I’ll never forget the drive down to Devon – sat nav on, tea flask in hand, and me humming along to some cracking indie tunes. But about 20 minutes from our destination, disaster struck: a rogue sheep decided to play chicken with the car on those twisty lanes near Kingsbridge. Heart in mouth, I swerved just in time, spilling my brew all over the passenger seat. Laugh out loud, right? Still, it set the tone for an adventure where getting lost became the best bit.

Pulling up to our coastal bolthole in Hope Cove, I was buzzing with that proper holiday anticipation – you know, the kind where you imagine endless cream teas and sea swims. First impressions? Blimey, it blew us away. This place is a luxurious contemporary gem with direct access onto the coast path, offering jaw-dropping views and cracking walks. Tucked in one of the best spots in this buzzing holiday hotspot, it felt like our own private slice of paradise.

We wasted no time hitting the coast path, but true to form, my rubbish sense of direction kicked in. Instead of the obvious route to the beach, we veered off down a faint track marked by a weathered signpost half-hidden in gorse. What a find! It led to a secluded cove you’d never spot on a map – think turquoise waves lapping at pebbly shores, with seals bobbing about like nosy neighbours. No crowds, just us, a thermos of coffee, and the odd gull eyeing our pasties. Pure magic.

The next day, fancying a proper explore, we parked up near the village and wandered inland along a bridleway that wasn’t on any app. Got properly lost amid the rolling fields, but stumbled on this hidden gem of a wildflower meadow – alive with butterflies and the hum of bees. We picnicked there for hours, watching rabbits dart about. It made me reflect a bit, you see; back home I’m always rushing, glued to screens. Out here, losing the path forced me to slow down, breathe in the briny air, and just be. Daft as it sounds, it was a gentle nudge to loosen up.

Evenings were for more serendipitous discoveries. One dusk, following a whim down a narrow lane from the coast path, we found a tucked-away spot overlooking Bolt Head – dramatic cliffs plunging into the sea, with the sun dipping low like a copper coin. No one else around; we cracked open a bottle of local cider and toasted to happy accidents. Another time, meandering off the beaten track near South Huish, we chanced upon a tiny, family-run farm shop selling the freshest crab straight from the boats. Washed down with chips from the village, it was heaven.

Our few days flew by in this off-the-radar haven, all thanks to those accidental detours. Hope Cove’s got that pull – it rewards the wanderers, the ones happy to ditch the guidebook. If you’re after proper escape, get yourself lost here. You won’t regret it.