I finally made it to Padstow after that daft little mishap on the A30 – took a wrong turn near Bodmin and ended up looping through some tiny lanes with hedges scraping the sides of the car. Heart in my mouth for a minute, but it added to the adventure, didn't it? By the time I pulled up to the holiday park, I was buzzing with anticipation, imagining lazy coastal strolls and pasties from Rick Stein's place. First impressions? Spot on. It's a cosy chalet-style spot, all welcoming and tucked into the landscape, with that perfect holiday vibe right from the off.

Next morning, I laced up my boots for what I thought would be a cracking hike along the Camel Trail. The sun was peeking out, rare for Cornwall in autumn, so off I went, pedalling a bike hire at first to cover ground before switching to foot. That trail's a belter – flat and easy along the estuary, with the river sparkling and seals popping up now and then. I wandered past Trevibban, spotting herons and feeling properly at one with it all. Grabbed a coffee at the little café en route, chatting with locals about the best pasty spots. Felt like I'd been there forever.

But oh, British weather – you cheeky devil. By afternoon, the skies turned proper moody, wind whipping in from the Camel Estuary. Plans for a longer trek to Rock went out the window; instead, I hunkered down for a rainy ramble closer to base. The park's paths wind through woods and down to the water's edge, and even in the drizzle, it was magic. Puddles everywhere, but I splashed on, laughing at myself slipping about like a Bambi on ice. That gentle self-reflection hit me then – why do I always pack the wrong coat? One too thin for gales, the other a sweaty nylon nightmare. Lesson learned: layers, mate, layers.

Day two, weather gods smiled again. Blue skies for a proper coastal hike towards Daymer Bay, just a couple of miles up. The cliffs aren't massive, but the views over the Atlantic are epic – waves crashing, gulls wheeling. I timed it for low tide, picking my way along the beach, dodging jellyfish washed up from the storm. Stopped for a cream tea at a beach hut café, proper job. Afternoon brought spots of rain, so I cut it short, heading back via the park's woodland trails. Muddy as anything, but that's the joy, innit? Those squelchy moments remind you you're alive.

Last day, classic Cornish mix: morning mist lifting to sun, then a downpour mid-hike. Stuck to the estuary paths near Wadebridge end of the trail – shorter loop, but packed with wildlife. Saw a kingfisher dart across the water, which made the soggy socks worthwhile. Weather flipped my grand plans into bite-sized gems, forcing me to savour the close-up stuff. Honestly, that's the charm of Padstow holidays – no epic treks needed when you've got this on your doorstep. Already plotting a return, better prepared for the rain. What a tonic.