I’ll never forget the drive down to Devon last month – we’d packed the car to the brim with wellies, waterproofs, and enough crisps to last a siege, only for the sat-nav to chuck us into a cheeky detour through some narrow lanes near Exeter. A branch had fallen across the road after overnight rain, turning our smooth motorway run into a 20-minute faff of reversing and three-point turns. Still, by the time we rolled up to the cosy lodge in the early afternoon, the anticipation was buzzing. Nestled in a quiet spot just outside the city, it was one of those charming wooden retreats with a pitched roof and a little veranda – proper holiday vibes, and the first impressions? Spot on. The sun even peeked out as we unloaded, promising a cracking week of walks.

First day, we laced up our boots for a gentle stroll along the nearby river paths towards the Exe Estuary. Devon’s trails are a dream for that – flat enough for a bimble, with herons flapping lazily overhead and the water sparkling. We munched pasties from a farm shop en route, feeling all smug about our ‘active holiday’. But oh, the British weather – it’s like clockwork chaos. By evening, clouds rolled in thick as clotted cream, and next morning we woke to a proper downpour. Plan A was a longer hike up to the Haldon Forest ridges, but no chance; we pivoted to a muddy tramp around the local woods instead. Slipping about on slick paths, laughing as puddles swallowed our socks, it was pure daft fun. I ended up looking like a drowned rat, but there’s something brilliant about embracing the soggy side of things.

Midweek, the skies cleared like they’d had a telling-off, so we tackled the Exeter Canal towpath – a solid 5-mile out-and-back, weaving past locks and under bridges, with views of the city’s cathedral spire in the distance. Proper leg-burner on the way back, but stopping for tea at a canal-side café made it all worthwhile. That’s when I had a quiet moment of reflection, sat there with my cuppa, watching barges chug by. Work had been manic, and I’d been grinding away without a proper break – these walks, rain or shine, reminded me how a bit of fresh air sorts the head out. No gym needed; just Devon’s rolling paths and a good stride.

Of course, the weather flipped again on our last full day – lashing rain forcing us into a sheltered loop around the village commons, dodging cows and chatting to dog-walkers who’d seen it all before. We got drenched, but it beat lounging indoors. Back at the lodge each night, drying off by the fire with a brew, we’d plan the next ramble, weather app at the ready. Those hikes, from sunny estuary saunters to wet woodland scrambles, made the trip. Devon’s got that magic – unpredictable weather turning every outing into an adventure. Can’t wait to go back and get properly soaked again.