We set off from the mainland in good spirits, the SatNav promising a straightforward hop across the Menai and on to Cemaes Bay. Somewhere past Amlwch the signal dropped, the road narrowed to a single track, and I confidently took what looked like a handy shortcut. Twenty minutes later we were reversing into a farm gateway while a flock of curious sheep watched us like we’d gate-crashed their afternoon. By the time we finally rolled up the gravel drive of Smithy Cottage, the sun was low and the kettle was calling.

The cottage itself felt like it had been waiting for us. Whitewashed walls, slate roof, a little porch just wide enough for two mugs and a view straight over the dunes. Inside, everything smelled faintly of woodsmoke and sea air. We dumped the bags, flicked the kettle on, and decided the best plan was no plan at all.

Wandering down the lane with no particular destination, we noticed a half-hidden stile tucked behind a hedge. One field led to another, and before long we were following a ribbon of sheep track that dipped and rose along the clifftop. Gulls wheeled below us, the sea a restless blue-green. We hadn’t meant to walk far, yet every bend revealed another pocket of coast we hadn’t seen on any map app.

A sudden gust nearly whipped my cap into the waves, which felt like nature’s way of reminding me who was in charge. We laughed, turned inland for shelter, and promptly got properly lost among bracken and low stone walls. What started as mild panic soon turned into mild delight when the path spat us out beside a tiny, almost circular cove. No one else was there, just driftwood, rock pools, and the sort of quiet that makes you check your phone signal out of habit, then put it away again.

We sat on a sun-warmed slab and watched a cormorant dry its wings on a half-submerged boulder. It struck me how easy it is, these days, to plan every hour of a holiday and still miss the bits that actually stick in memory. Getting slightly lost had handed us an afternoon that no itinerary could have improved.

By the time we wandered back, the light had turned honey-gold over the fields. Smithy Cottage welcomed us with the same calm it had offered on arrival, as if our small adventure was exactly what it had expected all along.