Every special stay begins with a breathtaking journey. Cutting across the shimmering surface of the Hawkesbury River, our water transfer to The Villa Boathouse was certainly no different. Gliding between headlands of towering native bushland and past empty bays and mangrove forests, the boat slowed as we pulled up to our abode for the next couple of nights - a waterfront house wrapped in sandstone and manicured gardens.

Each morning we woke to the sounds of birdsong and a light mist rolling over the hilltops beyond the river, we brewed coffee before returning to bed to watch the sun rise. As the day emerged, traffic on the waterfront increased - perhaps a lone kayaker would glide past, or a couple of salty sailors would putter by. Breakfast on the patio was always paired with a show - from the flying fish to the soaring eagles, no morning sight was the same.

Our days were spent on the water, kayaking the glassy passage beyond the property's private jetty, or throwing in a line to catch our own fare. Afternoons found us retreating inside to read and relax, cook and converse, perhaps curl up in bed or sprawl on the hammock. Whatever the choice, the stresses of the city seemed to drain away with each minute longer we lay by the river. The hours ran slower out there - a rhythm that takes a day or two to find, before you give in completely to the simple bliss of Hawkesbury life.