I’ll never forget the drive to Wrinklewood Premier Sea View in Ilfracombe – our three-day jaunt to North Devon started with a classic family holiday cock-up. Picture this: we’re trundling along the A39 from Barnstaple, kids in the back bickering over who gets the last Haribo, when I realise I’ve left the sat-nav charging cable at home. No worries, I thought, we’ll wing it with the phone. Big mistake. Fifteen minutes of circling a roundabout near Combe Martin later, we’re all hollering like it’s the end of days, and my other half is muttering about my “legendary sense of direction”. Laughable now, but at the time, it felt like the omens weren’t great for our relaxed sea-view escape.

Finally, we pull up to Wrinklewood, nestled in that hilly spot just above Ilfracombe with panoramic views over the Bristol Channel. It’s one of those Premier Sea View lodges – think plush wooden haven, all mod cons wrapped in that cosy North Devon charm. The moment we parked on the gravel drive, the sea breeze hit us, carrying that salty tang mixed with wild gorse from the nearby hills. The kids bolted out, wide-eyed, while I fumbled with the key code like a proper numpty. Door swings open, and blimey, it’s even better than the pics. High ceilings, squishy sofas begging for a collapse, and floor-to-ceiling windows framing the endless ocean. You could see the waves crashing on the rocks below, with fishing boats bobbing about like toys. First impressions? Pure bliss after our road rage detour.

We dumped the bags and cracked open the welcome pack – fresh milk, biscuits, and a cheeky bottle of local cider that screamed “slow down and unwind”. Chaos ensued straight away, of course. Little ones racing round the open-plan kitchen, one knocking over a vase (thankfully plastic), while I tried to play the calm dad and ended up spilling tea on my lap. Lodge life, eh? It’s all part of the fun – that joyful disorder you only get on a family break. We flopped onto the balcony with mugs in hand, watching the sun dip towards the horizon. The view was mesmerising: Capstone Hill to one side, the rugged cliffs stretching out, and in the distance, the faint outline of Lundy Island on a clear day. No traffic noise, just gulls squawking and the rhythmic whoosh of the sea. It felt like we’d stepped into a postcard.

That first afternoon, we kept it simple – no grand plans, just pottering. A short stroll down the lane led us to the Tunnels Beaches path, that warren of Victorian tunnels carved into the rock. The kids were in heaven, echoing shouts bouncing off the walls as we emerged onto the sandy cove. We paddled in the rock pools, hunting for crabs, with the Premier lodge’s lights twinkling above like a beacon calling us back. Back home for fish and chips from the local chippy (Ilfracombe does ’em proper, wrapped in paper and dripping vinegar), eaten on the balcony as the sky turned pink. Pure, unadulterated joy in the mess – sand everywhere, chips going cold, but who cares?

As evening settled, I had a quiet moment of reflection while the family dozed off to the sound of waves. Staring out those massive windows, I thought about how we’re always rushing – work, school runs, the daily grind. Here at Wrinklewood, it all melted away. It’s the simple stuff that recharges you: the sea’s endless murmur, the lodge’s warm glow against the twilight, that feeling of being properly present. North Devon has this magic, doesn’t it? A gentle nudge to breathe. First impressions sealed it – this place was spot on for our little family reset. Can’t wait to return, sat-nav or no.