I holidayed like they used to in the good old days - and time slowed down

The Myall River at Tea Gardens is pushing close to a king tide, and as my partner and I tuck into eggs and a burger at the Boatshed cafe, the water laps up through the decking, like hands reaching under our stools to grab our feet and pull us in.

On the shoreline, a man throws a stick for his border collie, which enthusiastically jumps into the river to fetch its prey. Its sodden coat reveals a wiry frame - a wild thing - under the fluff.

We shriek as the water climbs to meet our feet, the way an excited toddler squeals before jumping into a cool pool. Like the "water collie" jumping into the river, it feels as though we have entered into something thrilling and lawless.

After only two nights of staying in a delightfully quirky glamping tent at Reflections Jimmys Beach Holiday & Caravan Park at Hawks Nest, we have become one with the surrounding nature. I watch a brush turkey scratch around in the scrub and realise it's time to forage for dinner. As my partner barbecues our IGA-bought steaks, we listen to the cicada chorus.

By 8pm, the insect cacophony has faded with the light, making way for the park's night beasts, like the beer-drinking dad who burps loudly while thong-clopping to the pool toilets next to our abode. Reflections' motto is "life's better outside." They're right - there are certainly fewer rules.

I sleep dreamlessly that first night, the air conditioning struggling to keep the heat at bay, and am woken only briefly by our neighbours giggling as they become merry with camping zeal in the descending darkness.

The following day, our cicada friends start promptly at 7am, rolling out of their leaf beds in the fecund bush, and with a "one, two, three," the conductor begins, and so does the insect choir, hailing the rising sun.

Breakfast is meat pies. We're allowed because we're on holiday, and the home rules don't apply here. We are becoming nostalgic for the childhood holidays of yore. It started on the drive up from Sydney, past the old Oak milk factory at Hexham, where my partner used to stop for choccy milk when visiting his aunty as a kid.

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When we met the water around the turnoff to Nelson Bay, pelicans kept a lookout from their vantage points - a street light here, a bridge overpass there. The birds rule here: we later found out that a protected osprey nest had stopped a telco from upgrading the technology on its local phone tower.

Driving into Tea Gardens, we spied a sign to tune our car to Myall Coast Radio, and another to watch out for koalas. I kicked my shoes off and perched my feet on the dash. Summer holidays had arrived.

At 2 Fat Bakers Bakery, I consider the pros and cons of some delicious-sounding meat pie creations - surf and turf, and bangers and mash - before choosing jalapeno beef and cheese. My partner declares his cheeseburger beef pie "just like McDonald's," and the child in me reckons this is a good thing.

One of the bakery owners, Paris Battle, recommends the spaghetti bolognese pie - "like dinner, in a pie". A customer, Trudy, implores us not to leave without trying one of the large, house-made cinnamon doughnuts. "Don't judge me," she told her children when they laughed at her for indulging in one every day of their holiday. The only things that rule more than the birds around here are the kids.

Tummies full, we hit the Myall River in our Lazy Paddles kayaks, tour guide Darren directing us into the mangroves. Among the gnarly trunks, we have a privileged view of secret bird life.

A cormorant disappears under the water, a black swan stands tall among the thicket, and an entire red flying fox colony chatter and sun themselves, the scent of their guano ripe in the summer air.

As we paddle leisurely back to shore, Darren asks if we've seen any dingoes yet. Dingoes in Tea Gardens? Surely not.

Back in our glamping digs, the air conditioner is struggling to cool the canvas baking in the sun. The machine is turned to full capacity yet it's cooler outside - and the bureau says it's 28 degrees. We ditch the ineffectual air source and open up the doors, a hot breeze pushing out the hotter air, and lie down for a siesta as the upright fan whirrs lazily around the tent.

After waking up in a slick of sweat late in the afternoon, there's nothing for it but to cool off in the nearby pool, which the kids have turned into their battleground. Mums and dads line the perimeter like referees, drinking "adult juice" from stubby holders and insulated keep cups, keeping one eye on their offspring, who push each other off the edge, calling "Marco!" "Polo!"

Getting there: Jimmys Beach is an easy three-hour drive north from Sydney, including toilet and meat pie breaks.

Staying there: Reflections Jimmys Beach Holiday & Caravan Park is nestled in the Great Lakes district on the Mid North Coast of NSW. Stay in a powered or unpowered camping site, a tiny house, a cabin or a glamping tent - the superior safari starts from $241 per night - and sleep among natural bushland with the goannas, kookaburras and possums (but hopefully not dingoes!).

Where to eat: Nearby Tea Gardens (a five-minute drive) has you sorted. Buy your groceries at the IGA or Coles, pies and bread at 2 Fat Bakers Bakery, restaurant dinner or takeaway fish and chips at Mumm's on the Myall, and breakfast and coffee at Tea Gardens Boatshed.

Explore more: reflectionsholidays.com.au; mummsonthemyall.com.au; lazypaddles.com.au

Pictures: Supplied; Sarah Falson

The writer was a guest of Reflections Holidays.