I was lucky enough to have a shack by the water on the East Coast of Tasmania growing up. It was a real ‘shack’, built by my Great Pa. It had shells and crab skeletons hanging from the walls, and the musty scent of decades of ocean salt seeped into every surface. A giant crayfish shell hung proudly above the television. Instructions in my Pa’s handwriting were taped to walls, taps, and cupboards.
Every sound, smell, and texture is embedded in my DNA: the backdoor hinge that slammed and rattled the whole house every time someone walked out, the smell of flathead frying in the pan at Easter, the way moonlight bounced off the water and into the hallway as I made my way to the toilet at night, the wet, salty rope burn from lowering the dinghy off the jetty, the uncomfortable beds, scratchy blankets, bath towels as stiff as boards and coarse as sandpaper.
I had 26 blissful years of shack life before it was sold after my Gran died. Now, almost 15 years later, I still visit it in my dreams – usually I’m sneaking in, making myself at home, and hoping the new owners don’t catch me. It will always be the shack of my dreams, the most magical place on earth.
But a very, very close second is Ingrid and Cliff Daniell’s Whale Song Shack in Falmouth. A place that feels as though my childhood shack and Vogue Living had a baby.
When you arrive at Whale Song, the waves greet you from just metres away. The shack is perched on the edge of the ocean, with uninterrupted views to the horizon. As you walk to the front door, you find yourself standing on arguably Tasmania’s most famous deck – that Insta-famous spot you’ve probably seen in travel magazines and across your social feeds.
This is my third visit to Whale Song (yes, I know – I’m incredibly fortunate). The first was a girls’ trip with two of my best friends in 2019, in the early days of the shack being listed on Airbnb. The second was with a friend and colleague in 2021, and most recently, I returned with my partner Brad and our almost two-year-old daughter, Elsie.
In hindsight, did I underestimate how manic it would be travelling to a beautifully styled shack full of delicate knick-knacks with a toddler and her lightning-fast, curious little fingers? Yes. Was she a bit of a nightmare? Yes.
Did we still soak up every moment and have the most beautiful stay? Absolutely. (Well – almost every moment. Maybe not the ones spent chasing after Elsie with a glass buoy in her hand, or when we had to rearrange the house to lock the drinks trolley full of vintage glassware in another room, or the 300th time we asked her not to open the fireplace door.)
Travelling with a toddler is relentless. Period. But the thing about a place as magical as Whale Song, is that you only need moments to feel entirely at peace.
A moment sipping Tassie pinot on the deck as the sun set over the ocean
A moment together, eating oysters by the crackling fire while Elsie slept
A moment in the outdoor soaking tub with coffee on Sunday morning
A moment at the breakfast bar, enjoying the eggs and bacon Brad cooked for us
A moment watching our happy, curious daughter collect shells
A moment listening to records by the fire with a Waubs Harbour whisky in hand
A moment reading Rick Rubin’s The Creative Act by the window
A moment outside in the fresh morning air, photographing the sunrise
Having visited Whale Song a few times over the years, I’ve loved seeing the house evolve and change, with lovingly collected artworks and trinkets added to walls and shelves. The spare room has become somewhat of an art studio, inviting guests to add their masterpieces.
But it’s not just the pictures on the walls that make Whale Song a work of art. Everything you see, hear, and touch in this thoughtfully styled shack adds to the canvas – the cross-stitch on the cushions, the shadows dancing on the walls, birds singing outside, the orchestra of waves on rocks, the curve of the lounge chair looking out to the sea. Even the ceramic mugs feel like they belong in a gallery.
And then, there’s the view’s ever-changing colour palette: endless ocean and sky shifting from moody greys to bright blue, marshmallow pink to purple and vivid orange.
From the creative to the practical, another thing I love about staying at Whale Song is how thoughtfully stocked it is. I usually overpack for Airbnb stays just in case it’s missing this or that, but Ingrid and Cliff have thought of everything, right down to marshmallows for toasting on the outdoor firepit and a welcome drink for the deck.
You’ll find Aspar shampoo, conditioner, body wash and moisturiser, bath salts, beach towels, yoga mats, tampons and pads, cotton pads, a hair dryer, olive oil, tea, coffee, muesli, cookies, your choice of milk, an abundance of firewood, cosy blankets, and a generous collection of books and records to enjoy.
Staying at Whale Song doesn’t feel like your typical short-stay accommodation; it feels like borrowing a friend’s beach house for the weekend – or, in my case, stepping out of a dream and back into the comforting nostalgia of a classic Tassie shack, this time with my little family by my side.
Whale Song Shack can be booked direct or on Airbnb from $650 per night.
The writer of this article was hosted by Whale Song Shack for a complimentary stay. All opinions expressed are based on the author’s personal experience.
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