I’ll never forget the drive down to Padstow – or rather, the bit just before we got there. We’d piled into the car from Bristol, kids in the back squabbling over crisps, the dog’s head out the window, and me navigating with a dodgy signal on my phone. Naturally, I took a wrong turn somewhere near Bodmin, ending up on a narrow lane that seemed to twist into oblivion. Branches scraped the roof, and I started muttering about Cornish hedges being out to get us. Half an hour later, we emerged laughing, right on time for check-in, hearts racing with that proper holiday buzz. As we pulled up, I could already feel the anticipation bubbling – this was going to be brilliant.

The place we’d booked was the kind of space you immediately settle into and feel at home. Once part of the Lanhydrock Estate, this fantastic property is designed with comfort in mind and is packed with modern features that lend a real sense of luxury while still retaining a lot of its original character. It’s also pet friendly, meaning guests with four-legged friends can bring them along on holiday to enjoy a break too, with many wonderful walks in the area offering them plenty of opportunity for adventure. First impressions? Spot on. Cosy corners, a cracking kitchen, and views that made you want to kick off your shoes and crack open a pasty. We dumped the bags and headed out, dog leash in hand, no itinerary, just a vague plan to wander.

That’s when the magic happened – or rather, when getting lost became our best mate. Padstow’s got its famous spots, like the harbour and Rick Stein’s haunts, but we stumbled on the real treasures by accident. First day, we veered off the main path towards Lanhydrock’s edges, following a sign for a “public footpath” that looked half-forgotten. It led us to this hidden creek, barely a ripple on any map, where the water was so clear you could see tiny fish darting about. We picnicked there, the dog splashing like a loon, and I thought, “Why do we ever follow the crowds?” Pure bliss, no one else around.

Next morning, another wrong turn – this time chasing a glimpse of the Camel Estuary. Instead of the touristy bits, we ended up on a scrubby trail near St Enodoc’s church, tucked away in the dunes. It’s this ancient golf course hideaway, with the church peeking out like it’s playing hide-and-seek. We got gloriously lost among the gorse bushes, emerging at a secluded beach cove where seals bobbed offshore. The kids built epic sandcastles, and I had one of those quiet moments, sat on a rock with a thermos of tea, reflecting on how daft it is to stick to the straight and narrow back home. Life’s too short for sat-nav obedience.

Evenings back at the barn were for unwinding – wood burner going, sharing tales of our “adventures.” One night, a detour down a farm track revealed a wildflower meadow buzzing with bees, perfect for sunset dog walks. We found blackberries by the bucketful, stained fingers and all. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was ours – those off-the-beaten-track gems that make you feel like you’ve nicked a secret from Cornwall itself.

By the end of the week, we’d barely scratched Padstow proper, but who cares? Getting lost taught me more than any guidebook could. If you’re after proper holiday vibes, ditch the map and let the lanes lead you. We’re already plotting a return.