I’ll never forget the drive up to that cracking little spot in North Wales – me behind the wheel, sat-nav chirping away, and the missus navigating with a cuppa in hand. We’d set off from Shropshire nice and early, buzzing with anticipation about our farmhouse getaway near Felindre, right on the edge of the countryside. But about halfway, disaster struck: a rogue sheep decided to play chicken with the car, forcing me into an emergency swerve that sent my thermos flying. Miraculously, no harm done, just a soggy lap and a good laugh to kick things off. By the time we trundled into the village, hearts were light, and pulling up to this wonderful detached 16th-century farmhouse on the owners’ working farm felt like arriving at a proper hidden gem. Five miles from Beguildy, it’s smack in the middle of rolling Welsh hills, with that hot tub winking at us from the garden. First impressions? Spot on – rustic wooden latch doors opening to spacious, comfy rooms that screamed family holiday heaven. Five bedrooms over three floors, the master with its en-suite, and even a ground-floor one for Nan if she joins next time. Views from upstairs had us grinning like kids.

We’d booked it for the walking, you see – proper hikes through the Offa’s Dyke paths that snake right past the farm. Day one, the weather gods smiled: blue skies, crisp air, perfect for lacing up boots and heading out. We tackled a cracking loop towards Beguildy, about five miles of undulating trails lined with heather and those gnarly old trees. The kids charged ahead, spotting buzzards overhead, while I huffed a bit on the ups – gentle self-reflection there, maybe lay off the biscuits. Picnicked by a babbling stream, feet dangling, feeling utterly content. That evening, hot tub under the stars was the perfect wind-down, muscles aching in the best way.

But oh, British weather – it’s got a wicked sense of humour. Next morning, the heavens opened, turning our planned long haul along the Dyke into a muddy slog. Plans shifted sharpish: instead of epic vistas, we did a shorter circuit right from the farm gate, splashing through puddles and dodging sheep. Laugh-out-loud moment when I slipped arse-over-tit into a ditch – the family’s in stitches, filming it for posterity. Still, it was brilliant; the rain brought out that fresh, earthy smell, and we spotted a red kite swooping low. Cosy up in the farmhouse after, dripping wet but buzzing from the adventure. Afternoon cleared just enough for another jaunt, a gentle ramble to a nearby hillock with views over the borderlands – mist rolling in like a dramatic film set.

By the end of the week, we’d notched up rainy treks, sunny strides, and everything in between. That farmhouse near Felindre nailed it for walkers – close to trails, comfy base, and weather-proof charm. Left us plotting the return, soggy socks and all. If you fancy proper North Wales adventures, this is your spot.