Simpson Cottage | Reflections from a Chief Escape Artist
Article by Winnie Stubbs Photography by Nick Allan
There’s a point on the winding, bush-shrouded road into Bundeena where the city skyline disappears from view, and all that’s visible through the gum trees is sparkling ocean. The age-old elemental combination of wood, sea and sky has a calming effect that’s hard to quantify : it seems to slow the heart rate, to quell the waves that crash through busy minds. It was this effect that Steve Larnach – who now owns Simpson Cottage with his wife and “Chief Escape Artist” Tara – was deeply in need of when his doctors diagnosed him with adrenal fatigue over two decades ago. And it was a particular view – one comprised of sandstone stepping stones leading you up a hill through dry bush, dropping down to the coast – that came to mind when he visited a hypnotherapist and was guided forward in time to a vision of a healthy future.
“He came home and told me: everything will be okay, I saw myself in a garden walking up some sandstone steps from the water.”Tara recalls.
“I dismissed it as a placebo effect at the time, but now that those steps play such a role in our lives, I’m willing to believe that what he saw was the steps that lead up from Simpson Bay to the cottage.”
The Larnachs hadn’t visited Simpson Cottage when the vision first appeared to Steve, but when they first visited the heritage listed cottage in 2009, they both knew that this was the place. “The first time we visited, we really didn’t want to leave. Every holiday cottage should leave you with that feeling – that this is the place you want to spend every spare moment. Usually, that feeling fades, but we couldn’t let Simpson Cottage go,”Tara reflects.
A year later, when the cottage was listed for sale, the couple “moved heaven and earth” to buy it, and are now committed to sharing the magic of this unique corner of coast- line with the world. “I think anybody choosing to mark a milestone with people they love here is the greatest thing.That’s what makes me really think: how good is this job?” Tara reflects.
A collection of my friends and I visited on the weekend I turned twenty-six, and I challenge anyone to find a more magical setting to spend a birthday. The forty eight hours passed in a sun-soaked haze – suspended in the timeless embrace of the histori- cal cottage and its undulating grounds.
Behind a white picket fence at the end of the quiet road that curves through the cliffs above Bonnie Vale Beach, Simpson Cottage sits on a 1500m2 plot of land that slopes down to the water. Eucalyptus trees tower above the sandstone cottage and native flowers form in colourful clusters in the hedgerows. “The garden thrives on neglect,” Tara explains, when I ask who is responsible for the stunningly colourful grounds.
It was mid-afternoon when we ar- rived, the point in the day when the sunlight catches most intensely on the water. From the patch of lawn where we sprawled ourselves – eating up the warmth – we watched a single kayak cut across the estuary, sending delicate rows of ripples across the surface of the water.
Exploring the house could take you two minutes or two hours, depending how much time you dedicate to in- specting the artwork and antiques that line the shelves. With every returned glance, you’ll discover something new: a vintage book or a delicate glass ornament that somehow blends seamlessly into the historic coastal aesthetic.
We spent the afternoon reading in the garden with loose leaf tea (there’s a blend of black tea and native myrtles specifically made for the cottage by Dales Run Wellness Co) and hand baked cookies that were waiting for us next to a welcome note in the kitchen.
As the sun began to set, we began cooking and spent the evening be- tween the kitchen and the verandah – making pastries and pasta as the sky turned from a vibrant pink to a deep purple navy.
We ate dinner in the outhouse to the west side of the cottage: a wood and glass panelled space that opens onto the lawn and the water beyond. A handmade linen tablecloth – Tara makes most of the linen in the cot- tage by hand – set the stage for heavy ceramic plates and shells cosplaying as candle holders. As with everything about Simpson Cottage – the beauty of the moment seemed to form almost by accident, a happy byproduct of the picture-book-perfect setting.
The first iteration of Simpson Cottage was built in 1864 by George Simpson and a selection of British convicts, and though the bones of the structure are the same as they were back then, much of its current aesthetic character can be attributed to Tara.
“I worked with a stylist on the reno- vation of the cottage, and she was my constraint. I told her I wanted to in- clude a bit of everything, and the com- promise we came to is what Simpson Cottage is now. Within six weeks, we’d repainted, re-done the floors, built and filled every room with things we love. Every item in the house is either beautiful, useful, or has a story,” Tara explains.
The timber shelves that line the sitting room were made by Tara by hand, and tastefully stacked with antique tools from her grandfather’s cabinetry work- shop and ornaments salvaged from her parents farm in Willowtree.
And while the most immediately evi- dent feature of Simpson Cottage is its ornate beauty, staying there introduces you to its energy – a sense of peace that might just be the result of over a hun- dred years of holiday memories.
When I ask Tara about the memory that most speaks to her, she explains that it’s something sensory.
“It’s the warmth from the sandstone on hot summer days - the smell of saltwa- ter on hot stone – that’s what seems to dominate my memories.”
It’s a memory I can identify with from my short stay at the cottage. After a three-hour lunch on the long wooden table under the eucalypts – before we shared desserts and evening turned to night – we walked down through the garden to the water. With salt-laced skin, we lay on the stone until the sun began to drop behind the hills, talking in the buttery light until it took its warmth elsewhere.
As we prepared to head back to the city the following day, I looked back at the cottage and its perfectly unkempt grounds. A pair of cockatoos settled on the wicker chair on the verandah, re- claiming it as their own. Like the Lar- nachs experienced on their first visit to the cottage, I felt the pang of desire to do the same.
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