I’ll never forget the drive down to Looe – that classic British road trip where you think you’ve got it all planned, only for a cheeky wrong turn just past Plymouth to turn a three-hour journey into four. Sat nav said one thing, my gut said another, and before I knew it, we were looping around some narrow lanes with hedges tall enough to swallow the car whole. Still, by the time we rolled into town, the sun was peeking through, and my heart lifted at the sight of the sea sparkling ahead.

Pulling up to our stunning first-floor apartment right on the water’s edge was pure magic – own parking spot and all, which felt like winning the lottery after that drive. Elegant inside with the plushest towels and bed linen, it had those massive windows framing the beach and sea views that made you want to cancel all plans and just stare. Seven minutes’ walk to the pubs and shops, we dumped the bags and cracked open a window to the salty breeze. First impressions? Spot on – cosy as anything, with gas heating and that wood-burning stove-effect heater promising winter bliss, though we were there in autumn.

I’d been buzzing about the coastal walks all week, especially that famous path to Polperro. Day one, the weather gods smiled: blue skies, a gentle breeze off Hannafore Point next door. We laced up our boots and headed out along the waterside, the path hugging the cliffs with gulls wheeling overhead and waves crashing below. Looe’s meandering streets tempted us for a pub lunch – fresh crab sandwiches from a spot by the quay – before pushing on. The views were tremendous, wildflowers nodding in the sun, and we felt like proper explorers. Laughed our heads off when I nearly tripped over a rogue rabbit, mind too busy on the horizon.

But oh, the British weather – it’s got a wicked sense of humour. Next morning, we woke to horizontal rain lashing the windows, turning our Polperro hike dreams into a soggy scramble. Plans B, C, and D kicked in: shorter loops around Hannafore Point, hoods up, puddles splashing everywhere. It was bracing, invigorating even – that fresh fish we’d grabbed from the quay the day before tasted even better cooked up in the apartment, steaming windows fogged as we watched the storm roll out to sea. We dashed next door to the Hannafore Point Hotel’s bar for a warming pint, their pool tempting but us too knackered to swim.

By afternoon, the clouds parted like they’d had enough of our moaning, so out we went again – a gentle beach ramble at low tide, picking our way over pebbles, seals barking in the distance. Those weather flips kept us on our toes, mixing epic hikes with cosy apartment downtime, fish suppers, and sea-gazing. Reflecting now, it was perfect – reminded me how I sometimes chase grand adventures, but it’s the adaptable, laugh-through-the-rain ones that stick. Looe’s paths delivered every time, rain or shine, and we came home fitter, saltier, and already plotting the next walk. Can’t wait to go back.