I’ll never forget the drive to our holiday spot in County Kerry – we’d piled into the car in Killarney after a faff with the satnav that insisted on taking us via some sheep-dotted back lane, resulting in a minor comedy of errors where we ended up reversing into a ditch. A quick tow from a local farmer (cheers, Paddy!) and we were back on track, hearts racing but buzzing with anticipation. As we wound towards Cullenagh Upper in Beaufort, at the foot of the Macgillycuddy’s Reeks and Carrauntoohil, the landscape unfolded like a postcard – those dramatic peaks looming, promising epic walks right from the doorstep.

Pulling onto the private driveway, my first impressions were spot on. This fabulous four-bedroom house felt like a proper home away from home, all traditionally furnished with an open-plan living space that screamed cosiness. The well-equipped kitchen flowed into a dedicated dining area and a homely sitting room with a double-sided woodburning stove – perfect for drying off after a soggy hike. There was even a light-flooded sunroom for a cuppa and a book, and outside, an enclosed pet-friendly garden begging for al fresco lunches. With nine of us (extended family chaos included), it was ideal, just a short hop from the Gap of Dunloe and Killarney National Park.

Our week revolved around walking, those Reeks calling us out every day. First morning, blue skies! We tackled a gentle loop from the house towards the Gap of Dunloe – about four miles of lush green valleys, gushing streams, and views that had us stopping every five minutes for photos. The kids raced ahead, pretending to be mountain goats, while I lagged behind, huffing a bit but grinning ear to ear. Lunch in the garden tasted like heaven after that.

But oh, the British weather – sorry, Irish version – had other ideas mid-week. A proper deluge rolled in, turning our planned ascent towards Carrauntoohil’s lower slopes into a muddy slip-and-slide. We’d geared up for a solid six-miler, but within half an hour, it was horizontal rain and wind that could peel paint. Laughing hysterically (and slightly hysterically), we aborted to the sunroom, towels everywhere, stove roaring. It forced a rethink – next day, we stuck closer, doing a sheltered valley ramble near Beaufort, maybe three miles of babbling brooks and wildflowers, dodging the worst of the showers. Turned out brilliant; the rain-fresh air made everything pop, and we spotted a family of deer that had us all whispering like kids.

One evening, post-hike in drizzle, nursing blisters by the fire, I had a quiet moment of reflection. Here I was, mid-40s, usually glued to a desk, yet out in this wild Kerry beauty, soaked but alive. It hit me – these changeable days, good and bad, are what make the walks memorable, plans be damned. We ended with a cracker: a crisp morning tramp along paths skirting the national park edge, summits peeking through mist, before the heavens opened again. Back at the house, stove lit, stories swapped – pure magic. Kerry’s walks had us hooked; we’re already plotting a return, raincoats at the ready.