I’ll never forget the drive down to our little holiday cottage near Poundstock – we’d piled into the car in Bristol with high hopes of sunny Cornish escapades, only for the sat-nav to chuck us into the mother of all traffic jams just past Exeter. What should’ve been a breezy four hours turned into a six-hour crawl, with the kids bickering over the last Haribo and me frantically googling “nearest pasty stop”. By the time we trundled up that final winding lane, I was frazzled, but oh, the anticipation! There it was, this cosy three-bed cottage tucked into a peaceful countryside spot, just a mile from Widemouth Bay’s sweeping sands. First impressions? Spot on – welcoming lights glowing, a cheeky robin on the fence eyeing us up like we were intruders. We dumped the bags and cracked open a bottle of fizz on the patio, toasting the promise of proper adventures.

North Cornwall’s coastline is made for walkers, and we were itching to hit the South West Coast Path that snakes right above Widemouth Bay. Day one dawned bright and blustery – perfect for a bracing hike. We parked up at the bay, boots on, and off we went, the sea crashing below like it was auditioning for a pirate film. The views were staggering: jagged cliffs plunging into turquoise waves, gulls wheeling overhead. We laughed our way along to Summerleaze Beach in Bude, about three and a half miles on, dodging salty spray and pretending we were Bear Grylls. Lunch was fish and chips on the sand, eaten standing up because the wind was having none of our picnic plans. I felt alive, properly alive, with that sea air blasting the city cobwebs away.

But this is Britain, innit? Day two, the weather flipped like a moody teenager. Grey skies rolled in overnight, and by morning it was chucking it down – proper horizontal rain that turned the Coast Path into a muddy slip-and-slide. Our grand plan for a longer trek to the canal towpath in Bude? Scrapped. Instead, we layered up and embraced the chaos with a shorter loop from the cottage, splashing through puddles in the countryside, hoods up, giggling at the sheer daftness of it. “This is character-building!” I yelled over the gale, while secretly wondering if my waterproofs were up to snuff. We ended up at Widemouth Manor for a warm lunch with sea views, steaming mugs of tea in hand, watching surfers battle the swells. It was one of those moments of gentle self-reflection – sometimes the best holidays aren’t the Instagram-perfect ones, but the soggy, stubborn ones where you just keep going.

By day three, the sun peeked out, teasing us with a rainbow over the bay. We tackled another Coast Path jaunt, this time gentler, weaving through dunes and wildflowers, the weather playing nice for once. Bude’s sea pool shimmered below, and we vowed to return for a dip next time. Those hikes, good and bad weather, were the heart of it all – they shifted our plans, tested our mettle, and left us buzzing. If you fancy a proper Cornish reset, grab your wellies and head to that peaceful retreat near Widemouth. You won’t regret it, rain or shine.