I’ll never forget the drive to our holiday cottage near Barmouth last autumn – the leaves were turning that gorgeous coppery gold, carpeting the roads through Snowdonia like nature’s own welcome mat. We’d piled into the car from Manchester, kids buzzing in the back with crisps and iPads, me navigating via a dodgy sat-nav that decided halfway through to send us down a narrow lane barely wider than our estate. Cue a classic five-point turn in the drizzle, with sheep eyeing us suspiciously from the hedges. A proper British road trip mishap, but it had us laughing by the time we emerged, windswept and ready for whatever the season threw at us next.

Pulling up to the place just outside Harlech, in that sleepy village of Llanfair, my heart did a little flip. From the elevated spot, the sea views hit you straight away – the bay shimmering under a weak October sun, Shell Island hazy in the distance towards the Llyn Peninsula. It’s a spacious detached cottage, the sort that feels like a proper home rather than a rental, with big rooms that meant we could all spread out without tripping over each other. Families or mates would love it here; even with us lot – four adults and two nippers – there was elbow room aplenty. That living-diner became our hub, gazing out over the water as the light faded early, turning the horizon all moody and purple.

Autumn shaped everything, didn’t it? The air had that crisp bite that makes a hot cuppa taste like heaven, and we’d huddle on the terrace wrapped in blankets, watching seals bob in the bay while the wind whipped the dunes on Harlech beach, just a 400-yard stroll away. No summer crowds meant we had the sands almost to ourselves – perfect for building epic castles that the tide claimed by teatime, the kids’ cheeks rosy from the chill. One afternoon, we wandered the 1.5km to Llandanwg beach, crunching through fallen leaves en route, and found this hidden cove where the waves crashed dramatically against the rocks. The season’s mellow light made it magical, like we’d stumbled into a painting.

Evenings were pure cosiness: wood-burning stove crackling (we’d stocked up on logs from the village shop), board games round the table with a hearty stew bubbling away. I had one of those quiet moments by the window, staring at the darkening sea, thinking how the shorter days force you to slow down – no faffing about till midnight like in summer, just proper family time. It’s funny; I’m usually rushing everywhere, but autumn here made me reflect on how little we need for a cracking holiday. A bit of wind, a splash of rain turning the fields vibrant, and suddenly you’re content.

We nipped into Barmouth one gusty morning – all of five minutes by car – for fish and chips wrapped in paper, eaten on the harbour wall as gulls wheeled overhead. The town’s promenade felt alive with that off-season vibe: dog walkers braving the breeze, cafes glowing warmly against the grey skies. Back at the cottage, we’d toast marshmallows over the fire, the bay’s twinkling lights our backdrop. If you’re after a getaway where autumn’s chill wraps you in nostalgia rather than misery, this corner of Wales nails it. We left with full bellies, sandy boots, and plans to return – next time, maybe with thermoses of mulled wine.