I’ll never forget the drive to Larkstone Elegance Premier in Ilfracombe – a proper North Devon jaunt that started with me spilling my entire flask of builder’s tea all over the passenger seat just past Barnstaple. Sod’s law, innit? There I was, cursing under my breath, wiping it up with a service station napkin while the A39 wound its way along the coast, the sea peeking out like it was having a cheeky gander. It was only a minor disaster, but it set the tone for a three-day whirlwind where the British weather took centre stage, turning every plan into an improv act.

We rocked up at the cottage mid-afternoon on day one, knackered but buzzing. Larkstone Elegance Premier is one of those spot-on holiday lets – a chic little stone-fronted beauty tucked into the hillside, with panoramic views over the Bristol Channel that hit you like a tonic. First impressions? Blimey, it’s lush. The open-plan living space is all light and airy, with massive windows framing the waves crashing below. We dumped our bags, cracked open a couple of tins, and stepped out onto the terrace. The sun was doing its best impression of a Mediterranean holiday – rare as hen’s teeth up here – so we figured we’d crack on with a hike straight away. No faffing about; North Devon’s on your doorstep, after all.

Off we toddled down to the Tunnels Beaches path, that iconic clifftop stroll just a stone’s throw from the cottage. It’s proper dramatic – jagged cliffs plunging into the sea, gulls screeching overhead like they own the place. The tide pools glittered under the sun, and we pottered about, me pretending I was David Attenborough spotting a rare crab. “Look at the little fella, battling the elements!” I quipped, nearly slipping on some seaweed for comic effect. Half an hour in, and we were proper chuffed, lungs full of salty air, plotting a longer trek to the Valley of Rocks for tomorrow.

But oh, the weather – that fickle North Devon beast. Day two dawned with a cheeky mist rolling in off the Channel, turning our grand Valley of Rocks ambitions into a comedy of errors. We set off anyway, boots laced, thermoses in hand, following the South West Coast Path towards Hele Bay. It’s only a couple of miles, but blimey, the path hugs those cliffs like a limpet. The mist thickened into drizzle, then proper mizzle, soaking us to the skin. “This is character-building,” I yelled over the wind, laughing as my hood flipped inside out. We pressed on, past wild goats munching on the scrub (yes, actual feral goats – North Devon’s not messing about), until the rain turned biblical. Plan B: abort to the nearest cove for a soggy picnic under a windswept parasol at a beach café. Fish and chips never tasted so good, wrapped in newspaper, with sand in our socks.

By evening, hunkered back at the cottage, the clouds parted like they’d had a telling-off. Sunbeams lit up the lounge, and we nursed hot mugs of tea, watching the lighthouse at Bull Point blink in the distance. That night, cosy in the plush king-size bed with its sea views, I had a proper moment of reflection. Here I was, mid-forties, chasing hikes in the wet instead of spreadsheets back home. It hit me – these daft weather-whipped walks, the spills and squelching trainers, they’re what recharge the batteries. No gym membership needed; just cliffs, clouds, and a bit of British grit.

Day three? More of the same glorious chaos. A bracing yomp along Capstone Hill, right on Ilfracombe’s edge, where the sun fought the showers like a proper boxer. One minute golden light on the Victorian pier, next a rainbow arching over the harbour. We zigzagged the paths, dodging puddles the size of lakes, ending up windswept and grinning at the top, with the cottage winking back at us below. Larkstone Elegance Premier isn’t just a stay; it’s a launchpad for these moody coastal adventures. If you fancy three days of hikes dictated by the sky gods, with a swish bolthole to crash in after, this is your spot. North Devon’s weather might change your plans, but it’ll never dull the thrill. Cheers to that – and next time, I’m packing a spare flask.