Every harbour town has two versions of itself. There is the one on the postcards — the quay, the ice cream queue, the slipway where everybody stops to photograph the same three boats. And then there is the town the people who live there actually use: the lane behind the churchyard, the bench facing the inner harbour, the chapel with the door left open and a visitors' book nobody reads. The trick is not to avoid the busy places. It is to walk ten minutes past them.

Start With the Second Street Back

In almost every popular harbour town in the UK, the pattern repeats. You have the quay, then a row of former net lofts, chandlers and boat stores, and then — one street inland — the town proper, running parallel to the water on slightly higher ground. That second street back is where the noise drops away.

Look for the lane rather than the road. In Cornwall it is often signposted as an op, a narrow passage between two houses that looks like a mistake until you follow it. In Yorkshire and Northumberland it might be a ginnel, a snicket or a wynd. Head uphill and you will usually arrive at the church, and where there is a church there is a walled churchyard, and where there is a walled churchyard there is almost always a bench.

• Walk the length of the quay once, then turn inland at the first lane that climbs.
• Follow the church tower — it is the most reliable compass in any old port.
• Cross to the far side of the harbour, where the working boats moor, not the pleasure ones.
• Keep going five minutes past the point where the shops stop.

Let the Churchyard Do the Work

Coastal churchyards are the oldest quiet spaces in town, and they are usually open. Yew trees, leaning headstones, a gravel path that crunches underfoot, a bench worn smooth on one armrest. Some have a notice board with the history of the fishermen lost from that parish — worth five minutes of reading, and a good reminder of what the town was before the car parks.

Churches and chapels in harbour towns tend to be modest and often unlocked during daylight. Methodist chapels, Baptist rooms and the occasional Quaker meeting house sit at the end of terraces or behind a low wall, easy to miss. A fishermen's mission near the quay is another good bet. If the door is open, go in. Sit at the back for a few minutes. Sign the book if there is one. Close the gate properly behind you.

Benches With a Purpose

Avoid the promenade benches, which are always full and always facing the wrong way. The good ones are on the paths locals use to get somewhere: the cut-through to the lifeboat station, the footpath to the cemetery, the lane down to the laundry or the bus stop. These benches are usually donated in memory of someone, and they are kept up by the family. Treat them accordingly.

Look for a seat facing the inner harbour rather than the open sea. At low water you can watch the whole working life of the port — chains, blocks, boats leaning on their bilges, a man in overalls doing something to an engine that takes all afternoon. This is the town's real business, and it is far more interesting than the outer harbour view everyone photographs.

• Carry a sit mat or a folded fleece — coastal benches are cold even in July.
• Ten minutes without a phone is the whole point.
• If a bench faces someone's front window, keep your voice down or find another.

Time It Right

Crowds keep office hours. In high summer, the quay is busiest between about 11am and 4pm. Before nine in the morning you will have the harbour almost to yourself, with the gulls, the delivery vans and the first dog walkers. After five, when the day trippers head for the car parks, the town relaxes again and the lanes empty.

Out of season is better still. October half term, a bright November Sunday, a cold clear morning in February — this is when the quiet corners feel less like a secret and more like a gift. Check the tide tables too. Low water in a small harbour reveals a whole landscape of mud, ladders and mooring chains that vanishes twice a day, and the footpaths along the inner walls become walkable.

Walk Softly and You Will Be Welcomed

Quiet corners exist because residents protect them. A few habits will keep you welcome.

• Wear shoes with grip. Harbour lanes are steep, cobbled and often wet with spray or rain.
• Respect private signs. Many lanes look public but end at someone's kitchen door.
• Buy something small if you use a café's outside seating as your resting place.
• Take everything home, including dog bags and apple cores.
• Ask locally. The person behind the counter will usually tell you the best bench in town if you ask nicely.

None of this takes planning. It takes a willingness to walk past the obvious, turn up a lane that looks like nothing, and sit still for a quarter of an hour. Do that once and you will find that the popular harbour towns, which everyone claims are spoiled, still keep a quieter version of themselves — for anyone prepared to look for it.