I’ll never forget the drive to Daisy Lodge—our three-day jaunt to Devon started with a classic me blunder. I’d packed the sat-nav but forgot to charge it, so halfway down the A30 from Exeter, it conked out, leaving us squinting at faded Ordnance Survey maps while the kids in the back moaned about needing the loo. “Dad, are we lost already?” piped up little Ollie, aged eight. A minor detour through some nameless lanes near Okehampton, and we ended up at a layby with the most stunning view of Dartmoor’s tors poking through the mist. Proper hidden gem, that spot—wild ponies grazing like they owned the place, and not a selfie stick in sight. Laughed it off as our first accidental adventure, and it set the tone for the whole trip.

By early afternoon, we rolled up to Roadford Lake, where Daisy Lodge sits tucked away in the Roadford Lake Lodges holiday park. First impressions? Blimey, it’s a cracker. The lodge is one of those cosy wooden numbers right on the water’s edge, with a veranda that practically begs for a cuppa and a stare at the lake. We’d booked it on a whim for its off-grid vibe—no thumping nightlife, just peace and quiet amid 900 acres of Devonian wilderness. Unloaded the car in a flurry (me dropping the cool box, naturally, spilling sandwiches everywhere), and within minutes, we were kicking off shoes and breathing in that fresh, piney air. The lake shimmered like a secret, fringed by ancient oaks and buzzing with dragonflies. No crowds, no coach parties—just us and the herons.

First order of business: explore on foot, no maps, just wanderlust. We stumbled straight into a path that hugged the lakeshore, vanishing into a thicket of ferns and brambles. Proper getting-lost territory, and I loved it. Ten minutes in, we found this wee pebble beach, hidden by reeds, where Ollie and his sister Mia skipped stones till their arms ached. “Better than the arcade!” Mia declared, which coming from a telly-addict teen was high praise. Sat there on a fallen log, munching ginger nuts, watching trout leap—felt like we’d gatecrashed Narnia. No signs, no tourists; just the lap of water and a buzzard circling overhead. That’s Devon for you—full of these accidental treasures if you veer off the beaten track.

As the sun dipped, we looped back via a woodland trail that popped out at a forgotten picnic spot by the reservoir’s dam. Discovered it by pure fluke, following a squirrel that looked like it knew the way. Fired up the lodge’s barbecue (gas, thank goodness—no faffing with charcoal), grilling local bangers from a farm shop we’d spotted en route. The veranda view was magic at dusk: otters slipping through the lily pads, bats flitting out for their evening hunt. Sat there with a pint of Devon Dumpling ale, kids roasting marshmallows, and proper reflected on how these unplanned detours beat any itinerary. In the rush of London life, I’m always chasing the next thing—work emails, school runs—but here, getting lost forced me to slow down, notice the little joys. Like the way the lake turned mirror-smooth, reflecting stars we city folk rarely see.

Next morning, same drill: no plans, just amble. Veered left from the lodge instead of right, and bingo—stumbled on a wildflower meadow bursting with butterflies, right by the water. Plonked down for a brekkie of scrambled eggs and fresh scones (devvies with clotted cream, natch), spotting kingfishers darting like jewels. Later, hired a couple of kayaks from the park’s quiet slipway—paddled into a secluded cove we’d never have found on Google. Fringed with mossy boulders and echoing with owl hoots even at noon, it was our private paradise. Laughed till we cried when I capsized trying to “impress” the kids with a fancy turn.

By day three checkout, Daisy Lodge had us hooked on its magic of mishaps and meanders. Those hidden nooks around Roadford Lake—the secret beaches, the whispering woods—reminded me why Devon’s best bits are the ones you trip over by accident. If you fancy ditching the tourist traps for proper serenity, chuck the sat-nav and head there. You won’t regret getting gloriously lost.