I’ll never forget the drive up to our holiday spot in North Wales – a proper faff from the start. We’d piled into the car in Cheshire, kids buzzing in the back with crisps and iPads, me navigating via a dodgy sat-nav that decided to throw a wobbly just past Llandudno. It rerouted us down some narrow lane that felt more like a sheep track, and sure enough, we ended up with a wing mirror kiss from a passing tractor. Laughing it off (well, mostly), we finally spotted the turn-off near Eglwysbach, hearts lifting at the thought of ditching the M6 madness for Conway Valley peace.

Pulling up to this spacious detached house, I was gobsmacked – extensive country views stretching out like a postcard, grazing fields all around, and cheekily, an alpaca enclosure just over the fence. Those fluffy fellows eyed us curiously as we unloaded, like they were the welcoming committee. Inside, it was all stylish contemporary vibes: attractive rooms, a high-quality kitchen with granite worktops and a central island begging for family brekkies, and a large central hallway drawing your eye straight out past the dining area to the rural scenery. The sitting room felt welcoming with its woodburning stove, and those double doors to the conservatory? Pure bliss, opening onto a patio and garden with panoramic views. Oh, and the luxurious hot tub – we were in before the bags were unpacked.

But the real magic? Getting properly lost in the best way. No grand itineraries here; we let the valley’s hidden gems pull us in by accident. First morning, a wrong turn while aiming for the village shop led us to a tucked-away footpath snaking along the River Conway. Nobody about, just us, dipping toes in the shallows, spotting herons and picking wild garlic that perfumed the air. Lunch was a picnic of pasties from Eglwysbach’s brilliant little bakery – found it stumbling out of a misty lane, owner chatting like we were old mates.

Afternoons meant more meandering. One day, hunting a viewpoint, we veered off onto a single-track road and stumbled on a forgotten picnic spot by a babbling brook, complete with a rickety bench and views up to the hills that stopped you in your tracks. The kids built dams while I sunk into that hot tub later, fizz in hand, chuckling at how my usual Type-A planning had gone out the window. Another gem: a woodland trail we tripped over behind the alpacas, carpeted in bluebells (out of season, mind, but still lush), leading to a fairy-tale clearing perfect for den-building. Even got chatting to a local farmer who pointed out a sheepdog trial hidey-hole nearby – watched the dogs work like wizards, all from our accidental vantage point.

Reflecting on it now, over a cosy evening by the stove with shepherd’s pie bubbling, I realised getting lost was the point. In the rush of life, we rarely wander without a pin-drop goal. Here, in this Conway Valley bolthole, those off-the-beaten-track finds – the secret riverside nooks, the whispered-about bakery corners – made the holiday. No crowds, just us and the valley’s quiet secrets. If you fancy ditching the map for a bit of serendipity, this neck of North Wales delivers in spades. We’re already plotting a return.