I’ll never forget the drive to our holiday spot in the Brecon Beacons – a proper faff from the start. We’d piled into two cars with the whole family clan, kids bouncing about like kangaroos, when halfway up the A40, the sat-nav decided to throw a wobbly and sent us on a detour through some sleepy village. Twenty minutes later, we’re back on track, but I’m sweating like a porker in a bacon factory, convinced we’d miss the golden hour arrival I’d been banging on about. Still, as we wound our way into those rolling hills, the anticipation built – you could almost taste the fresh air.

Pulling up to this massive farm setup just outside Brecon was a belter of a first impression. It’s a large group pad sleeping up to 25, with a cosy farmhouse and two cottages you can hire as one big secluded complex. Perfect for our mad lot, and the dog was chuffed to bits getting the one pet-friendly cottage. Two hot tubs steaming away, huge gardens stretching out, plus a games room and fishing rights on the spot – and those views? Blimey, they hit you right in the chest, all misty peaks and endless green.

We’d planned epic hikes from the off, dreaming of conquering Pen y Fan on day one. But oh, the British weather – that cheeky sod. First morning, it’s glorious: blue skies, not a cloud in sight. We legged it up the path from the farm towards the Beacons Way, boots crunching on crisp grass, stopping for snaps at every sheep-dotted vantage point. The kids raced ahead, turning it into a treasure hunt for the best view, while I puffed along feeling like a proper explorer. Lunch was cheese rolls on a rocky outcrop, wind whipping our hair – pure magic.

Come afternoon, the heavens opened. Proper Welsh deluge, turning trails to slip-and-slides. Plan B: a shorter loop around Llangorse Lake, just a couple of miles off, hoods up and giggling through the downpour. We squelched back soaked to the skin, straight into the hot tubs – best decision ever. That evening, nursing mugs of tea in the games room, we laughed about my soggy socks flapping on the line.

Next day, fog rolled in thick as pea soup, nixing the big Fan y Big circuit we’d earmarked. Instead, a gentle wander along the canal towpath near Brecon, misty magic that felt like stepping into a Tolkien tale. The weather kept us on our toes – one minute lashing rain forcing us to hunker down with board games and stories by the fire, the next, sunbeams breaking through for a brisk yomp over nearby hills like Corn Du’s lower slopes. It was all about adapting, wasn’t it? Made me reflect a bit – back home, I’m always chasing the perfect plan, but out there, letting the weather call the shots brought out the best in us. No epic summits ticked off the list, but heaps of daft memories: sliding on mud, impromptu sing-songs in the rain, and that one time my other half face-planted in a puddle (she still denies it).

By the end, hiking in the Beacons had us knackered but buzzing. If you’re rounding up a big group, this place is a dream – weather and all. We’re already plotting a return.