I finally made it to Saundersfoot after a bit of a faff on the drive down from the Midlands – nothing major, just a rogue seagull splatting right across my windscreen near Tenby, turning my pristine view into a Jackson Pollock masterpiece. I pulled over at the first layby, scrubbing it off with a half-empty bottle of screenwash and a soggy tissue, chuckling to myself about how that's proper British holiday luck right there. By the time I trundled into Freshwater East, just a couple of miles south of Saundersfoot, the sky was that classic Pembrokeshire grey, promising adventure or a drenching – who knew?

The 2 Bed Lodge sat tucked away in a peaceful spot overlooking the bay, all cosy timber and welcoming vibes. I parked up, grabbed my rucksack stuffed with wellies and waterproofs (lesson learned from last year's sogginess), and let myself in. First impressions? Bloody brilliant. The open-plan living area had this massive window framing the beach below – Freshwater East's wide sweep of golden sand stretching out like a postcard, even under the clouds. It was compact but spot-on for a solo three-day jaunt: two snug bedrooms upstairs, a kitchen kitted out with everything from a Nespresso pod machine (hero) to a slow cooker for any rainy-day stews. I dumped my bags, brewed a cuppa, and just stood there, inhaling that salty sea air wafting through the cracked window. It felt like instant holiday mode.

Day one kicked off with optimism. The forecast mumbled something about "bright spells," so I laced up my boots for a hike along the coastal path from the lodge straight down to the beach. It's only a five-minute stroll to the sand, but blimey, what a stunner. Waves crashing in, dunes dotted with marram grass, and not a soul in sight bar a couple of dog-walkers. I headed north along the cliffs towards Saundersfoot, the path winding up gently with views that make your chest go all expansive. The wind was brisk but the sun peeked out, turning the sea that impossible turquoise. I was grinning like an idiot, snapping pics of rock pools teeming with crabs and imagining myself as some intrepid explorer. Halfway up, I spotted seals lounging on the rocks below – proper wildlife magic, that.

But oh, the weather – it's the ultimate Welsh wildcard. By midday, the sky darkened like a mood swing, and the heavens opened. What was meant to be a full circuit back via Saundersfoot harbour turned into a tactical retreat. Sodden to the skin despite my "waterproof" jacket (note to self: invest in better gear), I dashed back to the lodge, laughing at the absurdity. Dripping puddles in the porch, I peeled off layers and cranked the heating, the lodge's underfloor warmth a godsend. Peering out, the bay was shrouded in mist, rain lashing the windows – no more hikes today, then. Instead, I toasted teacakes by the fire pit (sheltered enough for a cheeky go), pondering how these curveballs make the good bits sweeter.

Come afternoon, a break in the clouds lured me out again, this time for a shorter amble around the Freshwater East headland. The path loops right from the lodge, all gorse bushes and wildflowers nodding in the breeze. Sunbeams sliced through, gilding the wet sand, and I timed it just right for low tide, pottering among the rock formations. A rainbow arched over the bay – cue that gentle "aha" moment, stood there ankle-deep in a puddle, realising these spontaneous weather pivots are what I crave. No rigid plans, just the thrill of adapting, boots squelching, heart full from the raw beauty of it all.

Evening wrapped with fish and chips from Saundersfoot's takeaway strip (a quick mile's walk, worth every soggy step), eaten on the lodge deck as the storm cleared to stars. First impressions sealed: this place is hiking heaven, weather whims and all. Can't wait for day two's whatever-it-brings.