I’ll never forget the drive up to Ambleside – sat nav screaming at me as we missed the turn for the A591 thanks to a cheeky diversion sign that wasn’t there five minutes earlier. We ended up on some narrow, twisty lane with sheep glaring at us like we’d gatecrashed their party. Heart in mouth, but laughing about it, we finally spotted the parking area for our hillside apartment, perched just above the bustle of the town centre. Stepping out, the fresh Lake District air hit us like a tonic, and those first views over the rooftops to the fells had me grinning ear to ear. Couldn’t wait to settle in.

The place was spot on – a comfy self-catering flat with two bedrooms (king-size double for us, single for my mate tagging along), a cracking kitchen, and a modern sitting room with a gas fire that promised cosy nights. Best bit? The kidney-shaped bath in the bathroom, screaming for a long soak after whatever adventures we’d muster. Down a flight of steps from the car park, it felt tucked away yet right in the thick of things – perfect for couples or a small group of pals, and wisely not for under-12s with all those stairs.

We wasted no time diving into the Lakes, but the real magic happened when we ditched the obvious paths and got properly lost. First day, aiming for Wansfell Pike, we veered off onto a faint sheep track behind some houses on Wansfell Road. Should’ve turned back, but curiosity won. It spat us out at this hidden gill – Stock Gill Force, I reckon – a tumbling waterfall you’d miss unless you were hopelessly disoriented. Sat there with flasks of tea from the kitchen, mesmerised by the water crashing down, no crowds in sight. Proper hidden gem, found by sheer fluke.

Next morning, wandering from the flat towards the centre, we took a wrong turn past the bridge over Stock Ghyll and stumbled into Nanny Brow Woods. Barely a soul around, just carpets of bluebells (wrong season, but lush ferns instead) and views peeking through the trees to Windermere that felt like our secret. We picnicked on cheese scones nabbed from a tiny bakery on the high street – Ambleside’s full of those unassuming spots if you look sideways.

The pattern stuck: getting lost became our hobby. One afternoon, looping back from Loughrigg Fell via lesser paths, we tumbled upon a quiet tarn off the beaten track near Lily Tarn – not the famous one, but a glassy wee pool ringed by bracken, ideal for skipping stones and pondering life. I had one of those moments, sat there with feet dangling in, thinking how daft it is rushing through holidays. Why cram in the tourist traps when these accidental finds recharge you proper? Laughed at myself for once being the itinerary kingpin.

Evenings, we’d flop by the gas fire with takeaways from a low-key Ambleside chippy, plotting the next misadventure. That apartment was the ideal base – close enough to pop down for a pint at The Waterhead, but elevated for that peaceful vibe. Left feeling like we’d uncovered the Lakes’ best-kept secrets, all because we embraced the wrong turns. Can’t recommend ditching the map enough – pure joy.