I’ll never forget the drive up to North Wales last month – we piled into the car in Manchester, full of excitement for a few days in a cracking detached cottage near Ruthin, but about halfway there, the sat-nav decided to have a midlife crisis and sent us down a narrow lane that turned into a muddy track. Cue a tense five minutes reversing with hedges scraping the sides, me laughing nervously while the other half gripped the wheel like it was a lifeline. “Typical us,” I muttered, but we emerged unscathed, and as we crested the hill into Pentre Celyn, my heart lifted. There it was, this superb little gem nestled in the hamlet, four miles from Ruthin, surrounded by rolling countryside that stretched out like a proper Welsh postcard. First impressions? Spot on – well-presented, fully renovated with real attention to detail, and those unspoilt rural views had us grinning like kids.

The cottage was perfect for our group – three bedrooms sorted us nicely, with a king-size master and en-suite for the luxury touch, a cosy double, and a twin for flexibility. That open-plan living area felt so welcoming, especially after the drive, with underfloor heating and a woodburner ready to chase away any chill. We dumped the bags and cracked open a brew, anticipation buzzing about all the walks we’d mapped out.

First day, the weather gods smiled: bright blue skies, not a cloud in sight. We headed straight out for a gentle hike along the Clwydian Range, just a couple of miles from the door. Those hills are brilliant – heather moorlands, buzzards soaring overhead, and views down to Ruthin’s castle ruins peeking through the valleys. We ambled for hours, picnicking on a rocky outcrop, feeling like proper explorers. I even managed a daft skip down a slope, pretending I was in a sheepdog trial, which had everyone in stitches.

But oh, British weather – it’s got a wicked sense of humour. Next morning, we woke to lashing rain and a wind that rattled the windows. Our planned longer trek to the Offa’s Dyke path got scrapped; instead, we layered up and tackled a shorter loop around Pentre Celyn’s back lanes. Muddy boots and all, it turned into a comedy of errors – slipping on slick grass, dodging sheep that looked as fed up as us. “This is character-building!” I yelled over the gale, but secretly I was dreaming of the woodburner. We laughed it off back at the cottage, drying off and toasting marshmallows while the storm howled outside.

By day three, the clouds parted again, and we nailed a cracking circular walk from the hamlet towards the moors near Llanbedr. Uphill slogs rewarded with panoramic vistas, wild ponies grazing, and that fresh Welsh air that clears your head. The weather flips kept things exciting, forcing us to adapt – bad days meant puddle-splashing adventures close to home, good ones let us roam further into the hills.

Looking back, it was a right mix: exhilarating highs on sunny trails, soggy lows that tested our waterproofs (and patience). Made me reflect – I’m always chasing perfect plans, but these weather-whipped walks reminded me holidays are about rolling with it, boots on, one step at a time. Can’t wait to go back.