I’ll never forget the drive over to the Isle of Wight last autumn – leaves turning that gorgeous coppery gold, but wouldn’t you know it, we hit a massive queue at the Lymington ferry just as the wind picked up and started hurling sideways rain at the windscreen. Typical British autumn, innit? Me and the missus were knackered after the M3 crawl, and I nearly spilled my thermos of tea when a gust rocked the car. Still, as the ferry chugged across the Solent, the anticipation built – that crisp sea air sneaking in, promising cosy nights in once we got settled.

Pulling up to our apartment in the heart of Freshwater felt like a proper treat right from the off. It’s one of those unpretentious spots, all welcoming and snug, bang in the middle of town so you’re never more than a short wander from a decent cuppa. First impressions? Spot on. The autumn light was filtering through the windows in that soft, hazy way, turning everything golden, and with the season’s chill in the air, it was perfect for hunkering down after a day out.

We timed it brilliantly for October – not too mobbed, but the island was putting on a show with its fiery foliage. Mornings started with a brisk stroll to Colwell Bay, just a mile away, where the waves crashed against pebbly shores under dramatic skies. The autumn winds whipped up properly, making you feel alive, cheeks rosy as we skimmed stones and watched dog walkers battle the gusts. One day, we wandered over to Freshwater Bay, 1.5 miles along the coastal path – the cliffs were alive with rustling bracken and those vibrant berries poking out everywhere. It was bracing, alright, but the sea mist rolling in added this magical, moody vibe you just don’t get in summer.

History buffs like me couldn’t resist Dimbola Museum and Galleries, a quick mile jaunt. Tucked away with Tennyson connections, it was eerie and enchanting in the autumn gloom – perfect for poring over old photos while the rain pattered outside. We even tackled a gentler route up Tennyson Down, 2.5 miles off, where the heather was fading to purples and the views stretched out forever under those big, brooding clouds. Hiking in autumn there is a dream; fewer crowds, crisp air that sharpens every breath, and panoramic vistas that make you stop and stare.

Evenings were all about warming up in Freshwater’s cosy cafes and pubs, less than a mile away – think hearty bowls of local chowder made with fresh catch, or a slice of apple crumble that hits different when the days are drawing in early. One night, sat by the window with a pint, watching leaves swirl in the streetlights, I had a bit of a moment. Holidays like this make you reflect, don’t they? Work’s been manic, life rushing by, but here, with the season slowing everything down, I realised how much I needed this reset. No rushing, just us, the island’s autumn charm, and that simple joy of being present.

If you’re after a getaway that wraps you in seasonal magic without the summer hordes, Freshwater in autumn is pure gold. We’re already plotting a return – ferry queues and all.