I’ll never forget the drive up to 6 Strathtay Lodges in Perthshire last autumn – that golden time of year when the Highlands put on their finest show, all fiery leaves and crisp mornings that make you feel alive. It was mid-October, and I’d set off from Perth early, winding along the A827 towards Aberfeldy with a boot full of wellies and a thermos of tea. The Tummel Valley was ablaze with russet and amber, birch trees shedding their coats like confetti under a sky that couldn’t decide if it was brooding or benevolent. About five miles out, disaster struck in the form of a rogue pheasant – yes, one of those plump birds darted right across the road near Grandtully. I slammed on the brakes, heart in my mouth, spilling my tea all over the passenger seat. “Sodding wildlife,” I muttered, laughing at myself as I mopped up the mess with a service station napkin. A proper daft start, but it set the tone: this was Perthshire in autumn, full of surprises.

Pulling into the drive at 6 Strathtay Lodges around noon, I was gobsmacked. Tucked just outside Aberfeldy, these six timber lodges sit in a neat row overlooking the River Tay, with the Strathtay hills rising like velvet curtains in the distance. The season had turned the whole scene into a postcard – leaves crunching underfoot in shades of burnt orange, the river sparkling silver under weak sun, and that fresh, loamy scent that screams Scottish autumn. Mine was number 6, the end one, with a private deck peering straight at the water. Unlocking the door, I stepped into pure cosiness: wood-panelled walls glowing warm against the chill outside, a wood-burning stove already laid with kindling (bless the cleaners), and big sash windows framing the view. It was like the lodge had been waiting for me, all hot underfoot from the underfloor heating – a godsend when the mercury dips as it does in October.

First impressions? Blissfully peaceful, yet alive with the season’s hum. I dumped my bags and headed straight out for a wander along the river path, just a stone’s throw from the lodges. The Tay was in full autumn flow, higher than summer levels from recent rains, murmuring over pebbles while mallards bobbed about. Overhead, the trees were a riot of colour – oaks heavy with copper leaves, rowans dripping red berries that the birds were scoffing. I crunched along for a mile or so towards the Wade’s Bridge area, spotting a red squirrel darting up a trunk, its tail a fluffy question mark. The air nipped at my cheeks, sharp and invigorating, carrying the faint smoke of someone’s bonfire nearby. Back at the lodge by late afternoon, the light was fading fast – that early twilight of autumn – so I lit the stove. Crackling flames danced as I brewed a pot of tea, sinking into the plush sofa with a sigh. From the deck, wrapped in a blanket, I watched the mist roll in off the water, turning the hills ethereal. It was magical, that soft gloaming where day blurs into night.

Evening brought the first real test of autumnal charm: a cosy dinner in. The lodge’s kitchen was kitted out brilliantly – induction hob, all the gadgets – so I rustled up venison stew (local butcher in Aberfeldy had the goods that morning). Eating by candlelight as rain pattered on the roof, I felt a quiet moment of reflection. Here I was, mid-forties, city-bound usually, yet this three-day jaunt had me pondering how often we chase far-flung holidays when gems like this are on our doorstep. Perthshire in autumn doesn’t shout; it whispers, wrapping you in its mellow embrace. No crowds, just the rustle of leaves and the river’s lullaby.

Next morning dawned frosty, the deck rails rimed with ice, but the sun pierced through, gilding everything. I nipped down to the Aberfeldy distillery trail nearby – a short stroll – for a dram tasting, the peaty whisky warming me against the seasonal bite. The whole stay felt shaped by October’s palette: vibrant days, intimate nights, that perfect balance of wild and welcoming. 6 Strathtay Lodges nailed it – my first impressions? Hooked for life.