I’ll never forget the drive up to Loch Goil in late autumn – that crisp October chill in the air, turning the leaves into a riot of gold and copper as we wound our way through the Trossachs. We’d set off from Glasgow full of beans, sandwiches packed and the sat-nav promising a smooth hour-and-a-half jaunt. But no, halfway there, I took a wrong turn onto some single-track road that had me white-knuckling the wheel past a herd of sheep who looked at me like I was the intruder. A classic me moment – always the one to add a bit of unplanned excitement. Still, by the time we emerged, hearts racing a tad, the anticipation was buzzing. Loch Lomond and the Trossachs National Park in autumn? It’s like the landscape’s putting on its finest show just for you.

Pulling up to the cottage, right on the shores of Loch Goil, my jaw dropped. This delightful spot is nestled in an idyllic position, the loch lapping gently at the garden’s edge, with mountains cloaked in misty russet hues rising behind. It’s a cosy 4-bed affair, perfect for our little crew, with that welcoming glow from the windows as dusk crept in early – autumn’s way of cosying you indoors sooner. First impressions? Pure magic. The air smelled of damp earth and pine, and as we unloaded, a red squirrel darted across the drive, tail flicking like it owned the place.

That seasonal shift shaped every minute. Mornings started with frost-kissed windows, steaming mugs of tea in hand as we watched otters play in the glassy water – the loch’s calm in autumn is unbeatable for spotting them without the summer crowds. We hired kayaks from the nearby spot in Lochgoilhead, paddling out under skies heavy with promise of rain. The chill sharpened every sense; my cheeks glowed pink, and the forests along the Cormonachan woodland walk exploded in colour. We hiked it one afternoon, leaves crunching underfoot, buzzards wheeling overhead against a backdrop of fiery bracken. I had one of those gentle what-am-I-doing-with-my-life moments halfway up – city desk job forgotten, just me, the family, and this wild beauty reminding me to breathe deeper.

Evenings were all about that autumnal hygge. Cosied by the wood-burner (bliss after a damp cycle along the shore paths), we’d tuck into Loch Fyne oysters from just up the road – briny, fresh, paired with a cheeky Fyne Ales stout. No need for far-flung jaunts; Carrick Castle, a moody ruin at the end of the 2.5-mile road, was our big outing one blustery day. Peering through the trees at its silhouette against the fading light felt like stepping into a ghost story, deer grazing nearby unbothered by us gawpers.

The short days meant early nights stargazing from the garden – no light pollution here, just the Milky Way popping out crisp and clear once the sun dipped. Sure, the odd shower had us dashing back laughing, but that’s autumn for you in Scotland: invigorating, unpolished, utterly alive. It wrapped our stay in this golden nostalgia, making every memory feel etched in amber. If you’re chasing that perfect seasonal escape, Loch Goil in the fall is it – mishaps and all.