Sometime during the mid-afternoon on Sunday, 4th June 2000, a number of the members of Derby’s Doctor Who fan group, the Whoovers, found themselves standing on a beach. To the east was Portmeirion, over in the distance was Porthmadog, beyond that, Tremadog Bay.

The small group stood together – hushed, silent and still. Aside from the lush lapping of the water from the low tide they could literally hear nothing. Alone with their heartbeats they stood in what seemed to be the most tranquil place on Earth...

The day had begun in an equally quiet and isolated – yet not as picturesque – place. The scheduled minibus for the six-month-old group’s first trip arrived at 8:20 a.m. in Derby city centre to take the assembled Whoovers members on a day out to two Doctor Who related sites in North Wales.

The first port of call for the 14-strong group was The Doctor Who Experience in Llangollen. Good time was made and the minibus pulled into the carpark of the Lower Dee Exhibition Centre at around 11:00 a.m.

Outside the main building sits a later version of the Doctor’s sprightly roadster Bessie. The first of a number of group photographs was taken with the crowd stood, sat and squatted around the car. (As one member of the group pointed out, the car’s registration – SUX 419 – was quite apt for the Whoovers.)

The Doctor Who Experience is an enclosed museum in which a medley of Doctor Who artefacts are on display. As the group walked round its dramatically lit corridors they could glance upon the TARDIS, Daleks, original costumes from most of the Doctors, an original K-9 prop and numerous monsters and villains ranging from Ice Warriors to Sea Devils, and from the Mandrill to the Magma Beast.

Many photographs were taken and the information panels were scrutinised for mistakes (since when did the Malus appear in The Visitation?) as a group of Doctor Who fans came face-to-face with the original props and costumes seen in original episodes. Some of the objects on display seemed strangely small; others – such as K-9 – were remarkably large.

Other surprises and nuances were discovered by this chance for close inspection: the little representation of The Malus seen in the TARDIS in The Awakening was found to be far more detailed and finely crafted than it appeared on screen; the Sixth Doctor’s waistcoat’s buttons were a lot more charming than previously thought, and a number of the Whoovers suffered jumps of shock as costumes moved eerily at the touch of interactive buttons.

One chief complaint was that the coloured (and often pulsating) lighting made it hard to properly see some of the displays and near on impossible to get decent photographs. The costumes of the Fifth and Sixth Doctors, for example, were housed under soft red lamps that blurred the clothing’s colour, whilst this writer found that Sharez Jek’s face mask was under a timed strobe light.

The group enjoyed a good 90 minutes roaming the displays and checking out the excellent Doctor Who gift shop. Another group photograph was taken inside with the group tightly packed around the original 1970s version of Bessie... so tightly packed that Bessie is obscured from view on the finished photo!

At 12:30 p.m. it was time to make tracks and leave Llangollen – next stop: Portmeirion.

Sir Clough Williams-Ellis’ “home for fallen buildings” may not be an obvious choice for a Doctor Who outing, but the reasons why the Whoovers went are numerous.

Between 1926 and 1976 Williams-Ellis built up his mock Mediterranean village by seizing upon an eclectic choice of architecture and designing a mesmeric place that seems so far removed from civilisation as to be almost heavenly.

The place is situated on a bulging peninsula south east of Porthmadog. The landscape is dominated by roaming mountains and the sprawling beaches; the rich, sea air is invigorating and fills your lungs with energy.

No surprise then that Portmeirion was chosen as the location for two television programmes of interest to The Whoovers. The Doctor Who link relates to Tom Baker’s third season – 1976’s The Masque of Mandragora was filmed there.

The other TV tie-in is non-Who, but was of great interest to a number of The Whoovers: the 1967/68 ITC series The Prisoner was filmed – as its last episode’s credit says – in the grounds of the Hotel Portmeirion via arrangement with Clough Williams-Ellis. In the Patrick McGoohan-starring series, Portmeirion was used as the representation of the enigmatic ‘Village’.

However, despite that, when the Whoovers arrived at around 2:00 p.m., the consensus was that the main reason for visiting was that Portmeirion is amongst the most beautiful and peaceful places on Earth. The majesty of the place is revealed to its visitors in a very intoxicating way – entry is gained via a leafy lane that restricts the view. It was only after the Whoovers turned the corner by the gift shops that the view opened out. The village is dominated by its central courtyard: a shallow pool that focuses the surrounding buildings and facades.

