I’ll never forget the drive over to Anglesey – we’d packed the car to the gills with wellies, waterproofs, and enough tea bags to last a siege, but about halfway across the Britannia Bridge, the sat-nav decided to throw a wobbly and sent us on a daft detour through some narrow lanes that had me gripping the wheel like it was a lifeline. A quick squabble with the map app later, and we were back on track, hearts racing a bit but buzzing with that holiday anticipation. As we crested the hill towards Holyhead, the sea sparkled below, and I could already picture lazy coastal rambles ahead.

Pulling up to our spot, we were gobsmacked by the first impressions. It’s this cracking first-floor self-catering seaside apartment in a detached property, perched high up with jaw-dropping views straight over the waves to the countryside and Holyhead Mountain in the distance. Clean, comfy, and done up in a fresh seaside style that made you feel right at home – think light and airy sitting room with patio doors spilling out onto a Juliet balcony for that perfect cuppa with a view. The kitchen’s modern and kitted out nicely, ideal for a proper brekkie before heading out, and the bedrooms? Cosy as anything, both with sea glimpses past the neighbours. We dumped the bags and cracked open a window to let the salty breeze in – pure bliss.

First full day, the weather was on its best behaviour: blue skies, gentle breeze, so we laced up and tackled the coastal path from right nearby, winding along the cliffs towards South Stack Lighthouse. It’s only a couple of miles out, but those puffin-spotting clifftops and crashing waves had us grinning like kids. I even managed a cheeky picnic of cheese rolls on a bench, watching gulls wheel about. But oh, the British weather – it’s got a wicked sense of humour. Next morning, we woke to lashing rain and a wind that could strip paint. No point battling that for a long hike, so we adapted: a brisk yomp around the breakwater instead, hoods up, dodging puddles the size of lakes. Laughing at how sodden we got, we dashed back for hot mugs of builder’s tea in the sitting room, balcony doors rattling like they were in on the joke.

By afternoon, it cleared just enough for a proper adventure – the path up to Holyhead Mountain itself, that rugged beast looming over us. It’s a steepish 3-mile there-and-back from the apartment’s elevated spot, rewarded with panoramas that make you forget the huffing. Halfway up, the clouds parted dramatically, turning the whole sea gold. But true to form, as we descended, the heavens opened again, soaking us to the skin. We squelched home, steaming up the kitchen windows while rustling up pasta. Looking back, that’s the magic of Anglesey walks – the weather keeps you on your toes, mixing triumph with a good drenching. Made me reflect a bit, too: rushing through life back home, I forget how these simple, soggy treks recharge the soul. We did it all over again the next day, rain or shine, and left fitter, happier, and plotting our return. What a spot.