Credit: Kate Holdsworth

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The dingo returned my stare, half defiant, half puzzled - with neither of us sure what to make of the other.

Both out on our early morning wanders, we each thought we held court over the area and hadn't really expected to be disturbed.

I wasn't scared of him - in fact I was buzzing. Not only was this dingo the first I'd ever seen, but I had no idea there were any in the area. It was such a delight to find one so close to my cabin.

The meeting was brief though; the dingo quickly turned on his heel, leaving me to continue my walk through the resort. The next hour certainly didn't disappoint.

My first impression of the Myall Shores Resort was the feeling that I wasn't there to observe the local nature, but rather to feel a part of it.

Meandering by the lakeside watching the movie-set mist rising from the water, I was entertained by the honky-tonk swans preening themselves in the crisp first light and calmed by the deep drone of the ocean in the distance.

The birds serenaded me with a jumbled assortment of melodies as a lone duck followed along behind me, squawking in seeming disbelief that I didn't slow down to wait for it.

Located on the mid-north coast of NSW, the resort is cradled in Myall Lakes National Park, which boasts four fantastic lakes to explore: Bombah Broadwater, Two Mile Lake, Boolambayte Lake and Myall Lake.

The region is home to an abundance of plant and animal life and contains 10,000 hectares of wetlands - the largest fresh and saltwater mixed lake system on the state's coast.

Independently eco-certified, the 56 cabins within the resort are designed to make the most of natural light as well as minimise heating and cooling requirements. Each cabin, assembled off-site to lessen the impact on the local environment, is slightly different to the next, as most materials were sourced from the leftovers of other building sites.

Hidden treasure

Driving up, it's easy to miss the whole resort because the buildings blend in so beautifully with the natural colours of the landscape.

And it's not just during the day that the resort is cleverly camouflaged. Having grown up spending my summers at various beachside resorts, it was quite a novelty to stay in a resort that isn't lit up like an overdone Christmas tree.

At night the only light comes from the occasional path-side downlights, which are so far apart that they're more like tiny navigation beacons than lighting. The closest thing to a streetlight you'll see here is the glowing moon.

It's so au naturale that one would be advised to take a torch for any night-time walks. I'm told the resort, which sits right on the foreshore, cannot be seen at night from the lake.

My only disappointment was that perhaps some of smaller details are overlooked in the greater aim of building a large eco-resort.

In my two-bedroom, two-bathroom cabin there were at least 26 halogen lights, which I was told were of the regular variety, and the five lamps throughout the rooms were all fitted with 60-watt incandescent bulbs, not the low energy bulbs one would expect.

These oversights aside, other features of the resort are supremely green: from the locally sourced native plants in the gardens to the solar-heated pool and wastewater management system that includes a 1.5-kilometre-long evaporation trench, invisible in the charming local landscape.

Touring on two wheels

One of the best ways to get out and see the surrounding area is to hire a bike from the main office, pack a lunch and cruise off in whichever direction happens to take your fancy.

A great ride is the one to Tamboi, a quaint historic fishing community that lies in the lap of the Myall River. The long, flat, sweet-smelling roads are heavenly for the lazy cyclist (or, as I prefer to be known, 'civilised cyclist'). A pot-pourri of eucalyptus and salt water energised my senses while I glided along, recapturing that relaxed summery feeling of idle school holidays.

There's no need for Tour de France style cycling to see all the local sites as the scenery changes very quickly and within an easy hour's ride you'll find eucalypt forests, massive sand dunes, croaking swamps, luscious rainforest and looming thickets of big, bad banksia men.

A feature of the lakes, and a regular sight within the resort, are the giant paperbarks, some of which are over 300 years old.

Before reaching the turn-off to Tamboi, the road snuggled up against the white sandy beach of Mungo Brush - a great place for a quick rest.

The view of the coastline from there was stunning, though the road signs amidst the dunes were a surprise; many of the beaches in the region open to off-road driving. If dunes are your thing then it's also well worth visiting the giant dunes of nearby Sandy Point where a five-minute walk will have you feeling like you're in the middle of the Sahara Desert.

Into the canopy

On leaving the beach and main road for the unsealed fire-trails, you can slip into rainforest, where ferns lay in dappled sunlight and giant green cabbage trees reigned supreme. It was like instantly travelling from Fraser Island to Jurassic Park.

The strangest part of my ride was when I realised that the forest had started to hum - very loudly. I stopped to see if I'd over-exerted myself on the ride but the sound wasn't in my head. I wasn't close to the water and it didn't sound like a vehicle of any description. I waited, listening stubbornly, until it dawned on me that it was the humming of thousands upon thousands of mosquitoes.

Racing out of there at close to the land-speed record, I paused a kilometre down the road to extract a large number of unfortunate mozzie casualties from my clothes.

A little further along the sandy track I reached the edges of Tamboi, visible on the other side of the water. Reminiscent of a classic oil painting, the colours all melded together, making it hard to see exactly where the water begins and the foliage ends.

I felt like I'd left not only the city behind, but also this century. A small jetty provided a good picnic spot, and the stillness, scent of eucalypts and softly singing birds convinced me to have a half-hour kip, before turning homewards.

Arriving back at the resort that evening, and feeling rather proud of my day's exercise (though embarrassingly saddle-sore), I dove straight into the spa, a feature of some of the more luxurious lakeside cabins.

I felt rather guilty admiring the large, inviting spa bath, as I live in a city where every half millimetre of rain is reported with great fanfare. But, reassured that all water used here is sourced from bores and on-site rainwater tanks, I treated my aching legs to a long, luscious soak to cap off my superb day.