I’ll never forget the drive down to Pembrokeshire – sat nav insisting we were nearly there, only for us to take a wrong turn onto some narrow lane that had us convinced we’d ended up in a hedge maze. A classic me moment, faffing with the map app while the missus rolled her eyes and suggested reversing into a ditch would be quicker. But honestly, that little mishap set the tone for the whole trip: getting lost in the best possible way, stumbling on hidden gems you’d never find with a guidebook.

Pulling up to our cosy cottage on the edge of Cresswell Quay, I was buzzing with that proper holiday anticipation – you know, imagining lazy evenings with a cold pint and no emails pinging. First impressions? Spot on. Tucked right into this pretty tidal hamlet, with the quay buzzing gently below. That renowned quayside inn is the heart of it all, drawing in boats bobbing on the water, classic bikes gleaming in the sun, and folks firing up BBQs like it’s a village festival. The Pembrokeshire Coast Path snakes right through, and those stepping stones across the river at low tide? Magic for walkers and anyone who fancies a bit of nature without the crowds.

We wasted no time diving into the off-the-beaten-track vibe. Day one, we followed the coastal path on a whim, veering off the main route because a sneaky little sign pointed to a secluded cove. No tourists in sight, just us, seals barking in the distance, and waves lapping at pebbly shores that felt like our private beach. Got properly lost for an hour, bushwhacking through gorse (note to self: wear trousers next time), but emerged grinning at a wildflower meadow buzzing with butterflies. Pure joy, that unplanned magic.

The next morning, we wandered towards Carew Castle – less than two miles, an easy circular stroll around the mill pond that’s one of those underrated loops you’d miss if you stuck to the roads. The castle ruins loom like something out of a storybook, with herons fishing lazily and not a soul around. We picnicked on pasties from the quay shop, feeling like local explorers. Self-reflection hit me there, sat on a bench with the pond shimmering: when was the last time I switched off the phone and just let the day unfold? Too long, mate.

Of course, we couldn’t resist a short drive to nearby spots within five miles – Heatherton Country Park for a go-kart spin that had us whooping like kids, and a cheeky visit to Manor House Zoo where the lemurs eyed us suspiciously. Folly Farm’s adventure playground was a hidden laugh riot too, with me failing spectacularly at the zip line while the kids (and wife) howled. Even got lost en route back, ending up at some forgotten river viewpoint with kingfishers darting about. Tenby and Saundersfoot beaches tempted us once, but honestly, those accidental detours stole the show – no queues, no hype, just proper Pembrokeshire peace.

Staying here was a reminder that the best holidays aren’t planned to death; they’re about embracing the wrong turns. Can’t wait to go back and lose myself all over again.