I’ll never forget the drive down to our little hideaway in Devon – sat nav insisting we were nearly there, then suddenly we’re on this narrow lane that just… ends. Turned out I’d missed a turning in Tiverton, and we ended up in a muddy farm track, laughing our socks off as we reversed out with the kids yelling “Dad, you’ve lost us already!” But that little mishap set the tone perfectly for the week – all about stumbling on hidden corners rather than ticking off tourist lists.

Pulling up to the place just a few miles from Bampton, I was buzzing with that arrival buzz, you know? This gorgeous single-storey converted farm office, all quirky and cosy with its open-plan living and two bedrooms – spot on for me, the wife and our two little explorers. Stepped inside and wow, first impressions were ace: vaulted ceilings giving it that airy feel, and those bi-folding doors swinging open to a private courtyard with views that made you go “Yep, we’ve struck gold.” It felt like our own secret bolthole in the Devonshire countryside, far from the crowds.

From there, it was all about getting properly lost – the best kind of holiday, innit? First morning, we wandered off down unmarked footpaths from the courtyard, no map, just fancy-free. Stumbled on this tucked-away picnic spot by a babbling brook, wildflowers everywhere, perfect for cheese sarnies and paddling. The kids splashed about while we pretended we were proper explorers. “Who needs Exmoor’s big hikes when you’ve got this?” I quipped, though secretly chuffed we hadn’t planned a thing.

Next day, a wrong turn on the lanes led us to a proper gem: a tiny orchard café less than five miles off, run by this cheery old chap who sells the juiciest apple cider you’ve ever tasted – not the fizzy stuff, proper scrumpy. We sat under the trees, chatting to locals about nothing much, and it hit me how these accidental finds beat any guidebook. Got me reflecting a bit – back home I’m always rushing, glued to my phone, but here, letting the car veer off the beaten track forced me to slow down, breathe, and actually chat with my lot.

Afternoons meant more meandering: discovered a forgotten village green with a 17th-century pub doing cracking ploughman’s, then a woodland glade alive with butterflies where we built dens from fallen branches. One evening, bi-folders wide open, we barbecued in the courtyard as the sun dipped behind the hills, toasting to serendipity. Even got gently lost on a circular walk that looped back via a hidden dew pond – cows staring at us like we were the intruders.

Looking back, that’s the magic of Devon’s backroads – no Instagram hotspots, just those off-the-radar joys you uncover by ditching the plan. Left us recharged, a tad sunburnt, and plotting the next “lost” adventure. If you fancy proper escapism, hunt out a spot like this; it’ll change your holiday game.