On a crisp autumn morning in Sandbanks, Poole, a sleepy seaside town known for its sweeping beaches and eye-watering property prices, a simple wooden fence has become the unlikely epicenter of a community battle. Erected earlier this year, the 12-meter-long barrier now divides not just a patch of sand, but also the residents themselves—fueling a heated debate over public access, private property, and the very soul of the British coastline.
For decades, locals like Suzanne McGowan have enjoyed the freedom of strolling along the foreshore, walking dogs and soaking in the tranquil views. "Nobody owns the sand, the sand is a natural public right of way," McGowan told BBC News, her voice echoing the sentiment of many who see the beach as a shared treasure. Having lived in Sandbanks since 1992, she’s watched her black Labrador grow from a puppy to a senior, with daily walks along Footpath No. 82—a route nestled between a yacht club and luxury homes, leading straight to the water’s edge. That simple pleasure, she says, has been snatched away.
The controversy erupted when homeowners on The Horseshoe, a road lined with multi-million-pound properties whose gardens spill onto the sand, installed the fence earlier in 2025. A sign now warns passersby to stay within a narrow 1.8-meter-wide path, bluntly announcing: "Trespassers will be prosecuted." For McGowan, the message is clear—and chilling. She recounts being told to leave after her dog wandered beyond the fence, an experience that left her feeling "very intimidating," and unable to return.
She’s not alone. Fanny Thomas, a lifelong local about to celebrate her 80th birthday, described a recent late-night walk that turned unsettling. As she stepped onto the sand, a security light flickered on, a CCTV camera tracked her, and a disembodied voice boomed from a speaker: "Go away." For Thomas and others, the sense of being watched—and warned—has replaced the peace they once found by the shore.
"Why should we have our beach fenced off?" asked Sue Draper, another longtime resident, her frustration palpable. She points out that the new restriction forces dog walkers and beachgoers onto a cramped patch of sand, a far cry from the open space they’d enjoyed for years. "We used it for all these years and nobody was bothered," she told BBC News. Lesley Barratt, who’s walked the same stretch since 2002, notes that the area’s quiet was perfect for locals, especially when the main beach teemed with summer crowds. "We don’t sit around there, we go along and then come back again," she said, emphasizing the low-impact use of the contested land.
But not everyone sees the fence as an affront. Nick Sawyer, a resident on The Horseshoe, responded via intercom to a reporter’s inquiry: "It is not a beach as they keep saying, it’s actually a foreshore and it’s privately owned." Sawyer insists he doesn’t mind respectful walkers but feels the situation has "gotten really out of hand and ridiculous." He adds, "I’m not trying to fight anybody here, I’m just trying to find an amicable solution." His words reflect a desire for peace, but also a firm stance on property rights.
Norman Allenby-Smith, chairman of the 650-member Sandbanks Community Group, has tried to broker a compromise—so far, unsuccessfully. "We felt we had to do something about it," he explained, citing the growing sense of intimidation among locals. "Before then it was friendly and people didn’t mind but now unfortunately it’s brought it to a head." The group is now seeking legal advice, worried that the fence could set a precedent for further restrictions across the peninsula. "It all sets a precedent and there are other areas that could have the same sort of problem if they are not careful. We’ve got to watch the protection of the public realm all around the peninsula," Allenby-Smith warned.
Sandbanks is no ordinary seaside town. With an average house price of £965,708 in 2024, it tops the list as Britain’s most expensive coastal location. The affluence is evident in the manicured gardens and high-tech security measures that now greet would-be beachgoers. Yet, for many, the fence is more than a physical barrier—it’s a symbol of a deeper rift between exclusivity and communal rights.
The question of who truly owns the shoreline only muddies the waters. The Crown Estate, which manages about half the foreshore in England, Wales, and Northern Ireland, confirmed to BBC News that "the land in question isn’t under TCE ownership and appears to be privately owned." Bournemouth, Christchurch and Poole Council echoed this, stating, "As the land is in ownership, there is no planning application required for the fence. In terms of the beach, I’ve been informed it is a private beach by the relevant officer and have nothing further to suggest public access is possible." In other words, the law is not on the side of the dog walkers—or at least, not yet.
For campaigners like Lewis Winks of the national Right to Roam group, the Sandbanks saga highlights a broader issue. "Ownership can be complex," he observed, arguing that people should have access to places where they’ve historically roamed, regardless of who holds the deeds. "I think one of the issues that’s being encountered is because the ownership structures are so complex and because we don’t have robust statutory rights of access that we end up with these situations where people literally overnight can lose really cherished access." Winks is calling for new legislation to protect public access, not just in Sandbanks but across the country.
The debate has left the community in limbo. Some residents, like McGowan, Thomas, Draper, and Barratt, feel excluded from a landscape that once belonged to everyone. Others, like Sawyer and his neighbors, assert their right to privacy and property, wary of unruly visitors and legal uncertainties. The Sandbanks Community Group continues to push for a "civilized solution," but as of early November 2025, the fence—and the arguments—remain firmly in place.
As the autumn sun sets over Poole Harbour, the fence stands as a reminder that in Britain’s most exclusive seaside enclave, the battle over a few meters of sand is about much more than just property lines. It’s about tradition, community, and the enduring question of who really owns the coast.
