I’ll never forget the drive down to St Ives – or rather, the near-disaster that kicked off our holiday. We’d piled into the car in the pouring rain from up country, sat-nav confidently directing us along those twisty Cornish lanes. Just as we neared Carbis Bay, a massive pothole sent us swerving like we were in a dodgy rally, splashing muddy water everywhere. Heart in my mouth, but we laughed it off, and suddenly there it was: the sea sparkling under patchy blue skies. Pulling up to our spot perched above the breathtaking sands of Carbis Bay Beach, that luxury ground-floor apartment felt like a proper treat – all comfy style and bang-on location, just a short stroll from the beach. First impressions? Bloody brilliant, even if I did have to hoover the car mats later.

We couldn’t wait to get out exploring on foot, lacing up our boots with that proper holiday buzz. Day one was a dream: bright sunshine, not a cloud in sight. We wandered down to Carbis Bay Beach first thing, toes in the sand, then followed the coastal path towards St Ives. It’s only a couple of miles, but what a hike – rugged cliffs dropping to turquoise waves, gulls wheeling overhead, and the scent of salt and seaweed everywhere. We paused at little coves for pasties from a beach kiosk (proper job, they were), watching surfers carve up the swells. By the time we reached Porthminster Beach, legs buzzing, we felt like we’d earned a cream tea at a harbourside café. Pure bliss.

But oh, the British weather – it’s got a wicked sense of humour, doesn’t it? Next morning, we planned the big one: the loop up to Clodgy Point and back via the town. Blue skies again, so off we went, striding along the South West Coast Path with the wind whipping our cheeks. St Ives glittered below, all arty galleries and fishing boats bobbing in the harbour. We poked around the Barbara Hepworth Museum gardens – free entry that day, what a score – then hiked back as the sun dipped low. Magic.

Come day three, though, the forecast turned cheeky. We eyed a misty drizzle over breakfast and thought, sod it, we’ll tough it out on a shorter jaunt to Porthkidney Sands. Big mistake. Within half an hour, it was horizontal rain lashing our faces, turning the paths into slippy slides. We sheltered under a cliff overhang, soaked to the skin, giggling like idiots while thunder rumbled out at sea. Plans for a beach barbecue? Scrapped. Instead, we dashed back to the apartment, brewed endless cups of tea, and turned it into a lazy hygge day – board games, Netflix, and peering out at the storm from our cosy perch. Honestly, it was a gentle nudge from the universe: sometimes the best adventures are the ones that force you to slow down.

Reflecting on it now, that weather flip taught me a thing or two. I’m always chasing the perfect plan, but Cornwall’s hikes – rain or shine – remind you life’s about rolling with the squalls. We squeezed in one last sunny ramble along the bay at dusk, seals barking in the distance, before packing up. St Ives on foot? Unbeatable. Can’t wait to go back.