Feeling burnt out? This 48-hour retreat near Sydney is an express pass to rejuvenation

The smouldering sparks take, and the burning begins, hungrily swallowing the crisp autumn air and transforming it into flames. Our group of six has collectively coaxed tendrils of smoke to take hold of a damp burn pile at Wollemi Ridge Retreats, a holistic bush escape in Bilpin, about 90 kilometres north-west of Sydney.

Time lost its clutch on us when we crossed over the 270-hectare property’s threshold and our phone signals dropped out. Embers erupt into ephemeral constellations, while marshmallows are toasted for s’mores. It’s a full moon and the fog comes in waves. By all accounts, we shouldn’t be able to see the stars. But, then, by all accounts, wet wood shouldn’t keep us warm. We look at each other – delighted, awestruck, fingers sticky with molten chocolate and minds blissfully unshackled – and grin.

Our response to this combustion is a markedly different reaction to the Black Summer bushfires that raged here in 2019. When the sun comes up, I see black scars on the trees and green shoots at their roots.

This land has been transformed by Sally Dulson, a descendant of one of the region’s five original settler families, and her resourceful husband, Chris Barnes, whom she met while living in the UK. They moved to Australia in 2022 and, at the invitation of the land’s owner, launched the retreat early this year after months of renovations.

The outbuildings were already here and include an eclectic living space and cleverly ventilated, scent-free drop toilet. But the luxe canvas tents – with toasty micro-fireplaces and stacks of kindling – fairy lights, raw-edge benches, cowhide couches and the intimate, off-grid itineraries designed to help travellers reconnect to themselves and the land, are all part of the couple’s creation.

Our stay lasts from Friday afternoon until midday Sunday. On one night, we read affirmation cards after a meal of kangaroo-stuffed cabbage rolls and Bilpin cider soup, cooked with produce from adjacent farms and regional orchards. The next day, we turn thick slabs of chestnut timber into keepsake cutting boards, shaping, sanding and branding them with guidance from Chris. That’s after a tour of the neighbouring Harvest Farms, during which regenerative farmer Aaron Brocken discusses the region’s farming history then picks verdant celery stalks and fennel bulbs that we consume that evening.

Post-dinner, we strap red-light lamps to our foreheads and pull our socks over our pants in pursuit of glowworms, which are endemic to Australia and New Zealand. While strangers 24 hours ago, now we work as a team to descend slippery steps into a gully, stopping when the black canvas focuses to present thousands of tiny bioluminescent miracles.

On the morning of our departure, we’re granted an hour of solitude. A “cooee” will call time. I venture out to the rocky ridge, overlooking Bowens Gorge and Mount Irvine, Sally showed us earlier on a spirited bushwalk, choosing the path of most resistance, so I can run my fingers over the craters in charred trunks and stain my fingers with the reality of what happened here.

I watch clouds float above gum trees, ants crawl over my boots and listen to wattle whisper in the wind. Trust, the wind echoes. Trust nature, trust your instinct, trust the timing.

The cooee rings out. With my boots covered in mud and cheeks rosier than they’ve been in months, I rise and walk towards the sound – surer, steadier, supported.

The writer was a guest of Wollemi Ridge Retreats.

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