I’ll never forget the drive down to St Davids – a proper Welsh road trip that started with me cursing my sat-nav as it led us straight into a cheeky flock of sheep blocking the lane just outside Haverfordwest. There we were, engine ticking over, watching the farmer round them up at his leisure while I drummed my fingers on the wheel, dreaming of that first cuppa. But honestly, it set the tone for a holiday full of those little surprises, and by the time we trundled up the farm track to our detached cottage, all was forgiven. Nestled on a working farm right by the Pembrokeshire coast, it was everything we’d hoped: cosy, with sea views peeking through the windows, and just a short stroll from the waves and the Wales Coast Path. First impressions? Spot on – we dumped the bags and cracked open a bottle of local cider on the patio, grinning like idiots.

The plan was simple: hike our socks off along that legendary Coastal Path. St Davids is walker’s paradise, isn’t it? We kicked off with a sunny morning jaunt to Whitesands Bay, about a mile or so away – golden sands, surf crashing in, seals bobbing offshore like nosy neighbours. Perfect for a family amble, with the kids charging ahead spotting seabirds and me pretending I wasn’t knackered already. The path winds right along the cliffs, all dramatic drops and wildflowers, and we even paused for a picnic of pasties from the cathedral close. Feeling invincible, we pushed on towards Porth Clais, that tiny harbour where the Vikings once raided (or so the signs say). Blue skies, light breeze – couldn’t ask for more.

Then came the British weather, that great equaliser. Next day, we woke to grey skies and a drizzle that turned into a proper downpour by breakfast. No matter; we’re hardy types (or so I tell myself). Waterproofs on, we headed out anyway, aiming for the headland path near Caerfai Bay. It was grim at first – wind whipping the rain horizontal, paths turning to mudslides – but there’s something magical about it. The sea roared like a beast, gannets diving through the mist, and we laughed our way along, slipping and sliding like Bambi on ice. The kids loved it, turning it into a game of dodge-the-puddle, while I reflected on how I’m not as young as I used to be. One epic skid had me on my bum, covered in muck, and we all howled – best therapy ever.

By afternoon, the clouds parted just enough for a gentler loop back via the farm tracks, spotting tractors and lambs in the fields. That evening, cosy in the cottage with hot mugs of tea and sheep bleating outside, we planned the morrow. Weather flipped again: next hike was a stunner under patchy sun to Ramsey Sound, watching porpoises from the cliffs. It drove home how Pembrokeshire keeps you on your toes – one minute sun-drenched bliss, the next a wild adventure that makes you feel alive. We covered miles, from easy coastal trots to those bracing wet-weather battles, and came home fitter, muddier, and closer as a family. If you fancy escaping the grind for proper walks with a side of unpredictability, this corner of St Davids is pure gold. Can’t wait to go back.