I’ll never forget the drive down to Porthleven in early autumn – that crisp October bite in the air turning the Cornish hedgerows into a patchwork of gold and rust, with leaves swirling like confetti in the wind. Me and the missus had piled into the car from up country, the satnav promising a swift three hours, but wouldn’t you know it, I took a wrong turn just past Helston and ended up in a narrow lane that dead-ended at some farmer’s gate. Classic me – the man who once got lost in his own garden maze. A quick reverse and a sheepish U-turn later, we were back on track, laughing about it over a thermos of tea as the sun dipped low, painting the sky in those dramatic sunset hues that only Cornwall pulls off properly.

Pulling up to Lowarth Lodge Spa Pet just as dusk was settling in felt like stumbling into a proper hug from the countryside. Tucked away in a peaceful spot near Porthleven – close enough to nip into the village but far enough to feel like your own private bolthroat – this pet-friendly lodge is the sort of place that whispers “relax” from the moment you spot its cosy stone exterior glowing under the fairy lights. It’s autumn here, mind, so the gardens were a riot of fallen leaves crunching underfoot, and the air carried that earthy, damp scent of woodsmoke from nearby chimneys. Perfect for our three-day jaunt, especially with our scruffy border terrier, Monty, who was already sniffing out adventures.

Stepping inside for those first impressions? Blimey, it was love at first sight. The open-plan living area opened up like a warm embrace – plush sofas piled with cushions in earthy tones, a wood-burning stove already set with kindling (cheers to that, given the chill creeping in), and a kitchen kitted out with everything from a Nespresso machine to local pasty-making kit. But the real star? That private hot tub and sauna out the back, steaming gently under a canopy of turning foliage. In October’s mellow light, with mist rolling in from the sea just a short stroll away, it looked like something out of a posh magazine. Monty gave it the once-over, circled three times, and flopped down as if he owned the place.

First evening, we didn’t venture far – why would you, when the lodge is this inviting? We cracked open a bottle of Cornish cider (picked up from a farm shop en route), chucked some logs on the fire, and let the seasonal magic do its thing. Outside, the wind was picking up, rattling the windows with that proper autumn gusto, but in here it was toasty bliss. I had a gentle moment then, staring into the flames, thinking how daft it is that we city folk wait for holidays like this to actually breathe. Work’s been manic, you know? Deadlines piling up like autumn leaves. But sat there, with the faint crash of waves from Porthleven’s beach echoing in the distance, I felt that knot in my chest loosen. Simple as that.

Next morning – our first full day – dawned misty and golden, the kind of soft October light that makes everything feel a tad magical. After brekkie of scrambled eggs and smoked kippers (fridge was stocked with local treats), we wrapped up in coats and wellies for a wander down to Porthleven’s harbour. It’s only a ten-minute pootle, but in autumn, the village transforms: fishing boats bobbing in slate-grey waters, crab pots stacked high, and the air thick with the smell of frying chips from the harbourside stalls. We grabbed takeaway fish and chips – crispy batter, steaming hot against the chill – and ate them on the beach, watching surfers in wetsuits tackle the swells. Monty chased seaweed like it was his job, coming back covered in sand and grinning like a fool.

Back at the lodge by lunchtime, the seasonal shift really shone through. That hot tub called our names – bubbling away amid the rustling sycamores shedding their leaves like they were auditioning for a nature documentary. Slipping in with a cuppa, the warmth seeping into chilled bones while the world turned amber around us? Pure heaven. The sauna was next, all cedar-scented steam loosening the autumn stiffness from our joints. Light-hearted giggles ensued when Monty tried to join us, pawing at the door like we were having a party without him.

By evening, as the sun set early in that deep orange glow, we lit the stove again and planned bugger all. Porthleven’s cosy pubs were tempting – a pint at the harbour inn, maybe – but the lodge’s pull was stronger. It’s the way autumn frames it all: shorter days urging you indoors to savour the slow life, the fading light making every hot cuppa and crackling fire feel like a small triumph. Those first impressions? They’ve got me plotting a return next leaf-fall. Couldn’t ask for a better base to let the season wrap you up.