I’ll never forget the drive up to Llandudno – we’d packed the car to bursting with kids’ snacks and beach gear, only for the sat-nav to chuck a wobbly just past Colwyn Bay. It rerouted us down some narrow lane that felt like it was leading straight into the sea, and there I was, white-knuckling the wheel while the little ones chanted “Are we there yet?” from the back. A classic dad fail, but we laughed it off, and by the time we rolled into town, the anticipation was buzzing. Llandudno’s that perfect seaside postcard – Victorian grandeur hugging the bay, with the Great Orme looming like a friendly giant.

Pulling up to our ground-floor apartment, right in the heart of it all amid the promenade buzz and coastal charm, I had one of those “this’ll do nicely” moments. It’s the sort of place that welcomes you in with a light, fresh kitchen-diner – well-stocked and begging for family brekkies around the big table. Spotless bathroom with those cheeky seaside touches, two cosy bedrooms (a double and a triple bunk setup for the kids’ giggles), and a telly perfect for Netflix nights when the weather turns. First impressions? Spot on – felt like home from the off.

But here’s the thing: we didn’t stick to the obvious. Llandudno’s got the pier and the tramway, sure, but the real magic happened when we veered off the beaten track, quite literally getting lost a few times. Day one, after a stroll along the prom, we wandered up behind the Grand Hotel and stumbled into this tucked-away ginnel leading to Happy Valley. No crowds, just wildflowers spilling over the paths and goats eyeing us suspiciously from the Orme slopes. The kids scrambled about like feral pirates, and I plonked down for a brew from my flask, thinking how daft it is that we always chase the highlights reel instead of these accidental gems.

Next morning, aiming for the high street, we took a “shortcut” through the back lanes off Augusta Street – total fluke. Ended up at this hidden nook by the West Shore, a pebbly beach you’d miss if you blinked. Waves lapping lazy, not a soul in sight bar a lone fisherman. We built epic pebble castles, toes numb in the Irish Sea chill, and unearthed bits of sea glass that still sparkle on our mantel. Lunch was fish and chips from a no-frills takeaway we found by happy accident near the Little Orme – greasier, tastier, and half the price of the tourist traps.

Afternoon took us properly adrift: following a whim past Bodafon Farm, we got lost in the Noddfa paths – those quiet clifftop trails weaving through gorse and heather. Stunning views over Conway Bay without the coach parties, plus we spotted seals bobbing about. Pure serendipity. Evenings back at the flat, bunk beds creaking with stories of our “adventures,” Netflix flickering as rain pattered the windows.

Looking back, that self-inflicted wandering was the holiday’s heartbeat. In a rush for the big sights, we’d have missed the quiet joy of Llandudno’s secret corners. Next time, I’m ditching the sat-nav altogether – who needs it when getting lost feels this good?