I’ll never forget the drive down to Woolacombe last autumn – the leaves were turning that gorgeous rusty orange, carpeting the verges like someone had scattered a million quid’s worth of confetti. I’d been buzzing with anticipation for weeks, dreaming of cosy nights in after bracing beach walks, but true to form, I managed a classic me-mishap en route. About halfway through Exmoor, the sat-nav decided to throw a wobbly, directing me down a narrow lane that pinched tighter than my budget. I ended up reversing into a hedge with the caravan trailer (yes, I’m that optimistic holidaymaker), leaves in my hair and a sheep eyeing me judgementally from the field. A quick untangle, a sheepish laugh, and we were back on track, the autumn sun dipping low and painting the moors in gold.

Pulling up to the property just as dusk settled was pure magic – this smart, modern beach house perched with killer views over the bay, all sleek lines and welcoming vibes that screamed ‘kick back and unwind’. First impressions? Spot on. The sea was a moody slate grey under scudding clouds, waves crashing with that proper autumn ferocity, and I could already smell the salt mixed with damp earth. No summer crowds here; it was just us, the wind, and the whisper of off-season peace.

Autumn shaped every minute of our stay, turning what could’ve been a standard break into something properly soul-stirring. Mornings started with frosty air nipping at our noses as we crunched down to Woolacombe Beach, barely another soul in sight. The sand was firm underfoot from the recent tides, perfect for long, windswept strolls where you could let your thoughts wander like the gulls overhead. We’d spot seals bobbing offshore – they love this time of year when the water’s alive with fish but the tourists have scarpered. One day, we timed it for low tide and wandered out to the rocks, poking about in rock pools teeming with anemones and crabs, the weak sun glinting off the water like scattered diamonds. It felt timeless, you know? No rush, just the rhythm of the sea and the crunch of seaweed.

Afternoons were for hunkering down as the light faded early – proper excuse to light the fire and crack open a pot of tea (or something stronger). We’d cook up hearty stews with local spuds and pasties from the village shop, windows steamed up while outside the dunes turned shadowy and mysterious. One evening, a storm rolled in, rain lashing the glass as we played board games, the house feeling like a warm bubble against the wildness. Hilarious moment: I slipped on the wet path coming back from the pub, landing flat on my bum in a puddle. My other half nearly choked on his pint laughing – fair play, I deserved it after that hedge fiasco.

Reflecting now, that autumn hush made me realise how much I needed the reset. Summer’s all go, but this season stripped it back – fewer distractions, more headspace. We even caught the tail end of the woolly mammoth-shaped clouds over Baggy Point on a clearer day, hiking the coast path with thermoses in hand, hearts full. If you’re after that proper Devon escape, chase the autumn vibes; they’ll wrap you up like a favourite jumper. Can’t wait to go back.