I’ll never forget the drive to Corris last month – sat nav insisting we take some winding back road through the hills, only for us to end up behind a sheep farmer’s lorry doing about 10 miles an hour. Proper Welsh welcome, that was, with woolly traffic jams and a drizzle starting to speckle the windscreen. But as we finally crested the hill into the village, hearts lifted – there it was, our little holiday pad, a delightful apartment spanning the first and second floors of a three-storey semi-detached Victorian place. Tucked away with its own private side door, it screamed cosy getaway from the off.

Stepping inside, we were chuffed to bits. Stairs up to a split-level landing, a cracking bathroom, a good-sized kitchen with a breakfast table begging for bacon butties, and a spacious sitting room doubling as dining area. The reclining sofas and that warming electric log-effect fire? Absolute bliss after a soggy day out. First impressions were spot on – it felt like a proper home from home for me and the missus, perfect for hunkering down when the weather turned nasty.

We’d packed our walking boots with big plans: tackle the Torrent Walk right on our doorstep first thing. It’s this cracking little trail along the river gorge, waterfalls tumbling everywhere, ferns dripping in the mist. Day one, blue skies held – we splashed through shallow streams, clambered over rocks, laughing like kids as the sun poked through. Proper invigorating, lungs full of that fresh mountain air. But come afternoon, classic British weather kicked in. Clouds rolled over from the Dyfi Valley like they owned the place, and we dashed back, soaked but grinning, straight to those recliners for tea and biscuits.

Next day, ambitions for a longer hike up to the hills around Corris Uchaf. We eyed the paths snaking towards the old quarries – nothing too gnarly, just enough to feel adventurous. Set off optimistic, but halfway up, the heavens opened. Biblical rain, wind whipping it sideways. Plans in the bin; we pivoted to a sheltered riverside stroll instead, dodging puddles and spotting dippers bobbing on the water. Back at the flat, fire on, we chuckled over how we’d turned into fair-weather hikers overnight. Honestly, it made me reflect a bit – we’re always chasing the perfect day out, but these curveballs are what stick in the memory, aren’t they? Reminded me to loosen up, embrace the muck.

By midweek, weather gods smiled again. We managed a cracking loop from the village up through woodlands to the viewpoints over the Dovey Valley – heather blooming, buzzards soaring, that Snowdonia magic everywhere. Legs ached come evening, but collapsing into those comfy chairs with a brew? Heaven. Even tried spotting kingfishers on the calmer stretches of the Afon Dulas, though we had more luck with robins.

Our last morning brought a sneaky frost, turning paths sparkly – a gentle yomp along the old railway track bed before packing up. Corris and its walks won us over completely; the apartment was the ideal base, letting us roll with whatever the skies threw at us. If you fancy ditching the daily grind for hikes, hiccups and hearthside hygge, this is your spot. We’re already plotting a return – weather be dashed.