I’ll never forget the drive to our holiday cottage near Llandudno – or rather, the comedy of errors that got us there. We’d piled into the car from Manchester, full of beans and Spotify playlists, only for the sat-nav to have a proper hissy fit just as we hit the A55. It rerouted us down some winding B-road that felt like it was auditioning for a rally stage, complete with a sudden downpour that turned the windscreen into a Jackson Pollock painting. I was wiping it frantically while my other half yelled directions from a soggy map app. By the time we pulled up, we were laughing through gritted teeth, but oh, what a first impression! The cottage sat in this cracking spot, all cosy and welcoming with its classic Welsh charm, and the views over the hills had us grinning like kids on Christmas morning. We couldn’t wait to lace up our boots and hit the trails.

North Wales in summer is a walker’s dream, or so they say – as long as you’re prepared for the weather to throw a proper tantrum. Day one dawned bright and breezy, perfect for a gentle stroll along the Conway estuary. It’s just a short hop from the cottage, that World Heritage town with its massive castle looming like something out of a fairy tale. We wandered the town walls first, peering over at the fishing harbour below, then ambled along the waterfront paths. The sun glinted off the water, gulls wheeled overhead, and we popped into a few independent shops for a cheeky pasty. Pure bliss, that first taste of freedom after the drive.

But day two? Classic British weather roulette. We’d planned a hearty hike up to the RSPB Conway Reserve, eyeing up those bird hides and marshy trails for a bit of wildlife spotting. Skies were blue when we set off, but halfway there, the heavens opened. Proper Welsh rain, the kind that soaks you to the bone in minutes. We hunkered down under a massive golf umbrella (why didn’t we pack proper gear?), giggling as we squelched through puddles. It turned into an impromptu adventure – dodging mud slicks and spotting herons that didn’t care a jot about our soggy plight. By the time we got back, we were drenched but buzzing, brewing tea and vowing to embrace whatever the next day brought.

The real magic came on our third outing, a jaunt towards the foothills near Llanrwst – easy drive from the cottage. Sun peeked out just enough for a rewarding climb up some gentle slopes with views that knocked the wind out of you (in a good way). We pushed on to tougher paths where the terrain got cheekier, all bracken and rocky outcrops, rewarding us with panoramas over the Conway Valley. Lunch was a picnic of local cheese and bara brith from a nearby café, sat on a boulder like proper explorers. Rain threatened again, mind, forcing us to cut it short and leg it back – but that’s the joy of these hikes, isn’t it? The unpredictability keeps you on your toes.

Looking back, as we packed up on the last day, I had a quiet moment realising how those weather-whipped walks had been the highlight. No grand plans, just us versus the elements, rediscovering that simple thrill of putting one foot in front of the other. Llandudno’s trails, from estuary wanders to hilltop hauls, had us hooked. If you fancy a holiday that mixes mishaps, muddy boots and massive grins, grab your wellies and go. We’re already plotting a return.