I’ll never forget the drive up to our holiday spot in North Wales – or rather, the bit where we took a wrong turn and ended up arguing over the sat-nav like a pair of daft pensioners. We’d set off from Shrewsbury full of beans, me humming along to the radio, kids in the back munching crisps, but then some cheeky shortcut sign lured us off the A49 into what felt like the back of beyond. Twenty minutes of narrow lanes later, we were proper lost, with sheep eyeing us suspiciously and no signal. Typical us – always managing to turn a two-hour journey into an unplanned adventure. Still, it built the anticipation; by the time we finally rolled up, I was buzzing to see what this place had in store.

Pulling into the drive, we were gobsmacked by the first impressions. Engulfed by beautiful verdant countryside, with refreshing vistas reaching the Shropshire Hills, it’s a wonderfully refurbished barn conversion with a lovely homely feel. Perfect for our little family of four, it felt like the ideal retreat smack in the heart of fabulous walking country. We dumped the bags, cracked open a brew, and just soaked it in from the garden – proper bliss after the road drama.

What turned this trip into gold, though, wasn’t the obvious hikes everyone raves about. No, it was the hidden gems we stumbled on by accident, especially when we embraced getting lost. First morning, we headed out for a gentle stroll along the Long Mynd edges, but took a sneaky left down an unmarked bridleway instead of the main path. Blimey, what a find! It led us to this tucked-away dew pond, shimmering like a secret mirror amid the heather, with not a soul around. The kids splashed about while I sat on a rock, pondering how we city folk miss out on these quiet spots that feel like they’re just for you. Made me reflect on slowing down a bit more back home – life’s too rushed sometimes.

Next day, fancying a mooch, we veered off towards All Stretton’s back lanes on the bikes we’d brought. Lost signal again, naturally, and ended up pedalling into a forgotten hollow with a crumbling old well and wild garlic carpeting the ground. We foraged a bit (safely, mind), picnicked there, and laughed about how Google Maps would’ve ruined it. Afternoon took us wandering the lower slopes near Church Stretton, where a wrong turn down a sheep track spat us out at this minuscule waterfall – barely on any map, but roaring after the rain, with rainbows in the mist. The dog went mental chasing droplets; pure joy.

Evenings were for chilling at the barn, cooking up simple suppers and swapping tales of our off-the-beaten-track triumphs. One night, a final wander up a barely-there path revealed a sunset viewpoint over the hills that knocked our socks off – golden light bathing everything, like we’d gatecrashed heaven. Getting lost became our superpower; those accidental discoveries made the whole stay magical. If you’re after proper peace in North Wales walking country, ditch the plans and let the lanes lead you. We came home recharged, with stories (and a few ticks) to boot. Can’t wait to go back.