I arrived in San Remo just in time for lunch and landed at a vibey café serving wickedly good coffee. The sun was shining — and so were the pelicans, gathered by the shore. Naturally, I wandered down to investigate. Lunch, of course. A perfectly valid reason for all that flapping about. Driving around the bend toward my accommodation, I stumbled upon an easy-breezy beach lookout with sweeping views of Phillip Island. I’d be crossing that bridge soon enough to explore a taste of island life.

Nestled among the trees at the back of a quiet paddock, I found my pocket of paradise — a cozy, character-filled retreat with a bohemian swing on the front porch. My heart was singing. Inside, the glass door opened to a spacious lounge/kitchen/dining area. It felt grand — just like my heart. Sunlight spilled through the windows, casting a golden glow across the adobe-style interior. Everything felt wholesome. Light. Airy. Like a warm, living hug. The bathroom smelled like the Australian bush after rain and featured a deeeLUXE spa bath and a generous shower. I claimed the main bedroom as mine and quickly converted the second into my yoga and dressing room.

Later, I gathered some kindling beneath a big old tree and lit the outdoor fire pit. With a cheeky cuppa in hand, I melted into the swing and watched the sun slip quietly below the horizon. The air was still — and so was I. It was the kind of slow evening my soul had been craving. I’d pre-ordered a brekky hamper from my lovely hosts, and they did not hold back: fresh orange juice, free-range eggs, juicy tomatoes, mushrooms, and crusty sourdough. After whipping up a proper feast, I set off for Punchbowl Beach.

I found the beach along a walking track — but I wanted to be on that beach. So, I followed my curious soul and abseiled down the cliff. I wasn’t the first adventurer here; some kind soul had left ropes behind to guide the way. At the bottom, I explored craggy rocks and hidden caves, passing a few hopeful fisher-folk along the way. No fish — or feelings — were caught for those playing along at home.

I sat on the deserted beach, letting sand sift slowly through my fingers while the waves rolled in around me. I took three deep, salty breaths. One… two… three.

After climbing back up the cliff and wandering to my car, I returned to my abode — the place I now called home.

I may have overdone the essential oils and ran myself a steamy bath anyway. The deep breathing continued long into the afternoon. Another swing sesh. Another fire. Another night under the stars, making wishes on shooting ones. A late checkout was kindly granted, and a slow morning was gratefully received. After offering thanks to my little haven, I followed my heart to the island and landed at the ever-so-famous Phillip Island Winery.

There, I befriended fellow wine tasters. We treated ourselves to a colourful paddle and tried on every hat in the gift shop — as you do. With a new velvet hat perched on my head and a bottle of sparkling Shiraz in tow (soon to be shared with my bubble-loving friend Amber), I set off on a final mission to spot a Cape Barren goose.

And with that, I continued living life with a full, grand heart — just like my stay.