Nelson Head Lighthouse isn’t one of those towering, dramatic lighthouses you picture on postcards — it’s actually just a keeper’s cottage with a light attached. That’s part of what makes it so charming. It sits on a grassy headland above Nelson Bay, and when you walk up, the first thing you notice is the view: wide, open water stretching across Port Stephens.

The place has this gentle, lived-in feeling. You can wander through the old cottage, which is now a little maritime museum, and it feels like stepping back into a slower time when people actually lived here, keeping watch night after night. The museum is run by volunteers, so there’s always someone with a story or two about the area’s history. It’s the kind of spot where you don’t just come for the “lighthouse” (because honestly, there’s no tall tower to climb), you come for the atmosphere.

There’s a tea room on site, perfect if you want to just sit, sip, and take in the ocean breeze. It’s quiet, unpretentious, and one of those places where the mix of history and view makes you want to linger a little longer.

Why It Matters (My Take) I like Nelson Head Light because it’s humble but rich in character — unlike tall, imposing towers, this one feels more “human size”. You can imagine the lighthouse keepers living right there, looking out the window to guide ships. It’s a place where you really feel connection: to seafaring history, to community volunteers who keep it alive, and to nature around the headland.

On my trip to Australia, I found myself in a little outback town called Kurri Kurri, and it completely stole my heart. At first glance, it looks like any small town—quiet streets, modest shops, friendly faces. But then you notice the walls.

They’re alive with color, covered in murals that tell the story of the town and its people. Every corner holds a surprise: miners at work, local wildlife, families gathered together, moments of history captured in paint.

It feels like the town has decided to write its autobiography on its own walls, making sure no visitor misses what matters here.

Wandering around, I couldn’t help but slow down. The murals aren’t just art—they’re pride, memory, and identity woven into everyday life. And you can feel how much the locals cherish them.

They talk about the paintings like old friends, pointing out favorites and sharing the stories behind them. It was a feast for the eyes, yes, but also for the heart. Kurri Kurri isn’t just a stop on a map—it’s a place that wears its soul on its walls.

I got here after walking the Tilligerry Nature Walk, where the path wound through bushland and then suddenly opened to the estuary. The track skirted the shoreline, and there it was—spread wide before me, the tide pulled back like a stage curtain.

What a scene to feast my eyes on. Long stretches of wet, glistening sand shimmered in the sunlight, each ripple catching the light like glass. The trees edged the exposed flats, their roots half-buried, reaching into the mud as if they too were holding on to the tide. The sun was full in my face, warm and unrelenting, but I didn’t care. It seemed to sharpen everything—the brightness of the sand, the shimmer of the water left in shallow pools, the dark silhouettes of birds scattered across the flats.

For a while I just stood there, taking it in. It wasn’t just a view; it was a feeling—of stillness, of openness, of being caught between the forest at my back and the wide estuary breathing in front of me.

Birubi Beach is one of those places that sticks with you. The first time I stood at the lookout, I couldn’t believe the dunes just kept rolling on and on — a sea of sand that felt like another planet.

Walk a few steps down and suddenly you’re on wide, golden beach with the Pacific stretching out in front of you.

What I love about Birubi is the mix of energy and calm. A place of quiet space where it’s just you, the wind, and the ocean. The dunes themselves are the real showstopper. Along with the Camel trains lol. A memorable visit I will not forget for a long time

One of the highlights of my first trip to Australia was my visit to the beautiful Tilligerry Habitat — a nine-hectare crown reserve in Tanilba Bay, set along the foreshore of Port Stephens. This special place protects koala and wildlife habitat and also features a native plant nursery.

While we didn’t spot any koalas during our visit, I was lucky enough to capture some lovely close-up shots of a native kookaburra. The reserve is a blend of scenic forest, scrub, wetland, and coastal environments, all connected by an easy network of paths and boardwalks. The two-kilometre walk on flat gravel trails made it simple to explore while feeling completely immersed in Australia’s natural countryside. It’s a walk — and a place — I won’t forget anytime soon.

Fingal Beach feels like one of those places you stumble into and wonder why you didn’t know about it sooner. The beach itself is huge, open, and clean — the kind of sand you can walk on for ages without running into crowds.

The surf rolls in steady, but it’s not the kind of chaos you get at Bondi. If you just want to float, there are calmer patches closer to the headland. The vibe is slow and easy. There’s not much “scene” here — no flashy esplanade or strip of bars. Just a general store, a café or two, and the sound of waves carrying through the streets. It’s mostly locals and families on holidays, with kids on bikes and dogs running free. The standout is Fingal Spit. On the right day, when the sandbar is fully exposed, it looks surreal — a thin white bridge across the sea.

You’ll see people wandering over toward Shark Island, but it’s a place to respect more than conquer; the currents can flip in an instant. What sticks with you is the feeling. It’s one of those spots where time stretches out — perfect if you need a break from noise, traffic, or too many decisions. We got to it late afternoon, just before sunset, it was so relaxing.