I’ll never forget the drive up to Kingussie – we’d piled into the car from Inverness, full of excitement for a proper Highland getaway, only for the sat-nav to chuck us down a cheeky single-track road that had us white-knuckling it past a flock of sheep. One wrong move and we’d have been the main course for the local farmer’s lunch! Still, we arrived in one piece, buzzing with anticipation, and the first glimpse of our stylish three-storey lodge in the heart of the village had us grinning like kids at Christmas. It looked perfect – off-road parking for days (we didn’t need space for six cars, mind, but it felt dead posh), and with our two daft dogs in tow, it was spot on for our family rabble.

Stepping inside, the spacious kitchen hit us first – fully kitted out with everything you’d need to rustle up a feast, and that massive dining room seating 20? Ideal for our lot, even if we only filled half the chairs. There was a utility room with a washing machine for all the inevitable muddy gear, and a separate fridge/freezer in the garage for stocking up on essentials. We dumped the bags and headed straight out for a wander, dogs on leads, ready to tackle the Cairngorms.

First day was a belter – clear skies, crisp air, the kind that makes you feel invincible. We stomped off on the easy trail up to Ruigh-aiteachain bothy, just a couple of miles out, marvelling at the heather-strewn hills and the odd red deer bounding away. The views over the Spey Valley were pure magic; we picnicked by a burn, laughing as the dogs splashed about like loons. I felt a proper sense of calm there, you know? Away from the daily grind, just breathing it all in – a rare moment of self-reflection where I thought, “Blimey, we should do this more often.”

But oh, the Scottish weather – it’s got a right sense of humour. Next morning, the heavens opened, turning our planned hike to the Lairig Ghru into a non-starter. No way were we trudging through that downpour; instead, we adapted with a shorter loop around the Loch an Eilein trailhead paths, closer to home base. Ponchos on, wellies squelching, we sloshed along woodland tracks, dodging puddles the size of small lochs. The rain hammered down, but there’s something brilliant about it – the scent of wet pine, the misty hills unfolding like a watercolour painting. The dogs loved it, of course, coming back looking like drowned rats, which had us in stitches towelling them off in the utility room.

By afternoon, the clouds parted just enough for another go: a brisk yomp up Creag Bheag, the views peeking through breaks in the weather. One minute glorious sun, the next a squall blasting us sideways – classic Highlands. We cut it short when hail started pinging off our hoods, retreating to the lodge for hot teas and board games in that epic dining space. It forced us to slow down, chat properly, and appreciate the cosy vibes.

Those walking adventures, rain or shine, made the trip. The weather flipped plans on a dime, but that’s the joy of it – keeps you on your toes, humble, and grinning through the grit. We left fitter, muddier, and already plotting the next rainy ramble. Proper tonic for the soul.