I’ll never forget the drive down to Pembrokeshire – one of those classic British road trips where the satnav decides to have a midlife crisis just as you hit the twisty lanes near Fishguard. We’d been buzzing with anticipation, dreaming of coastal walks and fresh crab rolls, but then the thing conked out completely, leaving us fumbling with a crumpled Ordnance Survey map while I muttered directions from the passenger seat. A small detour through some unmarked backroad had us convinced we were lost for good, but honestly, that’s when the magic started. We stumbled on this hidden gem of a cove, all pebbly beach and not a soul in sight, and pulled over for our first impromptu picnic. By the time we arrived, we were already hooked.

This lovely cottage for two is tucked away in the little valley of Dwrbach in north Pembrokeshire, the sort of place that feels like your own private hideaway, with cosy nooks perfect for curling up after a day out. First impressions? Spot on. The valley’s so peaceful, wrapped in greenery with birdsong everywhere, and that first evening sunset over the hills had us grinning like kids. No grand entrances or tourist traps here – just pure, unfiltered Wales.

The real joy, though, was how the area begged you to get lost. No grand plans; we just wandered, letting wrong turns lead us to off-the-beaten-track treasures. One morning, aiming for a vague beach walk, we veered off down a narrow lane near Pwllgwaelod and found ourselves at a secret headland overlook. Turquoise waves crashing below, seals popping up like cheeky neighbours – it was one of those moments where you pinch yourself. We picnicked on pasties from a tiny local bakery we’d spotted by accident in Goodwick, watching gannets dive-bomb the sea. Pure bliss, and not a coach party in sight.

Another day, a “shortcut” through the lanes behind Fishguard Harbour took us to this wildflower meadow we’d never have found on a map. It opened onto a rugged cliff path, all gorse and heather, with puffins nesting in the cracks (or so we joked – they were probably razorbills, but who’s counting?). We got properly lost for an hour, phones on aeroplane mode, laughing about our rubbish sense of direction. That’s the gentle self-reflection bit: I’m always the one banging on about itineraries back home, but out here, ditching the plan taught me to loosen up. Ended up at a hidden pebble beach near Strumble Head Lighthouse, skimmed stones till our arms ached, and watched the light sweep the horizon as dusk fell.

Evenings back at the cottage were for simple suppers – local smoked mackerel from the harbour, washed down with a cheeky Welsh cider – and stargazing from the garden. No light pollution, just the Milky Way putting on a show. We found a tucked-away streamside spot for a morning dip one day, courtesy of another navigational whoopsie, and it felt like we’d unlocked a private spa.

Pembrokeshire’s north coast is full of these accidental discoveries if you let yourself stray. Sure, it’s a trek from the main drags, but that’s the point – hidden gems reward the wanderers. If you’re after proper escapism, pack your wellies, embrace the wrong turn, and go find your own. We’re already plotting a return.