I’ll never forget the drive down to our holiday spot in the South Hams countryside. We’d piled into the car in Bristol, full of beans after a fry-up, with the sat-nav promising a smooth two-and-a-half hours. But oh no, halfway through, I took a wrong turn near Totnes – classic me, always too busy fiddling with the playlist – and we ended up on some narrow lane that seemed to twist into oblivion. The hedges were swallowing us whole, and just when I thought we’d be sleeping in a field, we popped out right at the property. What a relief! And talk about first impressions – this luxurious retreat, designed by that award-winning architect Roderick James, hit us like a dream. Chic interiors, open-plan living that screams cosiness, with a cracking woodburning stove and those massive bi-fold doors spilling out onto a balcony that wraps around two sides. We dumped the bags, cracked open some bubbly by the kitchen island, and flopped on the blue sofas, grinning like idiots. Perfect for our group of eight.

From there, the real magic kicked off – not the obvious tourist traps, mind, but those hidden gems you stumble on when you let yourself get properly lost. First morning, fancying a wander, we followed a footpath from the door that the owners had casually mentioned. No map, just vibes. It led us through lush valleys to a tucked-away creek on the Dart River, where the water was so still you could skim stones for hours without seeing another soul. We picnicked on pasties from a nearby farm shop – proper Cornish ones, flaky and steaming – and watched herons fish like pros. Pure bliss, and we’d have missed it if we hadn’t veered off the main track.

Next day, same story: a wrong turn on the lanes around Ashprington, and suddenly we’re at this secret orchard bursting with wonky apple trees. Turns out it’s a local’s patch they let walkers pick from – free windfalls for scrumping into cider later that evening back at the retreat. Laughed our heads off when I nearly toppled into a ditch chasing the juiciest one. Then there was the accidental discovery of a wildflower meadow by Tuckenhay, just a mile or so away, carpeted in blues and yellows come late summer. We sprawled out, sipping tea from a flask, feeling miles from anywhere. No crowds, no coach parties – just us, the buzz of bees, and that gentle Devon breeze.

Getting lost like that forced a bit of reflection, didn’t it? Back home, life’s all rush and routines; out here, ditching the plan taught me to embrace the detour. One evening, as we gathered on the balcony watching the sun dip over the hills, chef-of-the-group rustled up a feast while we chatted and clinked glasses. It wasn’t about ticking boxes – it was those serendipitous spots, found by muddling through the maze of lanes, that made the week unforgettable. If you’re after a stylish getaway that rewards the wanderer, this corner of Devon’s your spot. We’re already plotting a return.