I’ll never forget the drive up to Wells-next-the-Sea – a proper Norfolk jaunt that started with me confidently tapping “avoid motorways” into the sat-nav, only for it to guide us straight into a cheeky traffic jam just outside Fakenham. Cue 20 minutes of idling behind a tractor towing what looked like half a haystack, with the kids in the back chanting “are we there yet?” like a broken record. Still, by the time we rolled into town, the anticipation was bubbling – I could already picture those harbour views we’d been promised.

Pulling up, we couldn’t be closer to the water if we tried. This luxurious apartment sits right in the heart of Wells-next-the-Sea, offering uninterrupted, soul-stirring views across the harbour. Perfect for a romantic escape, it places you just steps from the lively quayside, surrounded by independent boutiques, cosy pubs and tempting restaurants. First impressions? Blimey, they hit like a sea breeze – we dumped the bags, flung open the windows, and there it was: boats bobbing, gulls wheeling, and that salty tang in the air. Felt like we’d stepped into a postcard.

We’d packed for classic Norfolk weather – layers, waterproofs, the lot – and day one didn’t disappoint. A crisp morning lured us out for a hike along the quayside path towards the beach. It’s only a couple of miles, but with the tide out, you’re crunching over firm sand, dunes rising like golden waves on one side, marshy creeks glittering on the other. We waved at crabbers with their pots and watched seals poke their heads up from the water. Lunch was fish and chips from a hut right there on the front – greasy perfection wrapped in paper, eaten standing up with sand in our shoes.

But oh, the British weather – it’s got a wicked sense of humour. By afternoon, the sky turned moody, and a squall rolled in faster than you can say “gale force.” Our grand plan for a longer trek to Holkham Pines? Scrubbed. Instead, we dashed back, laughing as rain pelted us, and holed up with tea and board games, watching the harbour churn from the sofa. It forced a bit of reflection, actually – me sat there, cosy and dry, thinking how I’m always chasing the perfect sunny hike, but these curveballs make the good bits shine brighter. No epic 10-miler, but that soggy detour felt more real, more us.

Next day, blue skies returned like they’d never left, and we were off again – this time looping around East End Marsh on the coastal path. Wind-whipped but glorious, with skylarks overhead and mud-splattered boots for souvenirs. We detoured into town for a pub stop, pints of local ale and stories swapped with fishermen. Evenings were for ambling the quayside at dusk, lights twinkling on the water, grabbing supper from one of those tempting spots nearby.

Looking back, it was those weather-whipped walks that made it – unpredictable, refreshing, utterly Norfolk. If you fancy ditching the car for a few days of sea-salted strides, this is your spot. We’re already plotting a return.