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 their crisps and iPads, me navigating via a dodgy sat-nav that decided halfway through to send us down a single-track lane near Colwyn Bay. Cue a comedy-of-errors moment: we ended up nose-to-nose with a farmer’s tractor, reversing for what felt like miles while sheep stared us down. Laughing our heads off, we finally emerged, hearts racing a bit, but buzzing with that “we’re nearly there” thrill.

Pulling up to this cracking detached house right by the beach in Llanddulas, Conway, my first impressions were spot on. Off-road parking was a godsend after the tractor saga, and it welcomed our well-behaved labradoodle with open paws. Inside, it was pure comfort: a big king bedroom downstairs with its own en-suite, perfect for us weary travellers. Upstairs, three more generous rooms each with en-suites, plus a handy cloakroom and utility room kitted out with washer and dryer – ideal for sandy beach towels after a day out.

But the real magic? Getting properly lost and stumbling on North Wales’ hidden gems. We weren’t here for the tourist traps; this spot screamed adventure off the beaten track. First morning, I nipped out for milk and took a wrong turn down a coastal path I’d never clocked on the map. Ended up at a secluded cove just along from Llanddulas beach – think turquoise waves lapping at pebbly shores, not a soul in sight. We spent hours there, skimming stones and building epic pebble towers, the kids declaring it better than any arcade.

That set the tone. One drizzly afternoon, aiming for a quick walk, we veered off into the woods behind the village, following a faint sign for “rhiw” (that’s Welsh for hill, I learned later). Lost? Absolutely. But we found this tucked-away waterfall cascading into a natural pool – our own private splash spot. Picnicked on cheese butties while the dog splashed about, feeling like proper explorers. No crowds, just the rush of water and that smug “we discovered this” vibe.

Another gem came by bike – rented some from a bloke in the village. Got lost again looping around the headland towards Penmaen Rhos, and bam, a forgotten smugglers’ cave mouth gaping from the cliffs. We poked about (safely, mind), imagining pirate tales, then rewarded ourselves with fish and chips from the no-frills takeaway back in Llanddulas. Evenings, we’d flop in the lounge, windows open to the sea breeze, sharing stories of the day’s detours.

Reflecting on it now, I reckon that’s the joy of these spots: they force you to slow down, ditch the plans, and let serendipity lead. Me, the eternal planner, learned to embrace the wander – and boy, did it make the holiday. If you’re after coastal bliss without the hordes, get yourself lost around here. You won’t regret it.