I’ll never forget the drive up to Fort William – or rather, the bit just before Kinlochleven where everything went a tad pear-shaped. We’d set off from Glasgow full of beans, me belting out some dodgy karaoke to the radio while my mate Dave navigated on his phone. But as the road twisted into the Highlands, the signal vanished, and suddenly we were following a “shortcut” that turned into a single-track nightmare. Bumper-deep in mud from a sneaky pothole, we spent half an hour laughing hysterically while digging ourselves out with a camping spade. By the time we rolled up, hearts racing with that mix of relief and excitement, the sun was dipping behind the Mamores, and there it was: this cracking architect-designed retreat, straight out of Channel 4’s Grand Designs. A proper Scandinavian-inspired hideaway, all sleek lines and floor-to-ceiling windows framing those epic mountain views. Secluded, luxurious, tranquil – our first impressions? Blown away. It felt like we’d stumbled into our own private slice of Highland heaven.

Settling in that first evening, with a brew in hand and the peaks glowing pink, I couldn’t shake the anticipation buzzing through me. Fort William’s got its tourist hotspots, sure, but staying here made me itch to uncover the proper hidden gems – those off-the-beaten-track spots you only find when you let the sat-nav gather dust and just wander. And wander we did. Next morning, instead of heading straight to the obvious trails, we took a wrong turn down a barely-there path from the property gate. What a fluke! It led us to a tucked-away loch I’d never heard of, mirror-still and ringed by heather, perfect for a impromptu paddle in the crystal water. No crowds, just us, a couple of eagles overhead, and the kind of peace that makes city life feel like a bad dream.

The real magic kicked in when we embraced getting properly lost. One afternoon, aiming for the Mamores’ lower slopes, we veered off onto a deer track that spat us out at this secret cascade – a thundering waterfall tucked in a glen so narrow you’d miss it unless you were mapless and daft like us. We picnicked on its mossy banks, feet dangling in the icy spray, chuckling about how Dave’s “innate sense of direction” had gifted us this gem. Another day, a meandering hike from the retreat turned into a serendipitous loop past an old bothy, half-swallowed by ferns, where we imagined the shepherds who once hunkered down there. It was one of those moments that had me pausing for a gentle think: how often do we bulldoze through holidays on rails? Getting lost here forced me to slow down, breathe deeper, and actually notice the wild beauty right under my nose.

Evenings back at the property wrapped it all up perfectly – cosying up with the views, a dram or two, reflecting on our accidental adventures. We found a fairy glen by pure chance, its ancient birches dripping with lichen like something from a storybook, and a wee beach on Loch Leven where the stones skipped like they were greased. No big-name spots, just these quiet wonders that made the stay unforgettable. If you’re after luxury that whispers rather than shouts, and a holiday laced with happy accidents, this is your spot. I’m already plotting a return – hopefully with fewer potholes.