It was by this pool (which itself stayed out of shot), that the Doctor was nearly executed in The Masque of Mandragora’s first episode. However, it was Prisoner references which were more apparent – Number 6’s house (now – aptly – The Prisoner Shop), Number 2’s dome (much smaller than television implies and no longer green), the grass verge where Number 6 runs across in the opening titles (which is also the site of the much-remembered human chess match), and the multitude of walkways, balconies and alcoves that featured prominently.

However, that’s not to say that the place is full of Doctor Who or Prisoner references – quite the opposite. If it weren’t for The Prisoner shop, you’d never know that television programmes had been filmed there.

On the days leading up to the Sunday of the trip many Whoovers had winced at the weather reports that used words like “changeable”, “scattered” and “showers”, and – the most dreaded – “rain”. Indeed, the drive into and across North Wales featured occasional hints of light rain. However, with perfection befitting the day, the weather within the boundaries of Portmeirion was bright, clear, warm and glorious.

As the day progressed the Whoovers took off jackets, tied coats around their waists and donned sunglasses.

This illuminating weather helped the Whoovers appreciate the myriad colours – the pinks, reds, yellows, blues and whites – that dominate Portmeirion’s architecture and the montage of greens in the many trees, plants and grasses.

Time was spent in small groups exploring the main village. It was noted how exquisitely detailed the place was - every corner, alcove or free bit of space was crammed with interest. On the cornered balcony of one building stood a watchful statue of Christ; in a hidden crevice near the main walkway was a bold and proud Buddha. (The religious imagery was by no means forceful – yet it seems strangely appropriate for such a divine place.) Every opportunity was taken to climb to the balconies and assessable ledges that overlooked the central courtyard – between them the Whoovers took hundreds of photographs.

Not before too long, a larger group met up and took the path down to the Hotel which sits next to the splendid coastline. The tide was out, leading to a vast expanse of sand that stretched out across the estuary to the south and out to Tremadog Bay to the west. The group of about eight made for the beach, carefully negotiating wet sand, slippery rocks, a shallow stream of water and the fear of falling.

From the beach all that could be seen of the village was the impressive bell tower that Williams-Ellis intended to be his focal point. The group explored the caves, walked along the coast and Whoover Nigel Wright played out Number 6’s famous run across the sand.

They walked around the peninsula, into view of Porthmadog out to the west. The group spent a few – regrettably short – moments stood in peaceful silence – no cars, no music, no shouts... only the sound of water and wind. Although no scientific investigation was carried out, it would be fair to assume that everyone’s heartbeats slowed down.

A short trek through the woodland led back to the main village, where the group found they had about an hour until the scheduled leaving time (an hour may not sound too long, but you come to believe in Portmeirion that time runs on a different scale to the rest of the world). The last hour was spent eating ice cream, exploring the gift shops, and generally relaxing in the grounds: pleasure by osmosis. The sunshine got even brighter, the place even more tranquil. A few last-minute snapshots were taken. A splendid group photograph was taken with the Whoovers collected around the front door to Number 6’s house.

And then it was time to leave. However, Whoovers co-ordinator Steve Hardy (a veteran of many Portmeirion visits) knew of a spot near the exit that the majority of visitors miss. An almost hidden set of steps led off the main path down to Belvedere Outlook, a turret-like structure that overlooks the expanse of the estuary. With everyone present and correct, the Whoovers sat on the walls and the bench and looked out one last time at the view. (The current writer and fellow Whoover Jonathan Spears found steps leading underneath the outlook and discovered a seablue grotto of remarkable beauty. Marine light flooded the small room through narrow windows, and seashells were embedded into the circular walls and ceiling. The thing you come away from Portmeirion most understanding is that fact that if you look, you will discover.)

The hot and humid minibus pulled out of Portmeirion carpark just after 5:30 p.m. The long drive home – interrupted by a merciful stop-off at a charming pub near Nantwich – featured half the group falling asleep (yes, Nigel!)... and the other half taking photographs of them.

It was nearly 10:00 p.m. when the bus arrived back in Derby. Everyone said their goodbyes as they were dropped off. Everyone declared the trip an unqualified success and expressed a wish to go back soon. As the bus passed under the sodium-yellow of Derby’s street lamps – past the pubs and traffic lights and shops – a fact hit home. The Whoovers’ first organised trip had not been simply to North Wales; it had been to a place so far removed from hassles of society as to seem otherworldly. Of all the things seen on that June Sunday – Daleks, Tractators, Time Lord costumes – it’s ironic that Portmeirion seemed the more unearthly.