I finally made it to Enniskillen after a bit of a faff on the drive down from Belfast – nothing major, just me taking a wrong turn onto some narrow back lane because SatNav decided to have a mid-journey sulk and reroute me through a field. Bloody typical, innit? But hey, that's how you stumble on the good stuff, and by the time I pulled up to No 4, that little mishap felt like a cheeky invitation to get properly lost in Fermanagh's hidden corners.

No 4 is this cosy stone cottage tucked away on the edge of Enniskillen, right by the shimmering waters of Lough Erne. From the moment I parked up – gravel crunching under the tyres – it felt like stepping into a secret. The owner, a lovely local chap called Seamus, handed me the keys with a grin and a "Mind the ducks, they think they own the place." Sure enough, a gang of them waddled over, eyeing my boots like I was the intruder. I dumped my bags in the lounge, with its cracking wood burner (not lit yet, but promising cosiness) and those big windows framing the lough like a painting. First impressions? Pure bliss. It's got that proper Irish charm – low ceilings, a kitchen stocked with tea and biscuits (God bless the Irish), and a patio that practically begs you to crack open a pint and watch the herons fish.

But the real magic kicked off when I decided to wander, no map, no plan. That's the joy of No 4 – it's close enough to town for a quick shop at the Spar, but far enough to nudge you into the wilds. I followed a footpath from the garden that Seamus mentioned in passing, "leads to nowt much, but it's grand." Turned out it was a belter. Within minutes, I'd ditched the main road and found myself on a winding trail along the lough's edge, where the water laps right up to reed-fringed banks you'd never spot from the car. No tourists, no signs – just me, the wind whistling through the rushes, and a sudden flash of otters slipping into the water. I laughed out loud at myself, phone in hand for a rubbish photo that wouldn't do it justice. Who needs Instagram when you've got this?

Day one blurred into proper exploration. Got lost again behind the cottage, pushing through a gap in the hedges that opened onto a forgotten wee meadow. Wildflowers everywhere, butterflies doing their thing, and in the distance, the ruins of an old castle turret poking up like a forgotten story. I plonked down on a rock, munched a cheese sarnie from the cottage fridge, and watched swallows dart over the water. Felt a proper moment of reflection there – you know, one of those "why do I ever bother with cities?" bits. Back in London, I'm rushing about like a headless chicken, but here, accidentally unearthing these pockets of peace? It's a reminder to slow down, let the path lead you.

Evening brought another gem: stumbling on a hidden jetty just a ten-minute amble from No 4. No boats moored, just a rickety bench facing the sunset over the lough. I sat there with a cuppa from my flask, chuckling at the earlier duck standoff – they'd won, claiming the patio as their turf while I supped in solitude. The sky turned all pink and gold, mirroring on the water, and I thought, this is it, innit? No grand itinerary, just serendipitous finds that make a three-day jaunt feel like a lifetime recharge.

Next morning, same vibe. A wrong turn down a boreen near the cottage led to a secluded beachy bit of shoreline – soft sand, dragonflies skimming the shallows, perfect for skimmin' stones. No one's about, bar a farmer nodding from his tractor. Back at No 4 for lunch, I fired up the kettle, gazed out at the lough, and realised these off-the-beaten-path spots are the real draw. Enniskillen's got its bustle, but from this little haven, getting lost is the best itinerary going. Can't wait to return and lose myself all over again.