I’ll never forget the drive up to Conway – or rather, the near-disaster that kicked off my holiday. We’d set off from Manchester full of beans, sat-nav chirping away, but halfway through the twisty A55, a cheeky little lorry decided to play bumper cars with us. Nothing major, just a scrape that had me pulling over with my heart in my mouth, tutting about Welsh weather making everything slick. Still, we laughed it off over emergency service station coffees, and by the time we trundled into Rhos-on-Sea, the anticipation was buzzing. I could already picture kicking back with sea views and a cuppa, far from the daily grind.

Pulling into that quiet cul-de-sac felt like stumbling on a secret. It’s a first-floor apartment in a historic building with a proper story – once a hotel, owned by some aviation pioneer way ahead of his time. The open-plan living space hit us right away: kitchen, dining and lounge all blending together seamlessly, with gorgeous sea glimpses out front and serene nature reserve vistas at the back. Perfect for two, cosy and thoughtful, like it was waiting just for us. We dumped the bags, cracked open a bottle of local cider, and that was that – holiday mode activated.

But the real magic? Getting properly lost. None of that tourist trap malarkey; we ditched the maps on purpose and let our feet wander. First morning, we veered off the promenade path behind the apartment, into the Rhos-on-Sea nature reserve. What a hidden gem! We stumbled across this tucked-away bird hide, peering at oystercatchers and seals lounging on the rocks, the kind of spot you’d miss if you stuck to the main drag. I felt a proper twit for not knowing it was there – me, who fancies himself a bit of an explorer. Sat there with binoculars borrowed from the apartment drawer, munching Welsh cakes, it was pure bliss. Made me reflect on how I rush through life back home, never pausing for the quiet wonders.

Next day, a wrong turn down a narrow lane led us to Bryn-y-Bia Beach, this pebbly cove you wouldn’t spot on Google unless you squinted. Barely a soul around, just us skimming stones and dodging waves, with the Conway estuary sparkling in the distance. We picnicked on pasties from a no-frills bakery we found by accident in the village – flaky, steaming, and miles better than anything fancy. Laughing as we got drenched by a rogue splash, I thought, this is it: holidays aren’t about ticking boxes, but these serendipitous finds that stick with you.

Evenings, we’d amble to the Promenade Gardens, another off-the-radar nook with floral bursts and benches facing the bay. One dusk, we caught a seal family bobbing about, right there by the pier – accidental gold. Back at the apartment, cooking up simple suppers with the sea as our backdrop, it all felt effortlessly perfect. Sure, I pondered if I’d have appreciated it more without that initial road bump reminding me to slow down, but honestly, who cares? Rhos-on-Sea’s quiet corners turned a simple getaway into something unforgettable. If you fancy ditching the crowds for proper Welsh charm, get yourself lost here. You won’t regret it.