We’d barely made it out of the car park at Seaways when the heavens decided to test our resolve. I’d been so busy admiring the low white cottage with its neat little garden and the glimpse of blue sea beyond that I completely forgot about the carrier bag of snacks on the roof. One sharp gust and our crisps were halfway down the lane, chased by a rogue sausage roll. We laughed until we cried, then set off again with what was left, already damp from the sudden Cornish drizzle.

The plan had been a proper coastal ramble straight from the door, but the weather had other ideas. One minute we were pulling on waterproofs, the next the sun was blazing and we were peeling layers off again. Seaways sits perfectly for that sort of indecision; a short stroll down the lane brings you to the South West Coast Path, and from there the choices feel endless. We headed east first, following the cliffs towards the little coves tucked between the headlands. The path was springy underfoot and the gorse was in full yellow bloom, smelling faintly of coconut in the warm patches between showers.

By the time we reached the next bay the clouds had cleared properly. We scrambled down a narrow track to the shingle and spent an hour skimming stones while the tide crept in around our boots. Back at the cottage we dried off on the bench outside, watching gulls wheel above the garden wall. Lunch was a makeshift picnic of whatever hadn’t escaped earlier, eaten with sandy fingers and a shared bottle of water that had gone warm in the rucksack.

The afternoon brought another shift. We’d meant to push on to a longer stretch of the path, but a sudden warm downpour sent us scurrying back under the eaves. Rather than fight it we changed tack, following a gentler inland track that looped through fields and brought us out above a different stretch of coast. The light was soft after the rain, turning the sea a deep slate blue. We stood there for ages, coats steaming gently, just listening to the waves below.

That evening the sky cleared again and we wandered down to the beach one last time. The sand was still warm from the day’s sun and we paddled until our feet went numb. Walking back up the lane I caught myself thinking how little the weather had actually mattered. We’d covered barely three miles all told, yet it felt like a proper adventure. Seaways had given us exactly what we needed: a cosy base, ever-changing views, and the freedom to let the Cornish elements steer the day.