light, airy feel that suits the setting. The kitchen has everything you need for proper meals (hob, microwave, fridge, kettle), though note there’s no oven. The shower is reliably hot, the mezzanine bed is far more comfortable than you’d expect, and heating comes courtesy of a large towel‑rail‑style radiator that more-or-less kept the space cosy (noting that it was very cold and stormy during my visit).
A small wall‑mounted TV sits opposite the seating area, and the lodge has Wi‑Fi too, which was a blessing given how little phone signal I had down by the water. Thoughtful touches like cushions, soft lighting, and even a packet of biscuits made it feel instantly liveable.
And of course, the biggest amenity of all is the sea itself: right there, shifting and shimmering, close enough that you can hear at all times. To help you enjoy the view, the deck is elevated above the promenade; it felt private enough for pyjama‑clad morning tea, yet still gave me immediate access to the shoreline. Everything tasted better out there. Storms felt more dramatic. And the quiet moments seemed to stretch in the best possible way.
The Small Matter of Power
For all the comfort and charm of the lodge, there were a few small niggles worth mentioning. The shower, for instance, was reliably hot but a little lacking in pressure. Perfectly fine for a normal morning rinse, but after a bracing sea swim you really do want a proper hose‑down rather than a polite trickle. It did the job, just not with much enthusiasm.
Then there was the bench seating, which doubles as the downstairs bed. The cushions are thick and squishy enough to sit on all evening, but they’re covered in a wipe‑clean plastic that isn’t the most pleasant on bare skin. My solution was to commandeer the blanket stored underneath and drape it over the seat, which made things infinitely more comfortable. I can only imagine that in summer, with shorts on, you’d be peeling yourself off it like a sticker. I completely understand why they’ve gone for durability and easy cleaning, but it’s not the cosiest material.
And finally, the storm on Sunday night took the power out. Around 8.15pm the whole row of huts went dark, and it didn’t return until 1am. In some ways, this is the trade‑off with accommodation perched right on the beach, you’re a little removed from the usual grid comforts, so when something goes wrong, it affects everyone. That said, the team were brilliant: quick to respond, reassuring over text, and I felt confident they were ready with contingency plans if the outage dragged on. I read by head‑torch (packed for the cliff path, unexpectedly useful indoors), then messaged to say I was heading to bed and to call if needed. Inconvenient, yes, but hardly a disaster, and part of my honest account of staying somewhere this close to the elements.
Being by the Sea in Winter
I felt both extremes of winter weather during my beach‑hut stay. Saturday was a proper winter‑sun day: zero degrees, two‑coat territory, frost on the sand, and that hard light that makes everything look like the sharpness has been dialled up. Then Sunday arrived with the full force of a storm – wet, windy, wild – and as my mention of the power cut will attest, it was not messing around. The way I spent my time ended up mirroring the weather.
The whole reason for heading to the south coast was to see friends. Most of my time was spent with them, an excellent, unapologetically indulgent lunch at 7Bone; a wander up Bournemouth Pier (where we made firm plans to tackle the zip wire next time); a magical walk through Illuminate at The Blue Pool; and a cosy afternoon of toad in the hole and telly. It was a proper and overdue catch‑up that filled my cup.
Around that, I made the most of living simply by the sea. Winter strips the coastline back to its essentials: no crowds, no bustle, just the certainty of water meeting land again and again. Being somewhere I could hear that constantly, inside and out, was such a pleasure.
In truth, I spent most of my hut‑time doing very little that involved movement. I read, I wrote, and I began a frankly ridiculous binge‑watch of The Traitors from the very start. I did manage a lovely walk along the seafront into Bournemouth, and a shorter one in the opposite direction before Sunday’s storm really set in, but my step count was… modest. And that’s okay.
And Being IN the Sea in Winter
On Saturday morning, I couldn’t resist the pull of the sea. When the ocean is practically at your doorstep, I had to say hello. The sand was covered in frost, the air icy enough to make my eyes water, but the water itself was warmer than the world around it. My swim was brief, bracing, and exactly what I needed. That jolt of cold, the gasp, the rush of aliveness that follows… and if you watch the video, you’ll see the exact moment it hits.
