I’ll never forget the drive up to Deganwy last summer – me behind the wheel of our trusty old Fiesta, sat-nav chirping away like it owned the road, and my other half nagging about stopping for a pasty. We’d been buzzing with anticipation for days, dreaming of that proper Welsh seaside escape, but about ten miles out, disaster struck: a rogue seagull decided our windscreen was its personal canvas. Splattered and swearing under my breath (well, mildly tutting), we pulled over near the A55 for an emergency clean-up with wet wipes and sheer determination. Laughed it off in the end, though – set the tone for a holiday full of happy accidents.

Pulling into Deganwy just as the sun dipped low, we were gobsmacked by the first impressions. This cracking second-floor apartment in the Castle Apartments sat right in the heart of the village, a short wander from cosy bars and chip shops, with the Conway Valley railway line humming below and jaw-dropping views across the river to Conway Castle’s silhouette against those rolling hills. Stepping inside felt like instant home – stylish kitchen kitted out for a fry-up, dining spot ready for our feasts, and that sitting room? Floor-to-ceiling bi-folding doors swinging open to a Juliet balcony where you could sip tea gazing at the coastline. Double bedroom was snug, bathroom spotless – we dumped the bags and cracked open a bottle of fizz on the balcony, toasting our good fortune.

But the real magic kicked in when we ditched the guidebook and let ourselves get properly lost. First morning, wandering from the apartment towards the estuary, we veered off the main path by accident and stumbled on this tucked-away pebble beach just beyond the marina – not a soul around, just us skipping stones and watching seals bob in the water. Felt like we’d nicked a secret from the locals. Later, aiming for a pub lunch, we took a wrong turn up a narrow lane and found ourselves on a hidden coastal trail winding along the cliffs. Wildflowers everywhere, gulls wheeling overhead, and a bench with a view that stopped us in our tracks – proper off-the-beaten-track bliss, with the sea crashing below.

One afternoon, fueled by ice cream from the village shop, we crossed the old swing bridge into Conway (a cheeky five-minute stroll) but skipped the tourist crush around the castle walls. Instead, we pottered down back alleys and discovered this wee hidden garden by the quay – overgrown, with wonky benches and a bubbling stream. Sat there with flasks of coffee, chatting about nothing, and I had one of those gentle moments: realising how daft it is rushing through life back home, when getting lost like this recharges the batteries like nothing else. Laughed at myself for being such a map-clinger usually.

Evenings back at the apartment were gold – balcony dinners with the hills glowing pink, trains whooshing by like a free soundtrack. Another lost wander led us to a secluded spot by the golf course edges, where we picnicked watching the tide roll in. Deganwy’s got that understated charm – no crowds, just serendipitous gems if you let the paths meander. Left feeling like we’d uncovered a proper hidden corner of Wales, already plotting the return. If you fancy ditching the obvious and embracing the wander, this is your spot.