The sat nav gave up on us somewhere outside Valence, which should have been my first clue that this trip would involve a bit more adventure than I'd bargained for. I'd been boasting to my partner about my excellent sense of direction ever since I'd successfully navigated us to Brighton without major incident, and now here we were, circling the same roundabout for the third time while I insisted the turning was "definitely just here, no, here, wait, maybe the next one." Pride comes before a fall, and apparently my fall involved a very small hire car, a very large amount of luggage, and a road that grew narrower with every optimistic kilometre.

We found La Begude de Mazenc eventually, of course, though "found" suggests more intention than was actually involved. I took a wrong turn somewhere near a vineyard that looked promising, then another wrong turn that seemed less promising, and then suddenly there it was, tucked among olive trees with that particular hush that makes you realise how noisy your own breathing has become. The property sits in the Drome Provencale, that lovely corner of Rhone-Alpes where the lavender fields start giving way to something wilder and less photographed.

My first impression, once I'd stopped apologising for our lateness and our general dishevelment, was of cool stone and unexpected space. The old farmhouse has been done up with that particular French knack for making everything look effortless, though I suspect considerable effort went into achieving it. Terracotta floors, beams that have seen centuries come and go, and a kitchen that made me immediately want to attempt something ambitious with the local market produce. My partner gave me a look that said "remember the Great Pasta Incident of 2019," and I gave a look back that said "that was completely different circumstances."

The real magic, though, happened the next morning when I decided to "just pop out for a wander" without the map I'd been given, which was still sitting helpfully on the kitchen table. I had every intention of following the suggested walking route, I truly did. But there's something about those narrow lanes, the way they curve and dip and suddenly you're somewhere that feels entirely your own discovery, even though people have presumably been walking these paths for thousands of years.

I found a chapel, or what was left of one, its stones softened by weather and time, sitting in a field of wild thyme that released its scent with every step. No sign, no information board, no other visitors making the same face of surprised delight. Just me, some very vocal crickets, and the growing realisation that I had absolutely no idea where I was. My phone had no signal, naturally. I took a photograph of a distinctive-looking olive tree, reasoning this would help me identify the route back, then immediately passed three equally distinctive-looking olive trees and began to understand that I might be in this for the long haul.

The getting lost became rather wonderful, honestly. A spring where water rushed from a stone spout, so cold it made my teeth ache. An old man in a field who waved and said something I didn't catch, then pointed vaguely upward when I attempted my best "la Begude?" with rising panic. Upward, it turned out, was correct. I climbed through scrub and scratchy things I couldn't identify, emerging eventually onto a ridge with views that made me forget to be embarrassed about my predicament. The village of La Begude de Mazenc itself, which I'd somehow circled entirely, sat below with its terracotta roofs catching the afternoon light.

I arrived back considerably later than planned, scratched about the ankles, carrying a sprig of wild lavender I'd picked somewhere along the way, to find my partner sitting on the terrace with a book and a glass of something local and pink. "Nice walk?" they asked, with the particular tone of someone who had predicted exactly this outcome. I sat down, accepted the glass that was poured for me, and watched the light change over the hills I had just accidentally conquered.

Some places you plan, and some places find you when you're not looking, and I'm still not entirely certain which category this one falls into.