I’ll never forget the drive up to the Isle of Skye – a proper adventure in itself. We’d piled into the car in Inverness early doors, full of beans about our week in a cracking detached cottage near Sconser, but about halfway across the bridge, disaster struck. The sat-nav decided to throw a wobbly and sent us on a daft detour down some single-track road that had us white-knuckling it past sheep and the odd startled deer. By the time we rolled up, we were knackered but buzzing with that arrival anticipation you get when you’ve finally made it to paradise.

First impressions? Blimey, what a spot. Perched on a hillside with southerly views across to Raasay and the mainland mountains, this immaculately-presented place screamed cosy getaway. Portree’s just 12 miles away, but you feel miles from it all. Two bright bedrooms – a double and a twin with a smashing en-suite – and that open-plan living room with its massive picture window over the loch? Pure magic. We dumped the bags and cracked open a brew, staring out as the sun dipped low, already plotting our walking adventures.

Skye’s a walker’s dream, innit? We kicked off with a gentle hike along the Sconser shoreline path the next morning – clear skies, perfect for ambling by the water, spotting seals bobbing about and breathing in that crisp sea air. Lunch was packed butties on a rocky outcrop, feeling like proper explorers. But oh, the British weather – it’s got a wicked sense of humour. Come afternoon, the clouds rolled in thick as fog, turning our planned loop up the hillside into a squelchy scramble. We laughed it off, hoods up, slipping on wet grass, but secretly cursing the midges that fancied us for dinner.

Next day, proper dreich – horizontal rain lashing the windows. Plans for the Raasay views trail? Scrubbed. Instead, we layered up and tackled a shorter loop from the cottage door, right into the township’s wild bits. Muddy boots galore, but those dramatic hillsides peeking through the mist made it worth it. I had a proper moment of self-reflection plodding along solo for a bit – rain drumming on my hood, thinking how these soggy slogs remind you life’s not about blue skies every day. You adapt, you appreciate the rugged beauty, and you come home grinning.

By midweek, the weather played nice again. We ventured a bit further along the coastal path towards Breakish, about four miles out – heather underfoot, eagles soaring overhead. Epic views back to our hillside perch. But wouldn’t you know, a sudden squall hit on the way back, forcing us into an impromptu shelter under some overhanging rocks, sharing daft stories till it passed. That’s Skye for you – hikes that flex with the forecasts, from sun-kissed strolls to full-on wet-weather warriors.

Looking back, those weather-whipped walks were the highlight. The cottage was spot-on for drying off, collapsing into that sociable living space with loch views and a cheeky whisky. Skye doesn’t do predictable, but that’s what makes it brilliant. Can’t wait to go back and let the rain dictate the next ramble.