I’ll never forget the drive up to Llandudno – we’d packed the car to the gills with wellies, waterproofs, and enough crisps to last a siege, only for the sat-nav to chuck us into a cheeky detour through some narrow lanes near Colwyn Bay. A sheep decided it was the perfect moment to play chicken with our bumper, forcing a sudden swerve and a bit of light-hearted swearing from the passenger seat (me, mostly). Still, by the time we rolled up, hearts racing a tad, the anticipation was buzzing – golden sands and sea views promised on the booking pics had us grinning like kids at the fair.

First impressions? Blimey, what a spot. This four-storey beauty, perched just moments from Llandudno’s beaches and Conway’s medieval walls, screamed luxurious coastal escape – all style and sea air, perfect for our little crew of family and mates. We dumped the bags, cracked open a brew, and gazed out at the waves crashing below. Proper North Wales welcome.

Day one dawned bright, so we laced up and hit the promenade for an easy stroll along the golden sands. Llandudno’s West Shore felt like our private playground – flat, breezy, with views across the bay that made you forget the world. We wandered for miles, dodging jellyfish washed up by the tide, chatting nonsense and snapping selfies with the Great Orme looming like a sleepy giant. Lunch was chips from a beachside van, naturally, with sand in our socks and not a care.

But oh, the British weather – it’s got a wicked sense of humour. Next morning, the skies turned biblical, lashing rain that turned the prom into a wind tunnel. Plans for a sunny yomp up the Orme? Scrubbed. Instead, we rugged up and embraced the chaos, trudging the lower slopes in full Gore-Tex armour. The path hugs the cliffs, wild and woolly, with gorse bushes whipping at our legs and sheep eyeing us suspiciously from the hills. It was grim at first – horizontal rain stinging our faces – but then the mist lifted just enough for a rainbow arching over Conway Castle. Magic. We laughed it off, turning a soggy hike into an epic tale over tea back at the house.

A drier afternoon lured us out again for the East Shore walk – shorter, but punchy, with the pier’s twinkly lights winking in the distance. We timed it for low tide, pottering across the sands towards the headland, spotting oystercatchers and even a seal bobbing about. Gentle self-reflection hit me there, mid-stride: rushing about city life makes you forget how a good plod in the elements sorts your head out. No signal, no notifications – just the sea’s rhythm and mates’ banter. Priceless.

By week’s end, we’d clocked hikes in sun, squalls, and everything in between – from the Orme’s airy ridges down to town trails past the Victorian arcade. The weather flipped our script daily, but that’s the joy of it here. Llandudno’s coast doesn’t do predictable; it does alive. If you fancy legs of steel and lungs full of sea air, grab your boots and go. We’re already plotting a return.