We’d barely made it past the outskirts of Conwy when the satnav decided the quickest route to Neptune Cottage was up a farm track that turned out to be someone’s driveway. After an apologetic wave at a rather unimpressed sheep, we reversed out and found the proper lane, which wound us straight to the little whitewashed place just above the beach. The key was in the promised lockbox, the kettle was already on the side, and the view from the front window was pure postcard—sandy stretch, slate-grey sea, and the castle towers peeking over the rooftops in the distance.

First impressions were all about light and salt air. The cottage felt instantly welcoming: a squashy sofa facing the window, a scrubbed pine table big enough for maps and mugs, and a back door that opened onto a tiny flagged yard with a bench. We dumped our bags, pulled on walking boots still sandy from the last trip, and set straight off along the coastal path that runs right past the garden gate.

The plan had been a proper stretch toward the Little Orme, but the British weather had other ideas. One minute we were striding along with the sun on our faces, the next a fat cloud rolled in and the first fat drops sent us scurrying under a handy stand of gorse. We waited it out with slightly damp sandwiches and watched a pair of oystercatchers skitter along the tideline. When the rain eased we carried on, boots squelching, and discovered that wet Welsh grass makes for surprisingly good impromptu slip-and-slide entertainment—my partner went down with a yelp and came up laughing, covered in green streaks.

By the time we looped back to the cottage the sun was out again, so we spread our jackets on the yard bench to dry and made tea. Sitting there with salt on our lips and the sound of waves just below, I caught myself thinking how rarely we actually slow down enough to notice a place. The little detour on the way in, the shower that cut our hike short—none of it had ruined anything; it had simply changed the rhythm. Tomorrow we’d try the path the other way, past the harbour and up toward the town walls if the clouds behaved, but for now the first afternoon had already done its job: we were here, slightly windswept and properly at ease, ready for whatever the coast decided to offer next.