Beach or mountains? Which do you prefer? Why?
On the surface, my answer should be simple. I’m Australian, and for over 30 years I’ve lived in beachside suburbs. The ocean has been the backdrop to my days—warm, lively, full of movement. There’s a sense of community at the beach that’s hard to replicate anywhere else. People talk about hearing music in the waves, and at times I’ve believed them. And in recent years, watching whales migrate along the coast has only added to the sense of wonder.
The beach is the place I turn to when I need energy, connection, or a reminder that life is vibrant and communal.
But there are other seasons—quieter ones—when I find myself drawn to the mountains and bushland. The solitude, the stillness, the long walks that take hours and empty the mind. Sitting on a sunlit rock, looking out across valleys, listening to nothing but wind and birds singing—those are moments that reset me. Encountering a lyrebird, an echidna, or a wombat on the track feels like a small gift, a reminder that the world is wider and more majestic than I remember.
The mountains are where I go when I need space, reflection, and the kind of peace that only silence can offer.
So which do I prefer? It changes.
Some seasons call for the bright, communal warmth of the beach. Others ask for the quiet, inward pull of the mountains.
And living on Sydney’s northern beaches—bordered by ocean, encircled by national parks—I’ve been lucky enough to move between both as the seasons change.
The Afterword 
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