I’ll never forget the drive down to St Ives – or rather, the near-disaster that kicked it off. We’d piled into the car from Bristol, kids buzzing with excitement about pasties and beaches, when halfway through Devon, the sat-nav decided to throw a wobbly. It routed us down some tiny lane that turned into a single-track mudslide after a sneaky shower. Hearts in mouths, we reversed for what felt like miles, laughing nervously as a local farmer gave us a cheery wave. But oh, the anticipation built from there – visions of salty sea air and clifftop walks had us grinning by the time we hit Cornwall.

Pulling up to our detached holiday home near Carbis Bay beach felt like striking gold. First impressions? Spot on. Off-road parking for four cars meant no faffing about with street spaces, and with the dog in tow, we were sorted. Inside, the generous kitchen/diner was a dream – everything you’d need to whip up a feast, with a big table for yakking over breakfast. Next door, the comfy living area had us flopping onto sofas, Smart TV flickering as we planned our first hike.

Day one dawned bright, so we laced up and headed straight for the South West Coast Path from Carbis Bay. It’s a cracker of a walk – gentle at first, hugging the cliffs with turquoise waves crashing below. We spotted seals lounging on the rocks, the kids whooping as we detoured to Porthkidney Sands for a paddle. Proper idyllic, that. But British weather, eh? By afternoon, clouds rolled in thick as clag, turning our sunny stroll into a squelchy scramble. We pressed on to St Ives, emerging windswept and soggy, rewarded with fish and chips from a harbourside stall. Sat on the harbour wall, chips steaming in the drizzle, we chuckled at how the path’s ups and downs mirrored life’s little surprises.

Next morning, grey skies had us rethinking. No clifftop epics today – instead, a low-tide wander along the sands from Carbis Bay to the Hayle estuary. Muddy patches had us slipping about like Bambi on ice (me most of all – graceful as ever), but the dog loved it, splashing through rock pools while we hunted for crabs. Lunch back at the house, rustling up soup in that brilliant kitchen, felt cosy as anything. Afternoon brought a break in the clouds, so we nipped out for the short hop to Porthminster Beach. The path there’s a belter – wildflowers nodding in the breeze, gulls wheeling overhead. We timed it for low tide, racing the sea back along the shore as it turned.

Reflecting on it now, those weather flips were the real magic. Sunny hikes left us buzzing, but the rainy ones? They forced us to slow down, chat more, appreciate the rugged beauty up close. One evening, rain lashing the windows, we gathered round the dining table with board games and hot chocolate, pondering how a bit of Cornish drizzle makes everything taste sweeter. By week’s end, we’d clocked miles of path in all weathers, fitter, closer, and already plotting a return. St Ives walks – come rain or shine, they’ve got you hooked.