Exploring the Beauty of Blue Mountains and Byron Bay in Australia

I found myself lost in Blue Mountains National Park, and I hadn’t even left my hotel. For the first hour in the Hydro Majestic Hotel, a sumptuous Art Deco warren about 90 minutes west of Sydney, my hometown, I wandered wide-eyed from one theatrical setting to the next, savoring the glass-domed lobby and quirky murals from the 1920s that depict both medieval knights and outback safaris. However, even amid the Gatsbyesque flourishes, it was the sweeping vistas of the Megalong Valley, considered the Grand Canyon of Australia, that were the most captivating. Looking out at the atavistic expanse — which was, as the name promised, bathed in azure eucalyptus haze — I expected a pterodactyl to sweep into view.

The property spans more than half a mile along a rugged cliff edge and serves as the perfect starting point from which to explore a region of New South Wales that plays a significant role in Australians’ perceptions of our vast, untamed continent. The first European settlers viewed the raw terrain as an intimidating barrier, taking 25 years to discover a route through its labyrinthine bushland after Sydney was colonized in 1788. However, during the Victorian era, “the Blueys” became Australia’s first vacation destination — a true escape into nature. Sydneysiders seeking fresh air and open spaces began flocking to its villages, including those with odd English-sounding names such as Blackheath and Medlow Bath, where the Hydro Majestic was built. Moreover, explorer Captain James Cook named the state New South Wales in 1770 due to its coast resembling the soggy shores of Wales. Guests utilized elegant hotels as launchpads for hiking adventures into pristine valleys filled with ancient forests framed by sandstone cliffs, teeming with kangaroos, wallabies, and iridescent cockatoos.

With such rich wildlife, it is no surprise that the Australian conservation movement was born here in the early 1930s when a group of bushwalkers raised funds to purchase their cherished Blue Gum Forest, located within the now-national park’s Grose Valley, in order to protect it from logging. “It demonstrates what individual action can achieve,” said environmental activist Chris Darwin, the great-great-grandson of Charles Darwin, when I met him in his home in the foothills. “They created the seed of the national park, and it continues to inspire.”

A few days after arriving, I embraced the spirit of the early bushwalkers and set out along the historic trails. First, I made a brisk descent to the iconic Three Sisters, a trio of sandstone fingers that rise from the bush, followed by a three-hour trek into the Grose Valley, a route that was restored in 2017, offering an instant immersion into the wild. Deeper in the Blue Mountains lie resorts that blend eco-consciousness with luxury — none more notable than the award-winning Emirates One&Only Wolgan Valley, which prioritizes environmental initiatives like planting 200,000 native trees alongside its luxurious amenities like private plunge pools and elaborate tasting menus.

The Ubiquity of environmental consciousness looms large in the Australian psyche, as global warming has rendered the continent a bellwether of climate change. During my journey, the focus on sustainability began in New York, where I resided since 1990. Being aware that long-haul flights contribute to the problem, Australia’s national airline, Qantas, has developed the aviation industry’s most extensive carbon offset program. Funds raised support various environmental initiatives, including replanting rainforests along the coast opposite the Great Barrier Reef to mitigate fertilizer runoff from farms. This year, Qantas also introduced frequent-flier miles to passengers who purchased offsets, and last May, it conducted the world’s first “waste-free flight” from Sydney to Adelaide, with every in-flight item being reusable, recyclable, or compostable. Even more ambitious, Qantas aims to reduce its waste output by 75 percent by the end of 2021.

To further my crash course in Australian conservation, I hopped on a short flight north of Sydney to Byron Bay, an alter ego to the Blue Mountains. This once-remote surfing town not only boasts one of the most picturesque beaches in New South Wales but also features a unique landscape on the edge of a caldera where tropical and subtropical rainforests meet. Byron first secured its place in Australian mythology as the country’s hippie capital, filled with individuals devoted to crystals, yoga, and alternative lifestyles. However, in the late 1970s, when logging threatened its idyllic hinterland, the town’s activists seized newspaper headlines, becoming a focal point for protestors from around Australia who sabotaged chainsaws and blocked steamrollers.

Byron has mellowed since then, now best known for being home to Hollywood star and native son Chris Hemsworth. However, as I drove into town, I found its hippie essence intact: the hand-carved wooden sign at the town entrance urges visitors to cheer up, slow down, chill out, and is followed by a flashing alert: be on the lookout for koalas — their habitat is disappearing. I checked in to a legendary boutique hotel called Raes on Wategos. It was the barefoot-beach answer to the Hydro Majestic, a gleaming white villa that, in 1994, transformed into a luxury inn with a vaguely Moroccan flair and is now freshly renovated. The seven-suite property could be the retreat of the gods — or at least of Keith Richards and Tom Cruise, both former guests. I opened my wraparound patio to be lulled by the crashing surf, then followed a coastal trail for 10 minutes to an open-air café, spotting humpbacks and dolphins along the way.

There I met local rangers Liz Dorgan and Matt Wiseman, who explained how conservation struggles of the 70s resulted in a network of national parks around Byron, an area known as the Northern Rivers. “It’s a biodiversity hotspot,” Dorgan explained enthusiastically. “The caldera rises 3,600 feet, offering spectacular escarpments, huge waterfalls, and, thanks to the rich volcanic soil, rainforests with rare trees like Antarctic beech.” They directed me to the most accessible taste of raw wilderness for a day hike: Minyon Falls, located in Nightcap National Park.

After a 90-minute drive past rural shops selling handmade red-velvet pants and local organic teas, I traversed an unpaved mountain road through a tunnel of ferns and vines. Minyon Falls plunges 330 feet over a cliff that was once part of an ancient volcano. Hiking to its base led me to a natural swimming pool with crystalline waters, ideal for a refreshing dip. The ascent was quite a workout, but just as the Victorian hikers in the Blue Mountains would retreat to the Hydro for high tea and scones, I returned to Byron to settle into one of the casual restaurants with patios overlooking the Pacific. At sunset, no music was needed; it was enough to listen to the waves and watch the humpbacks at play.