I’ll never forget the drive up to Lakeside Pods in the Peak District last autumn – that crisp October weekend when the leaves were turning all shades of fire and gold, but the weather decided to throw a proper cheeky spanner in the works right at the start. We’d set off from Oldham early, windows down to catch the first nip of chill in the air, the moors already looking like a painting with their bracken glowing rusty orange under a sky heavy with promise. But about five miles out, just as we hit the winding lanes near Dovestone Reservoir, the satnav lost its marbles. “Recalculating,” it chirped endlessly while I faffed about with my phone, nearly missing a pheasant darting across the road like it owned the place. Classic me – overpacking the car with wellies and thermoses, yet forgetting a proper map. A minor faff, but it had us laughing as we pulled up to the pods 20 minutes late, the delay making the golden hour light hit just right.

Spotting Lakeside Pods for the first time was pure magic, especially in that autumnal glow. Tucked right by the reservoir’s shimmering edge, these quirky little pods looked like something out of a fairy tale – compact, cosy, and painted in muted greens that blended seamlessly with the surrounding hills. Ours, Dovestone Pod 21, sat perched with a view straight across the water, where the fading sun was turning the ripples to molten copper. Pets welcome? Spot on – our scruffy terrier, Monty, bounded out like he’d won the lottery, tail wagging at the sight of open space after the car confinement. The season made it all the more special; summer crowds long gone, the place felt intimately ours, with the wind whispering through the trees laden with conkers and the air scented with damp earth and decaying leaves.

Stepping inside was like slipping into a warm hug after the brisk outdoors. The pod’s interior screamed snug autumn retreat: a wood-burning stove already laid with kindling (cheers to that, as the evening chill was creeping in), fairy lights twinkling against the wooden walls, and a compact kitchenette stocked with tea, coffee, and those proper British mugs you want to curl up with. I plonked down on the surprisingly comfy sofa-bed, Monty curling up beside me, and just stared out the floor-to-ceiling windows. The reservoir lapped gently below, fringed by those iconic Peak District gritstone edges now softened by a light mist rolling in from the moors. It was mesmerising – the way the autumn sun dipped low, casting long shadows over the water and painting the distant hills in bruised purples and ambers. No telly needed; this was nature’s own telly, far better than anything on iPlayer.

First impressions? Blown away by how the season amplified everything. We cracked open a bottle of mulled cider (pre-packed, naturally) as dusk fell, the pod’s warmth battling the dropping temperature outside – down to a proper nippy 8°C by nightfall. A gentle wander down to the water’s edge revealed the full glory: mallards quacking in the fading light, the surface alive with reflections of turning foliage, and not a soul in sight. Monty splashed about, retrieving sticks with glee, while I crunched over fallen leaves, feeling that rare peace you only get when the Peak District empties out post-summer. Light humour in the mishap aside, it got me reflecting quietly over that first cuppa by the stove – how often do we rush through life, missing these simple, seasonal shifts? Here, with the pods’ unpretentious charm and the reservoir’s timeless pull, autumn stripped it all back to what matters: a deep breath, a loyal dog, and a view that feeds the soul.

By bedtime, wrapped in the pod’s fluffy quilts, listening to owls hoot across the water, I knew this three-day jaunt was off to the perfect start. Lakeside Pods didn’t just welcome us – it wrapped us in Peak District autumn at its finest.