I’ll never forget the drive down to our holiday bungalow near Rosscarbery – we’d piled into the car in Cork city full of excitement, sandwiches packed and the satnav promising a smooth two-hour jaunt. But oh no, about halfway there, I took a wrong turn onto some narrow back lane that twisted like a pretzel through the hills. The missus was fuming, kids in the back chanting “Are we lost yet?”, and me pretending I knew exactly where I was going. Classic me, turning a simple journey into an unplanned adventure. Half an hour later, we stumbled out onto the coast road, hearts racing a bit, but buzzing with that “we’ve conquered Ireland already” vibe.

Pulling up to the place – a cosy three-bedroom bungalow just 0.7 miles from Rosscarbery – we were gobsmacked by the first impressions. Private parking for three cars right outside, and those views over Warren Beach and Smugglers Cove? Pure magic. I parked up, cracked open a window, and just stood there soaking it in – the sea sparkling, gulls wheeling about, and not a soul in sight. Stepping inside felt like hugging an old mate: plush sofas in the sitting room with a telly for rainy days, and a cracking kitchen-diner kitted out with everything a self-catering crew could need. Ample table for family feasts, nifty gadgets that made me feel like a proper chef (well, for about five minutes).

What turned this trip into gold, though, wasn’t the planned stuff – it was all the hidden gems we tripped over by accident, thanks to my dodgy sense of direction. First morning, I nipped out for milk and ended up lost in the lanes around Maul village. Stumbled on this tiny, off-the-beaten-track cove you’d never find on a map – calmer than Warren Beach, with rock pools teeming with crabs that had the kids squealing for hours. We picnicked there, feet dangling in the shallows, feeling like we’d discovered Narnia.

Later that week, another “shortcut” to Rosscarbery led us to a secret smugglers’ path hugging Smugglers Cove. Narrow as a goat track, overgrown with ferns, it spat us out at a wildflower meadow with views that stopped you in your tracks. We wandered for ages, spotting seals bobbing offshore, and laughed about how getting lost was the best bit. Even found a weathered old bench – perfect for a thermos of tea and pretending we were locals. One evening, aiming for the village shop, we veered off into a woodsy trail that opened onto a freshwater lake hidden from the road. Ducks quacking, dragonflies darting – utter bliss, and not another tourist in sight.

Don’t get me wrong, there were fish and chips in Rosscarbery that hit the spot, but those serendipitous spots? They made the holiday. Made me reflect, too – I’m always rushing about at home, glued to the satnav of life. Here, getting lost taught me to slow down, breathe the sea air, and let the magic unfold. If you’re after a proper Irish escape, grab a bungalow like this, ditch the plans, and see where the lanes take you. You won’t regret it.