I’ll never forget the drive up to Inverness – rain lashing the windscreen like it had a personal grudge, and then, just past Aviemore, the sat-nav decided to throw a wobbly and sent us down a muddy track that looked more like a sheep’s shortcut than a road. We ended up stuck for a good half-hour, laughing hysterically as we reversed out, covered in splatters of Highland muck. But oh, the anticipation built from there – visions of misty lochs and Nessie sightings dancing in my head as we finally rolled into town, hearts racing for what lay ahead.

Pulling up to our ground-floor apartment near the River Ness felt like stumbling on a proper gem right off the bat. Roadside parking was a godsend after our earlier fiasco, and stepping inside, we were hit with this cosy living/dining room that screamed “kick off your boots and stay a while.” A mounted telly for lazy evenings, a table perfect for four of us to squeeze around for pasta nights or Monopoly marathons – it was spot-on for our little crew. The kitchen had everything: from a decent oven to that one quirky mug with a thistle on it that made us chuckle. First impressions? Bloody brilliant, even if I’m not supposed to say that.

We’d come for Loch Ness, of course, but the real magic happened when we ditched the tourist traps and let ourselves get properly lost. Day one, instead of queuing for the monster-spotting cruises, we wandered off down a unmarked path by the river, away from the Ness Islands crowds. It led to this hidden wee spot where the water pooled into a glassy bend, otters popping up like cheeky locals saying hello. No signs, no coach parties – just us, a thermos of tea, and the kind of peace that makes you forget the world.

The next mishap-turned-treasure was on a hike from Dores Beach. We took a “shortcut” (famous last words) that veered off the main trail into tangled woods, emerging at a secluded bay with views across the loch that knocked the wind out of us. Picnicked on cheese rolls from the apartment kitchen, watching the water shift from grey to gold as the sun peeked out. Pure fluke, but isn’t that the joy? Getting lost opened up these off-the-beaten-path pockets – like the forgotten kirkyard we stumbled on near the river, overgrown with wildflowers and stories etched in weathered stones, far from the Inverness bustle.

One evening, after a day of aimless ambling, we gathered in that living room, board game out, sharing tales of our accidental discoveries. I caught myself reflecting – how often do we chase the big sights and miss the quiet wonders? This trip, with its sat-nav betrayal and serendipitous detours, reminded me that the best holidays aren’t planned to death. They’re the ones where you let the Highlands lead you astray. If you’re heading this way, pack your sense of adventure and embrace the getting lost – you might just find your own hidden Loch Ness treasures.