Margaret River

The Cape to Cape Track is the kind of hike that simultaneously thrills and humbles-a rugged, windswept strip of paradise wedged between Cape Naturaliste and Cape Leeuwin, where the Indian Ocean relentlessly flings itself at towering limestone cliffs like a moody ex-lover. This 135-kilometer Australian trail blends seaside drama worthy of an epic novel, bizarre botanical wonders from the prehistoric-looking grass trees to elusive orchids, and plenty of historical intrigue, including storied shipwrecks and old lighthouses that have seen their fair share of nautical mishaps and melodrama. Early morning starts will grant postcard-perfect solitude and vibrant sunrise views, while late afternoons are ideal for spotting dolphins, whales, or just folks bedraggled enough to sit and stare contemplatively at the water. Plan a few months ahead, unless sleeping on sand and eating granola bars for breakfast, lunch, and dinner is your jam; budget generously for provisions, waterproof shoes, and sturdy sunscreen (the Australian sun takes no prisoners and laughs at SPF 30). Bring a solid map, humor to match the occasional blister, and a generous supply of patience for the errant kangaroo or curious bandicoot who'll definitely slow your stride. In the end, even if the panoramas don't impress you, the stories-about finding enlightenment, losing toenails, or inadvertently sharing dinner with a possum-make the whole sweaty saga unquestionably worth it.

Descending into Lake Cave in Margaret River feels less like casual sightseeing and more like stepping onto the set of an indie adventure flick-complete with a breathtaking subterranean lake so mirror-perfect you might briefly suspect they've installed sneaky CGI effects. Tucked away beneath the lush wilderness of Forest Grove, this limestone labyrinth was quietly carved out by water droplets diligently working overtime for thousands of years, long before the first surfer or wine snob set foot in Margaret River. Aim for the earliest or last tour of the day, when the crowds thin and the cave's silent, meditative eeriness is at its peak. Book a few days out, especially during holiday rushes, and budget around $25 AUD per adult entry-small change for an experience that combines Jules Verne escapism with geological wizardry. Wear comfy shoes, pack a sweater (the cave maintains the chilly demeanor of an aloof maitre d'), and leave your fear of dark, confined spaces conveniently at home. Even if subterranean exploration isn't normally your cup of artisanal single-origin coffee, Lake Cave is a must-do-not least because you'll gain an unbeatable anecdote that guarantees bragging rights at your next dinner party.

Forget your run-of-the-mill, margarita-fueled sunsets-Meelup Beach's moonrise is the kind of celestial spectacle that inspires both awe and mild existential crises. Tucked away near the sleepy seaside town of Dunsborough, this shimmering stretch of West Australian sand becomes otherworldly as dusk gives up the ghost and the moon drags itself into view, glowing amber and enormous, as if auditioning for some cosmic remake of Apocalypse Now. Historically, Australia's Indigenous Wardandi people cherished this region for its sacred tranquility, and standing barefoot on the cool sand, you'll sense the same quiet reverence while secretly wishing you packed more wine (tip: do it). Show up about half an hour before moonrise-consult an actual lunar calendar to avoid amateur embarrassment-and stake out prime real estate near the southern end, away from the cluster of smartphone-wielding Insta-tourists. Planning ahead isn't just recommended, it's mandatory; know the moon's schedule like a hipster knows artisanal coffee, and budget for a modest picnic (Australian wine and cheese pairings enhance moonlit existential pondering). Even if your photos come out blurry, your toes freeze, or you realize the celestial phenomenon lasts only minutes, the moonrise at Meelup Beach delivers an irreplaceable bragging right, one you'll casually drop into conversations for years-as proof that you've seen something fleetingly beautiful, slightly mystical, and undeniably weird.

Sure, snorkeling in crystal-clear waters has its charms, but let's be honest-there's something delightfully absurd about descending eight meters underwater into an art deco-styled chamber suspended beneath one of the planet's longest wooden piers. Welcome to Busselton Jetty's Underwater Observatory, a place where marine voyeurism meets Victorian-era engineering whimsy. Located in the otherwise sleepy coastal town of Busselton (population modest, ice-cream shop density impressive), this nautical oddity lets you peer through massive viewing windows into the bustling underwater neighborhood of coral-encrusted pylons and darting fish. Head there mid-morning, when sunlight turns the marine scene into something straight out of a Jacques Cousteau fever dream. Plan at least a week ahead in peak summer months, and set aside around A$37-it might seem steep for essentially fish-watching, but think of it as admission to an aquatic speakeasy without the hangover. Don't forget your camera and patience; you'll be jockeying for viewing space with sunburned retirees and overstimulated children. Ultimately, though, descending into a watery museum beneath an absurdly long jetty is worth all the whimsical inconvenience, if only for the right to drop casually at dinner parties: "Oh, you haven't observed marine biodiversity through historical timber pylons? How quaint!"

An overnight stay on Rottnest Island is like voluntarily marooning yourself on Australia's quirkiest slice of paradise-where the sand is powdery, the ocean obnoxiously turquoise, and the resident marsupials (the ever-smiling quokkas) have unapologetically commandeered all selfie privileges. This little island, affectionately nicknamed "Rotto," started out as a grim penal colony before turning itself into Perth's beloved offshore playground, proof that Australians can squeeze cheerfulness out of just about anything. Book at least three months ahead, especially if you insist on a beachfront cottage, unless your idea of a good night's sleep involves sand fleas and the questionable comfort of sleeping under the stars. Arrive mid-afternoon after day-trippers retreat, armed with snacks, sunscreen, cash (expect to drop around AUD $200-300 for lodging and ferry), and a torch to avoid unexpected late-night encounters with bicycle-riding backpackers or curious quokkas lurking in shadows. Come sunrise, when groggy, selfie-stick-wielding crowds descend once more upon Rotto, you'll already have claimed the island as your own-at least briefly. Sure, it's touristy and a bit absurd to seek out rodent selfies on purpose-but spending a night dancing on the fringes of civilization, accompanied by tiny, grinning marsupials? Worth every penny-if only to claim bragging rights at your next dinner party.