I’ll never forget the drive down to the Gower Peninsula – sat nav insisting we take some winding back road that turned out to be more pothole than tarmac. Halfway there, we got a puncture from what must’ve been a rogue sheep’s souvenir, and there I was, in the pouring Welsh rain, fumbling with a spare tyre while the kids cheered from the car like it was a rugby match. An hour’s delay later, though, we crested the hill towards Port Eynon, and blimey, the anticipation kicked in. That first glimpse of the sea, all slate-grey and churning under the clouds, had us grinning like idiots. We couldn’t wait to chuck our bags down and get out there.

The place we’d booked was spot on – this massive, airy six-bedroom farmhouse, done up lovely inside, right on the doorstep of the award-winning beach at Port Eynon. Free WiFi too, which was a godsend for the odd weather check (or scrolling through telly while the rain hammered the windows). Spacious enough for our lot – me, the wife, three kids and the in-laws – without feeling like a hotel. First impressions? Absolute cracker. We arrived just as the sun peeked out, so after a quick brew, we laced up our boots for an explore.

Day one was pure Gower magic: blue skies, light breeze, perfect for the classic hike along Port Eynon beach to Overton Mere. That stretch of sand is a belter, miles of it stretching out, dunes whispering as you crunch through. We followed the coastal path up to the cliffs, spotting seals bobbing about and gulls dive-bombing for chips (okay, maybe we’d packed crisps). The kids raced ahead, turning every rock into a pirate ship, while I lagged behind pretending I wasn’t knackered already. Lunch was pasties scoffed on the grass overlooking the bay – proper holiday fuel.

But oh, the British weather, eh? Next morning, it flipped like a bad penny. Lashing rain turned our planned ramble to Mewslade Bay into a soggy trudge. Paths turned to rivers, wellies squelching with every step, and the wife muttering about turning back. We pressed on, though – that’s the Gower for you, wild and unforgiving. The payoff? Emerging at the bay to find it deserted, waves crashing like thunder, the sort of dramatic scene that makes you feel alive. We hunkered down under a rocky overhang for hot chocolate from the flask, laughing about how we looked like drowned rats. Lightened the mood no end.

A couple of drier afternoons let us tackle the Oxwich Bay loop – that undulating path through woods and along the cliffs, with views that stop you in your tracks. One evening, low mist rolled in, turning the hike ethereal, like we’d stumbled into a Tolkien set. But come Sunday, gale-force winds scuppered the Rhossili clifftop stroll we’d earmarked. Instead, we pivoted to a sheltered inland wander around Pennard Castle ruins, wind howling but us cosy in our coats, imagining medieval folk cursing the same squalls.

Looking back, those weather-whipped walks were the highlight. Sure, I grumbled when my socks got soaked (note to self: pack more pairs next time), but there’s something character-building about battling the elements together. Gower’s paths demand respect – sunny bliss one minute, bracing adventure the next – and that farmhouse was the perfect base to dry off and plot the morrow. If you’re after proper Welsh coastal vibes, get yourself down there. Just check the forecast. And maybe skip the back roads.