Holidaying as a single parent is a tricky balance. You want to ringfence the kind of extended one-on-one time that can be difficult to find during term time; but too much of that and you know you’ll drive each other a little crazy. Kids need other kids, and you could do with some adult company too. You also need a break. It’s a nice idea to pack the car with camping gear and head out into the wilderness, but it can be a lot of work – and you end up in a field, attempting to put up a tent, alone.
Friends of mine have suggested holiday parks, some of them with bars and restaurants and a daily schedule of kids’ activities. That all sounds a bit overstimulating. I’d been dreaming about sinking into a quiet landscape. But would there be enough to do?
The potential answer came in the shape of One Cat Farm, a small nature reserve tucked in a remote valley in Ceredigion, west Wales, which may have the balance just right. Owners Jessie and Lyndon bought the old pig farm when they moved from London in 2013. Setting up a glamping site, running and raising it with three young children, a barely functioning bathroom and no internet was “not quite as fun” as they’d intended, they tell me, but they persevered, and after years of hard work it is – I soon discover – an incredibly special place.
The four cabins, which sleep two adults and up to three children, were designed and built by the couple and are spaced discreetly through the site. There’s a growing woodland (Jessie and Lyndon have planted more than 300 trees since moving here), a wild-swimming pond, and another where nature is left to do its thing. To the east are the Cambrian Mountains; to the west, the hidden beaches of Cardigan Bay – not that we see much of this when we first arrive, in the dark, having driven straight from school pickup. We’re met by Jessie, who shows us to our cabin, which (with double glazing and heating) is wonderfully warm. My six-year-old daughter can’t contain her excitement; she loves the cushions, the lights, the luxury bedding, and the enormous window through which we glimpse the last of the sunset. On discovering the bar of chocolate left as a welcome gift, she calls the place “paradise”.
I’m impressed by how much thought has gone into One Cat Farm. It is simple in the best kind of way, each detail carefully considered without ever feeling overbearing. On our first morning, we find pond-dipping equipment by the communal shed and head down to the water. We’ve dipped nets before without much success, but here the discoveries come thick and fast. There are newts and caddisfly larval cases, damselfly nymphs and water boatmen. Red kites wheel overhead. I strip down to my swimming costume and slip into the water; it is bitingly cold, and glorious. My daughter whoops. She’s standing by the reeds with a towel ready; I realise, with some surprise, that I’m feeling cared for, too.
Over the next few days we explore the nearby beaches, where there are resident dolphins and seals, along with miles of sand. We eat street food from the Manuka food van on the harbour wall in Aberaeron, and fresh pizza and gelato at Tafell a Tân in Llangrannog; we comb high-tide lines and peer into caves, discover mussels on rocky outcrops and stare up at sheer cliff faces. Walking the hedgerows, we forage pennywort and garlic mustard, and wild garlic in droves (Lyndon tells us to come back in autumn for the mushrooms, his favourite time of year).
It’s easy to be a visitor here, but Ceredigion faces challenges, with about 30% of children living in poverty. Jessie is keenly aware of this, and speaks passionately about the difference that places such as One Cat Farm are able to make to the local economy. “Our existence supports not just our family, but also two employees. And, because of our size, we don’t have onsite facilities like a cafe or pub, so guests go out and support local businesses.” She compares this model with those of bigger holiday sites, which are often run from afar by big businesses: “The difference between them and us is like comparing a big wealthy farm to a small subsistence farm.” Jessie and Lyndon clearly care deeply about what they do, and that the place is of benefit to the community and its wildlife.
It’s incredible to think how much must have changed here in the last decade or so, since the project began. By the pond, we spot an otter and a heron; there are rumours of polecats and a peregrine falcon. Crouching in the grass, a network of small tunnels becomes visible – evidence of voles and shrews, now permanent inhabitants.
I’m not always good at slowing down, but here it’s possible to do just that – even with a small person in tow. One night, she and I try the wood-fired outdoor baths; we soak (and splash) for hours, and watch the stars come out. It’s been ages since I’ve felt so relaxed, and so free to revel in my time with her.
While community is encouraged – there’s a communal kitchen and fire pit – it’s not enforced, and if you’ve come for quiet it is easy to be secluded. But before long my daughter has buddied up with the boys in the cabin down the slope, who are here with their dad. Soon they’re moving in a pack, playing on the rope swing, making clay models at our picnic table, drawing maps of the wood. As they head off again, I open a book, then stare at the hills, and yes, I think, it is a kind of paradise. This, I see now, is what we needed; not crowds, not endless choices and constant stimulation, but a bit of time to recoup, reconnect and get immersed in the world.
Accommodation was provided by One Cat Farm. Cabin rates start from £134 a night (sleeps two adults and up to three children), minimum two nights.
