I’ll never forget the drive up to Loch Lomond – or rather, the bit where I took a wrong turn just past Helensburgh and ended up on a single-track road that seemed to lead nowhere. Satnav was having a right old paddy, beeping away as branches scraped the car roof, and I was convinced we’d end up in someone’s cow field. But that little mishap was the perfect start to our holiday; it forced us off the main drag and straight into the magic of getting properly lost around Cove.

Finally rolling up to our elevated cottage, hearts still thumping from the drive, we were gobsmacked by the first impressions. Perched high with views stretching over Loch Long, it felt like our own secret lookout post. The anticipation built as we unpacked – would the loch deliver on its promise? It did, and then some. From the deck, the water sparkled like it was winking at us, and the village below buzzed quietly with that easy Scottish charm.

We didn’t bother with the obvious spots; instead, we let curiosity lead, stumbling on hidden gems by accident. First day, a wander down a unmarked path near Cove took us to a tucked-away cove on Loch Long – not a soul around, just us, the lapping water, and a family of seals popping up like cheeky neighbours. Perfect for a spontaneous kayak hire from a bloke at the shore who looked like he’d been born on the water. We paddled out, dodging little whirlpools, laughing as I nearly capsized trying to selfie with the seals.

Next morning, aiming for Linn Botanic Gardens (which we’d heard was lush thanks to that Gulf Stream warmth), we veered off down a dirt track after spotting a faded sign for “secret gardens.” Turned out to be Glen Arn Garden, this lush, forgotten paradise dripping with exotic ferns and rhododendrons. No crowds, just the hum of bees and a bench where we picnicked, feeling like explorers. I had a quiet moment there, munching my cheese roll, reflecting on how often I barrel through life on autopilot – getting lost like this was the best reset button.

Hiking north, we ignored the main Trossachs trails and followed a sheep path that dead-ended at a misty waterfall hidden in a glen. No map, no plan, just the thrill of discovery. Even a mountain bike scoot around Cove’s back lanes unearthed a wildflower meadow with views over Gare Loch that stopped us in our tracks. One evening, winds picked up, so we tried windsurfing on Loch Long – me flailing hilariously while my other half carved the waves like a pro. We wrapped up with fish suppers from a hole-in-the-wall spot in the village, toasting to serendipity.

That week of accidental adventures reminded me holidays aren’t about ticking boxes; they’re about the detours. Loch Lomond’s off-the-beaten-path corners stole our hearts – can’t wait to get lost there again.