Secret Tasmania: A place of pure magic right here in Australia

A solo retreat to Sisters Beach provides surprise and introspection.

Her name is Vivaldi, but she hasn't made music in a long time. The sagging hull of her canary yellow frame has faded in the sun and I can see right through the casuarina needles below. I imagine all the things she would have seen in her time. Permanently moored in the garden of this home, under two ancient pine trees that stand like bodyguards between the creek and me.

What were the others who came before me doing in this very same spot? Were they sipping port as I am now, wrapped in a blanket to shield the creeping night and watching the seagulls dunk their heads into the brackish water snaking into Bass Strait.

Little fairy wrens catch my eye. Cobalt bullets shooting past, their tails wagging like excited labradors as they stand atop the old tree stump on the dune. The sand slopes to allow the perfect window to the world of Sisters Beach. A place where I can watch in awe and it can watch me back.

The only sound, when the seagulls and wrens shush, is the dance of the ocean. I take another sip and smile.

In this place, surrounded on two sides by nature, I've come to retreat inwards but find myself increasingly pulled outside. Swaddled by Rocky Cape National Park, Sisters Beach lies tucked away on Tasmania's north-west coast and, while it's been a long-loved summer holiday destination for families from the Apple Isle, it remains blissfully off the radar of most Aussie travellers.

It's a hamlet of shacks, and some more modern interpretations, but I'm in arguably its most endearing - an A-frame that has stood sentinel over the sands since the 1960s. It's positioned quite literally in the sand dunes. Owner Emma Woods fell in love with it as soon as she clapped eyes on the real estate ad in a lockdown-induced dreaming phase and, along with her partner Charlie Whittaker-Smith, completely redesigned its interiors to become a holiday rental called Arku House.

With a strong Mediterranean influence, walls are Venetian plaster and the once-dark fireplace has been reborn with a coat of white paint and flames at the flick of the remote. Curved archways lead into the slim kitchen space, which is well equipped (Sodastream and mezzaluna, included), and sheer white curtains billow as I open glass French doors to the large wooden deck.

Upstairs, the main Queen bed feels as though it is floating above the ethereal scene outside. There's another bedroom tucked into the loft space, as well as a reading space, while the bathroom - with its spa-like towel warmer - is downstairs. I even have my own private cinema and bar in the gussied-up shed behind the A-frame.

My mornings start with a stroll along the sand, nodding to the locals walking their dogs, and each fairy floss sunset is accompanied by a ritual of pouring a port from the vintage decanter and sitting back to enjoy it from the daybed on the deck.

I can't speak for the Christmas holidays, but midweek in early December, I count human encounters on one hand: The windsurfer heading out to skid across the bay, the couple with their toddler playing in the sand, the retirees sipping their coffee at the table next to the beach toy library.

There's a French press in the kitchen, but I prefer to wander across the little wooden bridge and along the kerb-free streets to Little Sisters General Store for my morning coffee, where they also serve breakfast, lunch and pizzas paired with live tunes on Fridays. Bunnies skitter across lawns back into their hiding places and I watch the ubiquitous splendid fairy wrens flit between the banksias.

"I try not to leave if I can help it," cafe owner, Luke Tokarski, says as he places a burger in front of me one day. "I hate even going to Wynyard for groceries."

Here is a very splendid isolation, indeed. Far but, with Woolies a 20-minute drive away, still not too far to restock the pantry. Some days I venture out and what I find fills my belly and soul in unexpected ways (see breakout) but when I close my eyes I'm back at that beach, waking in that bed, watching the world through a dream-like lens.

Read more on Explore:

Rocky Cape National Park: The quartzite peaks of Rocky Cape National Park hide within them a series of Aboriginal caves, which you can access via walking trails from the western end of Sisters Beach or by taking the 30-minute drive to the lighthouse within the national park. Best short walk? The 1.6-kilometre Banksia Grove/Caves Circuit dishes up a stand of beautiful saw banksias, middens and caves. parks.tas.gov.au

Day with an Indigenous Elder: A smoking ceremony at West Point paves the way for a day of deep connection to the traditional owners of north-west Tasmania on this recently launched tour, departing from Smithton. Here, vast middens and hut depressions remain as a whisper of the past when west-coast clan groups lived and traded here. Tasmanian Aboriginal Elder Dianne Baldock shares her knowledge and spiritual connection during this experience, which might include the laraturunawn petroglyphs at Sundown Point, Trowutta Arch in the Tarkine Rainforest and Green Point in Marrawah, but can be tailored to suit. northwesttasmaniatours.com

Tarkine Fresh Oysters: The 50-minute drive to Tarkine Fresh Oysters in Smithton is worth every minute. Pulled fresh that day from Duck Bay, most of the mineral-y morsels are promptly exported but those who venture to the humble shopfront are treated to their incredible flavour at the source. Book ahead for an on-shore oyster farming tour. tarkinefreshoysters.com.au

Getting there: Sisters Beach is a two-hour-plus drive north-west from Launceston or 75 minutes from the Spirit of Tasmania ferry terminal in Devonport.

Staying there: Arku House sleeps four, from $375 per night.

Explore more: arkuhouse.com.au

The writer travelled at their own expense with assistance from Arku House and Tourism Tasmania.