Bookmark this airbnb for your next nature escape

The River Mawddach snakes down through Snowdonia, branching out into the fields and woodlands with spindly fingers, and meets the sea in a wide, sandy estuary between Barmouth and Fairbourne. The surrounding valley is an abundant wildlife sanctuary teeming with flycatchers, redstarts and wood warblers. It’s a dramatic landscape, continually changing with the tides but virtually untouched by time. And tucked discreetly into its craggy coastline, overlooking a secluded bay and surrounded by marshy wetland and heath, is a little blue shepherd's hut.

We arrive in the afternoon after a short stay in Barmouth, the nearby seaside town. It’s just ten or fifteen minutes away, but it feels worlds apart. Inside the shepherd’s hut, there’s a double bed, woodburning stove, kitchenette with sink and kettle, and a small but modern bathroom. A simple and cosy place to detach from reality for a bit. Outside there’s a picnic table, a fire pit, and around the side of the hut on a patio overlooking the river, there’s a hot tub. But it’s the land itself, the uninterrupted space that stretches out in front of it, dips down into the bay and then carries on for miles, that is the true beauty of this place.

There’s not much to do here. That’s the appeal for us after a few days of beaching, pubbing and rambling. We take a quick wander down to the beach, squelching into the low-tide muck in our hiking boots, before climbing up to a little lookout over the estuary. From there, the shepherd’s hut is a blue dot amongst the trees. Its little window glinting in the sunshine. 

We amble back and spread out the picnic we got in town, Welsh cheese, cured meats, a bottle of red wine, and watch the sunset. It’s exactly the kind of evening that makes you want to hide away forever. And as it gets darker we lift the top off the hot tub and slide in with our wine, watching the dusk set over the mountains on the other side.

Sadly, we’re only here for one night – so the next day we rise early to make the most of it. The morning is clear and warm and we have our coffees in the sunshine, sat out in the dewy grass. A woodpecker raps against the exposed insides of a nearby tree. Robins and chaffinches flit from branch to branch chittering to one another. Seagulls coast the estuary as the tide comes in. We hate to leave. The only consolation is we know, with places like this, we’ll be back.