There’s a stretch of coastline in Western Australia where the Indian Ocean crashes against rugged limestone cliffs, where the sand is so white it glows under the moon, and where the night sky stretches endlessly, unpolluted by city lights. This is Preston Beach—a hidden gem tucked between Mandurah and Bunbury, where adventure whispers in the salt-kissed breeze.
Packing the ute with tents, firewood, and a well-loved fishing rod, my partner and I left Perth at dawn, chasing the sunrise south. The drive alone felt like a prelude to magic: rolling farmlands giving way to dense tuart forests, kangaroos grazing at the roadside, and the occasional eagle circling overhead. By mid-morning, we arrived at Preston Beach Campground, a no-frills paradise where the only reservations needed are a sense of wonder and a willingness to unplug.
The campground sits just meters from the beach, sheltered by wind-sculpted dunes and peppered with hardy coastal shrubs. We pitched our tent under the shade of a melaleuca tree, its papery bark rustling in the wind. The soundtrack? Waves thundering in the distance, seagulls arguing over scraps, and the laughter of kids flying kites on the shore.
Pro tip: Snag a spot early—this small, 20-site campground fills fast in peak season. No powered sites? No problem. Here, the stars are your electricity.
Preston Beach is raw, untamed Australia. After setting up camp, we laced up our hiking boots and trekked the Preston Beach to Myalup Trail, a 14km coastal walk that rewards patience with panoramic views. The cliffs here are ancient, their limestone layers telling stories of millennia. We spotted ospreys diving for fish and discovered tide pools teeming with crimson anemones and darting silver fish.
But the real magic came at sunset. We scrambled down a narrow path to The Lagoon, a serene saltwater pool carved by the ocean. As the sky turned burnt orange, we waded into the cool water, the day’s heat dissolving into the horizon.
No camping trip is complete without a campfire. We gathered driftwood and lit a blaze just as the first stars emerged. Dinner? Fresh herring caught off the beach earlier that day, grilled in foil with lemon and garlic. As we ate, an older camper from a neighboring site wandered over, clutching a bag of marshmallows and stories of fishing trips dating back to the ’80s. “This place hasn’t changed,” he said, poking the fire with a stick. “That’s the beauty of it.”
Midnight found us sprawled on the sand, wrapped in blankets. Without light pollution, the Milky Way arched overhead like a diamond river. Every few minutes, a shooting star streaked across the sky—nature’s fireworks. The ocean roared, but somehow, the world felt still. It’s moments like these that John Muir must’ve meant when he said, “In every walk with nature, one receives far more than he seeks.”
We woke to the screech of cockatoos and the smell of campfire coffee. One last walk on the beach revealed treasures: a sand dollar, a speckled seabird egg, and footprints of a nocturnal kangaroo. As we packed up, I pocketed a smooth piece of sea glass—a tiny keepsake from a place that feels both timeless and fleeting.
This isn’t a glamorous glamping destination. There are no espresso machines or heated pools. What you’ll find instead is the raw thrill of wild Australia: fishing rods bent double by salmon runs, dunes that glow gold at dawn, and the kind of quiet that lets you hear your own thoughts. It’s a reminder that adventure isn’t about luxury—it’s about feeling small beneath a vast sky, yet deeply connected to the earth.
Final Note:
If you go, leave nothing but footprints. Preston Beach’s magic lies in its wildness—let’s keep it that way for the next dreamers who wander here.
📍 Preston Beach Campground
Distance from Perth: ~1.5 hours south
Best time to visit: Spring (wildflowers!) or autumn (avoid summer’s relentless flies).
Don’t forget: A fishing license, sturdy sand pegs, and a sense of humor when the wind inevitably steals your hat.
Happy wandering, adventurers!