The day was unusually bright for autumn, and I was happy to follow the path into the bush. Here, eucalypts and blackwoods formed a rich canopy that hid a wonderland of dappled sunlight and ferns that carpeted the forest floor.

I breathed in the air, so noticeably fresher than that in Sydney, before ambling down the path. It meandered between trees and bushes, past a gurgling stream that eventually tumbled down a waterfall. Resting on a bench, I contemplated its gentle sound, and those of the forest – the shrill of the cicada, the screech of the cockatoo, the rings of the lyrebird, the laugh of the kookaburra – before continuing on. After a delightful half-an-hour of meandering, the path emerged into a meadow. I stepped into the light…