I’ve recently rediscovered my love of cold‑water dips, partly thanks to all the sauna‑and‑plunge adventures I’ve been documenting in my Sauna Stories series, so I arrived at my little beach hut fully prepared. Swimsuit, beach towel, warm layers, the whole kit. And with the sea right there, just a few strides from my deck, it felt almost rude not to get in. As is becoming my norm, I ended up doing two dips in quick succession: the first to test the temperature and convince myself I could do it, the second a proper (if very short) swim that left me buzzing.
It turned out to be my only dip of the weekend. Both Sunday and Monday brought whipped‑up, unpredictable surf that was not safe for anything more than a single big toe. I stood at the shoreline, watched the waves hurl themselves about, and sensibly retreated to my tea.
The only thing that would have made the whole experience even better? A sauna. Sadly, none on this stretch of beach – but a girl can dream.
On Value
Given that Bournemouth Beach Lodges are perfectly positioned on the beach and sleep up to four adults and two kids, they come with a price tag to match. In peak season, you’re paying for location, capacity, and that rare ‘wake‑up‑and‑step‑onto‑the‑sand’ magic. But in winter, they become far more accessible. I paid £280 for a long weekend (around £93 a night), which felt very reasonable for what you get. This was with a 20% winter sale discount; the standard winter price would have been £350 (roughly £116 a night), which I still think is fair.
If I were to book the same three‑night stay in mid‑August (not even the bank holiday), it would be £700. If you’re filling all the beds – families especially – this seems okay-enough value. As a solo traveller, though, it’s not somewhere I’d rebook in summer. Winter is where the sweet spot lies: quieter, calmer, and much kinder on the wallet.
It should be said there are no hidden extras to worry about. Bedding and towels were included, as were Wi‑Fi, electricity, tea, coffee and biscuits. Everything felt straightforward and on a par with other quirky stays I’ve tried as part of this series.
And then there’s the value of the experience itself. You’re not just paying for a place to sleep, you’re paying for the novelty and joy of staying in a beach hut right on the beach. That alone carries its own kind of worth.
Beach Hut Reflections
As far as a first quirky stay of the year goes, this one set the bar beautifully high. It all came together at the last minute, booked barely ten days before I headed south, after a conversation with the friend I was already planning to visit. Beach huts were mentioned, the idea took hold, and suddenly I was living out a daydream I’ve carried around for years. One of those oddly specific, slightly whimsical dreams you don’t expect to actually tick off.
And the reality? Not luxurious in the traditional sense, but certainly far more luxurious than the beach‑hut fantasy I’d imagined. Warm, comfortable, cleverly designed, and close enough to the sea that the soundtrack never stopped. If I ever built a tiny house (I won’t, but still), I’d borrow more than a few ideas from the way the lodge used space so efficiently.
Looking back, what made the weekend special wasn’t just the novelty of the hut itself, but the combination of things: time with friends, winter light on the water, the simple pleasure of reading and writing with waves as background noise, and that bracing sea dip that jolted me awake in the best possible way. Would I return? Absolutely, though almost certainly in winter, when the prices are gentler and the coastline feels like it belongs to you.
As a first quirky stay of 2026, it was exactly the right blend of cosy, restorative, and quietly memorable. If you want to see the whole experience, storms, frost, tea consumption and all, the video captures it better than words ever could.
Quirky Stay in a Beach Hut: Fact File
Name: Bournemouth Beach Lodges
Location: At the foot of Manor Steps Zig Zag on Boscombe seafront, Bournemouth.
Type of Stay: It’s a beach hut, but think glamping hut with proper comforts
Features: Private deck with sea views, bifold doors for indoor-outdoor living, mezzanine double bed, downstairs seating/bed, clever small‑space design, steps from the sand.
Facilities: Compact kitchen (hob, microwave, fridge, kettle), shower, heating via towel‑rail radiator, Wi‑Fi, TV, bedding and towels included.
Best For: Anyone wanting a cosy, simple stay right on the beach.
Sleeps: Up to 4 adults and 2 children. Note some of the huts are dog friendly, but not all.
Cost: £280 total for three nights (winter long weekend, with 20% discount)
Booking: Direct (bookings made via BCP Council).