I’ll never forget the drive to No. 7 The Vista in Woolacombe – a proper Devon jaunt that started with me spilling half a thermos of tea all over the dashboard just past Barnstaple. “Brilliant,” I muttered to the missus and the kids, wiping up the mess with a knackered old tea towel while the sat-nav cheerily announced we were only 20 minutes from paradise. It was one of those daft mishaps that sets the tone for a family holiday: chaotic, but in the best possible way. We were off for a three-day breather in this chic little beachside lodge, tucked into Willingcott Valley, and honestly, from that soggy start, it only got better.

Pulling up to No. 7 felt like stumbling into a mate’s posh garden shed – but one with sea views that could make your jaw drop. The place is part of a cluster of these smart lodges, all hot tubs and decking, right on the edge of the North Devon coast path. Ours was the end one, No. 7, with floor-to-ceiling windows framing the wild Atlantic like a living painting. We arrived mid-afternoon on a breezy July day, the sun peeking through scudding clouds, and the kids – aged 8 and 11 – were out the car like feral ferrets, racing straight for the deck. “Can we jump in the hot tub now, Dad?” they yelled, before I’d even turned off the engine. I laughed, hauling our bags up the steps, thinking how this was already ticking every box for a proper relaxed family do.

First impressions? Blimey, it was spot on. Inside, it’s all Scandi-cool vibes: plush grey sofas that practically swallowed you whole, a telly bigger than our lounge wall back home, and a kitchen kitted out with every gadget known to man. I cracked open the complimentary bottle of fizz (cheers, Snaptrip!) while the other half sorted snacks, and we just stood there gawping at the vista. Woolacombe Beach stretched out below, golden sands curving round to Baggy Point, with surfers dotting the waves like seals in wetsuits. It’s that classic Devon magic – rugged cliffs, crashing surf, and not a hint of city stress. The lodge sits high enough for uninterrupted views but close enough to wander down to the beach in flip-flops. We did exactly that after unpacking: a five-minute yomp along the coast path, past gorse bushes buzzing with bees, and suddenly we were knee-deep in sand, building lopsided castles while the tide nipped at our toes.

That first evening was pure lodge life bliss, laced with the sort of minor pandemonium that makes family holidays memorable. The hot tub was calling, steaming away on the private deck like a bubbling jacuzzi from a posh spa ad. We piled in – me, the wife, the kids, all in our MandS cossies – and it was heaven, bubbles churning as we watched the sun dip behind the headland, painting the sky in pinks and oranges. The littlest one declared it “better than Centre Parcs,” which had us in stitches, especially when he splashed everyone like a mini tsunami. Dinner was a faff of epic proportions: I burned the sausages on the fancy outdoor grill (note to self: gas takes getting used to), so we salvaged it with fish and chips from down the road in Mortehoe – proper greasy, salty perfection wrapped in paper, eaten picnic-style on the deck as seals barked from the rocks below.

As the stars popped out that night, I sat with a cuppa, listening to the distant whoosh of waves, and had a proper moment of reflection. Life back home’s a whirl of school runs and deadlines, but here, in this cosy nook with the family giggling over board games inside, it hit me: these simple pleasures – a spilled tea, sandy toes, a shared laugh over charred bangers – are what recharge the batteries. No. 7 The Vista nailed that relaxed Devon vibe from the off, turning arrival into instant escape. If you’re after a family break that’s equal parts chill and cheerful chaos, this is your spot. We were already plotting our return before we’d even unpacked the flip-flops properly.