I’ll never forget the drive up to Glencoe this past autumn – the leaves were turning that fiery mix of gold and crimson, carpeting the hills like someone had spilled a painter’s palette. Me and the family piled into the car from Fort William, buzzing with that holiday excitement, but about halfway there, disaster struck: a puncture from one of those sneaky Highland potholes. There we were, faffing about on the roadside with the rain spitting down, me holding an umbrella that kept flipping inside out like a drunk seagull. Took us an hour to sort, but honestly, it just made the arrival feel even sweeter.

Pulling into Onich village just as the low autumn sun dipped behind the peaks, my heart did a little flip. We’d been dreaming of this cosy semi-detached cottage all week – neutrally done with those serene vibes, perfect for a family unwind. Stepping inside, the open-plan sitting and dining area hit us like a warm hug: comfy seating, a well-equipped kitchen, and those light blue tones popping against the earthy neutrals, making the whole space feel alive even on a drizzly day. Upstairs, the double bedroom with its elegant styling and quirky wall art promised proper kip after days of tramping about.

Autumn shaped every minute of our stay here. Mornings started misty, the loch shrouded in fog that lifted to reveal Ben Nevis looming like a grumpy giant across the water – we’d sip tea in the sitting area, watching deer pick their way down the slopes, their coats blending with the bracken. One day, we hiked the short path to the Glencoe Visitor Centre, no more than a couple of miles up the road, crunching through fallen leaves that smelled like bonfire nights back home. The centre’s exhibits on the massacre felt extra eerie in the cooling air, with wind whistling through the exhibits like ghostly bagpipes. Lunch was packed sandwiches on a bench overlooking the Three Sisters, their peaks softened by the season’s haze – pure magic, though I did slip on a wet rock and ended up with a soggy bum. Classic me.

Evenings were for cosying up as the light faded early – around 4pm, the cottage glowed with that inviting warmth, us lot gathered round the dining table for hearty stews from the kitchen, sharing daft stories while the windows framed the darkening glens. One night, a proper Highland downpour battered the panes, turning the world outside into a watery blur, but inside it was bliss, board games and hot chocolate till bedtime.

Reflecting on it now, that puncture was a blessing – it slowed us down, made us appreciate the autumn rhythm: shorter days forcing us to savour the quiet moments, the vivid colours popping before winter’s grey sets in. Glencoe in fall isn’t just beautiful; it’s a reminder to breathe deep and let the season wrap around you. We’re already plotting a return next year.