I’ll never forget the drive up to Criccieth last autumn – those golden leaves swirling like confetti as we wound our way along the A497 from Porthmadog. It was mid-October, the kind of crisp weekend where the air nips at your cheeks but promises cosy nights in. We’d packed too many jumpers, as you do, but halfway there, disaster struck: a rogue flock of sheep decided our Fiat was their personal obstacle course. I slammed on the brakes, heart in my mouth, and we ended up laughing hysterically as the farmer waved us on with a cheery thumbs-up. Typical Wales, eh? That little mishap only ramped up the anticipation – I was buzzing to see this hidden gem we’d booked, imagining hot mugs of tea and sea views to chase away the chill.

Pulling up, my jaw dropped. It’s a large, detached house tucked away in the historic town, the sort that screams perfect getaway for mates or a big family do – we were seven, easy as pie. First impressions? Spot on. Off-road parking meant no faffing with double-yellows, and as we stepped into the garden, there it was: breathtaking panoramas of the sea crashing below and Criccieth Castle’s silhouette brooding on the headland, all bathed in that soft, slanting autumn light. The hot tub was calling our names already, steam rising invitingly against the cooling dusk.

Autumn shaped every minute of it, turning what could’ve been a standard break into pure magic. Mornings started with mist rolling off the bay, wrapping the place in a hushed, ethereal glow – we’d brew coffee and spill out onto the plush sofas by the gas fireplace, bingeing old episodes of Strictly while the sea twinkled through the massive windows. No telly distraction could beat that view; it felt like our own private postcard. Days were for bracing walks along the pebbly beach just steps away, kicking through crunchy leaves and driftwood, the castle looming like a giant from a fairy tale. The season’s mellow hues – rusty bracken on the cliffs, fiery sunsets painting the waves – made it all feel alive, not touristy.

Evenings? Bliss. As the sun dipped early, we’d crack open a bottle (or three) of mulled cider in the garden, wrapped in blankets, before slipping into the steaming hot tub. The chill wind off the Irish Sea sharpened every sip, but those views – castle aglow against the twilight – made you forget the cold. One night, under a canopy of stars (autumn’s clear skies are unbeatable), we played cards till our fingers went numb, giggling like kids. I had a quiet moment then, toes pruning in the bubbles, reflecting on how daft it is to let work stress build up – this was the reset I didn’t know I needed.

We popped into town for fish and chips from a chippy that does the proper batter, wrapping up against the brisk breeze, and even nipped to the castle for a windswept wander – ruins whispering history while gulls wheeled overhead. No crowds, just us and the season’s gentle embrace. Leaving felt bittersweet; that autumnal hush lingers in my mind still. If you’re after a North Wales escape where the time of year steals the show, this is it – book it before winter’s bite or spring’s rush. Pure tonic for the soul.