Benone Beach Motorhome Parking: My Wild Night (and Sand Nightmare)

So, I thought I’d treat myself (and Kathy, and the dogs – Lucky, the Lab/Alsatian cross drama queen, and Milo, the ‘Jug’ with the face of a perpetually surprised gargoyle) to a night parked up on Benone Beach. Downhill’s always been the easy-going neighbour, you know? Benone’s got that ‘look at me, I’m stunning but high-maintenance’ vibe. Turns out, the vibe was spot on.

Now, I love the idea of beachside living. The ocean sounds, the wide-open views… the reality, however, often involves sand in places sand should never be, and a healthy dose of tide-induced anxiety. And Benone, bless its sandy heart, delivered both in spades. Honestly, I’m pretty sure sand is my personal nemesis at this point.

Cousins and Carnage (Ahem, Craic)

The evening started off lovely enough. Kathy’s cousin, Lisa, and her husband, Gerry, came for a visit. Great craic, catching up, the usual family banter. What I didn’t factor in was the sheer volume of sand that can be transported into a vehicle by two seemingly innocent individuals. It was like a beachhead assault, and my motorhome was losing the battle. I’m pretty sure they brought half of Benone with them, grain by grain.

At least I had a handy vacuum cleaner to hand!

We had a good laugh, though, and that’s the main thing. They eventually headed off around 12:30 a.m., leaving behind a trail of… well, let’s call it ‘evidence’ of their visit. But the night was far from over. Benone had more surprises in store for yours truly.

Dealing with Beach Antics While Motorhome Parking at Benone

Just as the sand settled (metaphorically speaking, it was still everywhere), the local youth decided to return Benone into their own personal rally course. We thought they’d had their fun earlier in the evening, but their cars were tearing up and down the beach, doing donuts, generally having a grand old time. Now, I’m not one to begrudge a bit of fun, but when you’re parked a few feet away, and the tide’s pushing everyone closer together, it gets a bit hairy. A fella starts to wonder if his insurance covers ‘tide-induced vehicular shenanigans’. It’s a good job I’ve got [Affiliate CCTV] surrounding the van if I needed any video evidence for court.

I half-expected to see them drift past with a boombox blaring and a ‘The Fast and the Furious’ flag flying out the window. It was less ‘serene seaside escape’ and more ‘impending vehicular chaos with a side of salty air’.

Tide Dangers When Benone Beach Motorhome Parking

Ah, the tide. My nemesis. My beautiful, terrifying nemesis. I adore the sound of the ocean, the rhythmic crashing of the waves. It’s the ultimate relaxation soundtrack. But the thought of waking up in a floating motorhome? That’s my personal horror movie. And Benone’s tide looked particularly ambitious that night. It was practically licking its lips, eyeing up my tyres.

So, what does any sane person do? I moved the van. Further inland, away from the encroaching water. Only to discover that Benone’s sand has a dark secret: it’s soft. Really soft. Like ‘swallow a motorhome whole and spit out the aerial’ soft. Cue minor panic attack and some very ungentlemanly language.

Then, around 3 a.m., the tide anxiety kicked in again. I swear it was getting closer. Like one of those horror movie monsters that slowly but surely creeps towards its victim. So, I moved again, this time closer to the beach entrance, figuring safety in numbers (and the hope that other fleeing campers would wake me up). Paranoia? Maybe. Justified? Definitely. Benone’s tide is not to be trifled with.

The Morning After (The Calm After the Storm… of Sand)

The rest of the night passed without incident, thankfully. Kathy and the dogs slept like logs, oblivious to my nocturnal adventures in vehicle relocation. I, on the other hand, was running on caffeine and adrenaline by sunrise. But you know what? The morning was beautiful. Peaceful. The ocean sounds were soothing (finally!), and the only drama was trying to figure out where all the sand came from. I’m pretty sure Milo was smuggling it in his fur. That dog is a menace.

Conclusion

Benone Beach, you were an experience. A chaotic, sandy, tide-filled experience. Would I do it again? Possibly. If they invent self-cleaning motorhomes, build a tide-proof wall, and declare sand illegal. Until then, I might stick with Downhill. It’s less drama, more chill. But hey, at least I got a blog post out of it, right? And that’s what counts (sort of).

What about you? Are you brave enough to tackle Benone, or are you a Downhill devotee like me? Let me know in the comments! And don’t forget to subscribe for more tales of my (mis)adventures on the road (and sand)!