We set off for Blue Bay Villa just after lunch, the car packed with the usual holiday chaos of wellies, board games and far too many snacks. The drive across Anglesey was straightforward enough until we took what we thought was a clever shortcut and ended up on a single-track lane that promptly narrowed into a hedge. A tractor appeared from nowhere, the driver looking thoroughly unimpressed, and we spent an awkward few minutes reversing into a gateway while apologising through the window. By the time we finally pulled up at the villa, the September sun was already dipping low, casting that soft golden light over the dunes that only happens once the summer crowds have gone.

Stepping out of the car, the first thing that hit me was the quiet. Not complete silence, but the gentle hush of a beach that’s winding down for the year. The air felt cooler than it had on the mainland, carrying that unmistakable tang of salt and seaweed. Blue Bay Villa itself looked exactly as we’d hoped: a solid, whitewashed cottage tucked just behind the dunes, with a little wooden porch that caught the last of the warmth. The garden was still dotted with late-blooming roses and the kind of sturdy grass that doesn’t mind a stiff breeze.

Inside, everything felt ready for the season. The owners had left the heating on low, and there was a stack of logs beside the wood burner that made me immediately picture rainy afternoons. We unpacked quickly, drawn back outside by the light. The tide was well out, leaving vast stretches of damp sand that reflected the sky like a mirror. A few dog walkers wandered along the shoreline, their voices carrying faintly on the wind, but otherwise we had the place to ourselves. Even the gulls seemed less frantic than they do in August, circling in lazy arcs rather than squabbling over chips.

That first evening set the tone for the whole stay. We wandered down to the beach with mugs of tea, watching the sun slip behind Holyhead Mountain. The temperature dropped quickly once the light faded, and we were glad of the jumpers we’d almost left behind. Back at the villa, we lit the fire and ate a simple supper while listening to the waves through the open window. There’s something about arriving in early autumn that makes you slow down without even meaning to. The days still feel long enough for a proper walk, but the evenings nudge you indoors earlier, towards warmth and conversation.

I found myself reflecting, as I often do on these trips, how easy it is to rush through holidays without noticing the season doing half the work. Here, the cooler air and quieter beach did the deciding for us. We spent the next few days walking the coastal path in one direction or another, never straying far, content to let the weather shape our plans. One afternoon we even managed a quick swim, the water bracing but oddly refreshing after the walk back. By the time we left, the villa already felt familiar, the sort of place you could return to in any month and find something new in the light.