Oyster Bay: A Hike, A Tantrum, and a Love Affair

So next stop...Oyster Bay. A bit of back story required here....Originally, the road trip was planned with my other son, Salt—he’s the easy-going one. You know, the kind of kid who’s as content with a tent as he is with a three-star hotel. Simple, Zen-like, and, for lack of a better term, grounded, and, in March last year LOVED hikes. ......just like his mom!!

We had planned this whole hiking trip back then— a super simple, no-frills trip. You know, the kind where you hike, sleep, repeat. Very basic.

But alas, Salt couldn’t make it. Then came the switch-up. Salt got swapped out for Pepper. And no, not literally swapped—he's still my son—but this Pepper is a different kettle of fish....Just think earthy and zenny... now flip that completely on its head, throw in a dash of intensity and a sprinkle of drama... voilà, you’ve got Pepper!

He replaced Salt, all smiles and "go with the flow" energy, claiming, "I really don’t mind mom, I don't even need to know where you've booked." Anyway, as the holiday grew closer, he somehow morphed into a demanding, slightly entitled child. “Just one thing, Mom… I need air con or at least a fan,” he declared. Oh, and he was fine with hiking—“some” hiking—but only if there was time for “other stuff.”

So, now that I’ve set the stage… let’s get to the real reason for this blog post: my redemption. Turns out, Pepper’s mom—that’s me—isn’t the zen, go-with-the-flow hippie goddess I’ve always imagined myself to be. Nope. Turns out I’m just as spoiled, tone-deaf, and embarrassingly entitled as he is.

Shocking, I know. Go ahead, take a moment to let that sink in. I'll wait.

It’s like discovering that the villain in the story is me. My carefree, trailblazing self-image? Shattered. But hey, admitting it is the first step, right?

It seems my greatest genetic legacy wasn’t my charm or wit, but my impressive knack for expecting the world to cater to me. You're welcome, Pepper.

I had no idea just how deep this family trait ran until we pulled in to Oyster Bay for a two-night stay over New Year’s—and proceeded to act like a couple of insufferable, spoiled brats.

I mean.....first, we had to endure the agonizing experience of the sand road (20 km in case you think I am being dramatic)—a route that felt like it took days to navigate.  

By the time we reached town, we discovered it was less “quaint seaside escape” and more “ghost town of crushing disappointment.” No petrol. No food. No hope.

And then, of course, the one (ONE) restaurant in the “town” was fully booked—because why wouldn’t it be? And, naturally, it had to close early because there had been no electricity all day.

As if that wasn’t already a perfect storm of discomfort and mild frustration, I’m standing there realizing: I am absolutely NOT at my most Zen. But do we accept it gracefully? No. We both threw our little internal temper tantrums, silently cursing fate for not bringing us the convenience we were obviously entitled to.

Let’s talk about the “absolute rule” of needing two single beds when I travel with my children. Mommy needs her sleep—quiet, uninterrupted sleep, free from any disturbances.

Did we get two single beds? That would be a no. Instead, I was left with no other option than to seriously contemplate strangling Pepper in his sleep. Why? Because this person has the sleeping habits of a wild animal—kicking, mumbling, and occasionally arguing with invisible beings in the dead of night. Naturally, I wasn’t getting a single, peaceful wink of sleep. Fantastic.

And, as if that wasn't bad enough, there was no fan. No air con. NONE. I’m just supposed to suffer in this hellhole of humidity? You bet I was livid. I’m used to the basics, you know—air, a breeze, a little space to breathe. But no. Instead, I was trapped in this claustrophobic room where Pepper’s kicks were the least of my worries.

Oh, and the dogs. Let’s talk about them. The owners had three dogs. I was pretty sure they were going to be barking all night, just to make sure I’d lose it completely. And how was I going to strangle the cute dogs?? I mean, Pepper, sure... he could probably handle a little smothering. But cute dogs? Nope. Not gonna happen.

Do you know what happens when Mommy doesn’t sleep? Absolute chaos. And I’m not talking about the cute, slightly disorganized chaos of toddlerhood. No, this is the kind of chaos where life as we know it has officially ended!!

So day 2 we woke up....not the most awful sleep I gotta say, and one of the nicest breakfasts. Fresh, flavourful, and made with care, they were the kind of breakfasts you daydream about long after the trip is over..... but still, we sulked. Why? No ice cubes. None. In an entire town. I mean, who even lives like that? What is this, the 1800"s? Seriously, not even a single frozen cube to chill my soul after the previous night’s disasters?

And, as if that wasn’t enough, the lights were still off. Yes, off. Entirely. But wait, there's more! We had to drive to St. Francis Bay just to get food, like, actual food. Who knew food could become a rare treasure in the middle of nowhere? And let me tell you, by the time we returned, I was in dire need of a chill pill (and some ice... did I mention that?).

But by the second evening, New Year’s Eve, I suddenly realized I had fallen head over heels for this little slice of heaven.

On the first night, Nick—our poor, unsuspecting host at the Oyster Bay Beach Lodge—graciously whipped up a last-minute, homemade dinner for us two miserable and hangry guests.

There was an inverter, so we didn’t even realize the power had been out for two entire days.

And the sleep… oh, the sleep. Doors flung wide open, a cool sea breeze drifting in, and the waves singing a lullaby so perfect it could’ve knocked out even the most stubborn insomniac.

Not a single bark from any of the three lodge dogs, and did I mention? Not one mosquito bite! It was practically heaven on earth.

Turns out, Oyster Bay wasn’t just tolerable—it was quietly, unexpectedly magical.

Basil, the chief canine and undisputed ruler of Oyster Bay, was a gorgeous hound who casually strolled into our room for an afternoon nap.

If I’d known sooner, he could’ve been our walking buddy too—missed opportunities, sigh.

New Year’s Eve brought yet another exceptional meal, and oh, those breakfasts—absolute perfection.

Oh, and remember how I’ve always dreamed of witnessing a sunset on a mountain—preferably mid-trail, with angelic choirs and dramatic lighting? Well, guess who delivered? Oyster Bay. Okay, fine, it wasn’t on a mountain. Or a trail. But seriously, bugger off with your technicalities—it was a downright religious experience.

Oyster Bay isn’t about grueling hikes; it’s leisurely walks with breathtaking views and an overwhelming sense of calm. Honestly, it’s as good as any hike I’ve ever done, just in a different, more laid-back way. Would I go back? In a heartbeat.

By the end of the trip, I had fallen in love with the place. Like, head-over-heels. The very place I was ready to write off as a disaster turned out to be the most magical little retreat.

So here’s my verdict: If you ever find yourself in Oyster Bay, take a moment to remember all the things that go wrong. They’ll become the things that make it unforgettable.