The Christmas in July in the Blue Mountains weekend kicked in at 5 AM in Jik’s guest room. She’s the only person who would agree to this kind of nonsense at that hour. We took the metro from Norwest to Martin Place, loaded up on cheese sticks from the Grumpy Baker, hopped on a mini bus, and before long, we were in the Blue Mountains.
First Day in the Blue Mountains: Fog, Fireplaces, and a Truly Unreasonable Amount of Honey
First stop was the Three Sisters lookout, except the sandstone sisters, Meehni, Wimlah, and Gunnedoo, had been completely erased by fog. We stared into a wall of white for a while, shrugged, and did the only sensible thing left: hit the gift shop.
That’s where we discovered our Blue Mountains alter egos, apparently, we’re people who buy honey now. Cashew honey for Jik. Cream honey for Fafa from me.
The Gundungurra people, the traditional custodians of this land, tell a different story about the three sisters than the one widely known. Gundungurra elders have said the Three Sisters are what’s left of an original seven stone pillars, tied to the Seven Sisters Dreaming, a story about the Pleiades star cluster that spans language groups across the country.
Anyway. Back to the fog and the honey.
Scenic World
By the time we got to Scenic World, the weather had redeemed itself. We rode the world’s steepest railway down and back up, took the cableway, and finally got a clear view of the Three Sisters. Somewhere between an unseasoned brekkie burger and a shared serve of chips, I started fantasising about opening a restaurant inside a theme park. Every trip, a new, weirder dream for me.
Also at Scenic World, I picked up chilli honey. For context: I eat honey sparingly; I have an entire jar of truffle honey sitting untouched at home (bought from the Strawberry Man up in Emerald Hill), and I have never once combined honey with anything else. And yet, on day one alone, I already had two. But in my defence, the first was a souvenir from the Blue Mountains for Fafa.
Eventually, we checked into Palais Royale in Katoomba. Michelle at reception introduced herself as a receptionist, barista, and bartender all in one. We picked the hotel bar on the left as we entered, which looked exactly like the one in the Widow’s Bay Inn.
Our room, 101, was a twin on the basement-like ground floor, right beside the restaurant and, crucially, the sauna.
Christmas in July in Blue Mountains
The real magic of the evening was up the hill. Mountain Heritage Hotel, my original accommodation pick in the Blue Mountains before Palais, won on location and price, was hosting its Yulefest, billed as the original Christmas in July celebration in Australia. And they committed: a proper Christmas tree, a roaring fireplace, and by 6 PM, live carols on the piano.
We sat by the fire, Midori Melon for me and red wine for Jik, eating olives with garlic confit so good I’d call them divine, plus a steady stream of complimentary veggie spring rolls and tempura coconut prawns courtesy of the chef. We took slightly drunk selfies by the tree. In July. In the mountains. Blue Mountains. It was perfect.
From there, we walked back to Katoomba town centre along a well-lit path. Dinner was Basil Nut, one of the Blue Mountains’ surprising number of Southeast Asian spots (we counted five Thai restaurants on a single street, plus Korean, Chinese, Malaysian, and Tibetan): Chicken Nasi Goreng and exotic kullaway seafood curry served inside a coconut.
The meal was absolutely delicious.
Then back to the hotel for a sauna, which Jik joined mostly because she was too scared to stay in the room alone. Something about the hotel reminded her too much of Widow’s Bay Inn, she said, hehehe.
We ended the night journaling together with our new stickers, and Jik, who had brought Christmas decorations from home and decked out our hotel room with them, made the whole thing feel like an actual holiday. I put on my Laneige sleeping mask, listened to YouTube, and thanked the universe for a 10/10 day.
Day Two in the Blue Mountains: Sisig at Sunrise and Accidental Hikes
Day two started with a sad hotel toast situation, rescued only slightly by our honey haul. We went looking for coffee and found Café Lurline instead, a hidden gem serving food from everywhere at once. I got overexcited and ordered sisig with Filipino garlic rice before 9 AM, plus their homemade chilli oil. The chai, though, was too milky, which confirmed something I’ve long suspected about myself: I am extremely particular about chai, and most places do not get it right.
Katoomba Falls Kiosk
We then journalled in the cold backyard of Katoomba Falls Kiosk, run by the most memorable brown uncle, watching the cable car pass overhead, and somehow accidentally went hiking. Prince Henry Lookout, Lady Darley Lookout, all the way to Echo Point, done entirely in fancy shoes and baggy jeans, because this time I came completely underprepared.
Lunch was at Sanwiye, where Jik had the bibimbap and immediately declared, right there at the table, that she’d be recreating it herself the following weekend. Meanwhile, I had what might be the best Korean soybean soup I’ve had outside Korea.
Devonshire Tea in Bygone Beautys, Leura, Blue Mountains
Then we took the train to Leura. After a wander through a bookstore, a cabinet of curiosities, and Cockatoo Market’s stall or two, we circled back to Bygone Beautys for Devonshire tea. For anyone wondering, a Devonshire tea is not the same as a full afternoon tea: afternoon tea usually comes with finger sandwiches, cakes, and pastries alongside the scones, while Devonshire tea is simply tea with scones, cream, and jam. I had two scones, plus another look through their teapot museum, reportedly one of the largest private collections in the world, with 5,000+ on display and more than double in stock.
With that and after a bit more shopping, we Ubered back to our hotel.
Cloudly Stargazing
The evening’s main event was stargazing. Gavin, the world’s nicest tour organiser, who also owns the No. 14 accommodation, picked us up and told us the Blue Mountains have three genuine must-dos: the Three Sisters, Wentworth Falls, and the Grand Canyon walk.
At the site, our Nepal-born guide, an astronomer and a genuinely great storyteller, walked us through Scorpius, the Teapot, and where the Milky Way should have been, before the clouds rolled in and ended the session early. He gave us vouchers valid for three years, which I’m interpreting as the universe telling me to come back (I still haven’t done the Megalong Valley winery tour, after all).
Three Mulled Wines in The Bowery
The gloomy, starless night ended with Gavin dropping us at The Bowery. The same place that had turned us away earlier in the day, but let us in just after 9 PM. The owner, funny, friendly, and stylish, served us pita with a trio of dips, olives, and mulled wine that was genuinely transcendent. Three glasses each. Somewhere in there, Jik and I had a proper one-on-one, and I told her I’m grateful we’d reconnected. And it’s true – this weekend genuinely felt like it healed a part of me.
Also, the third glass made me very drunk and very ready for bed, in that order.
But first, the Christmas gift exchange. Earlier, at Echo Point, I’d bought Jik a Blue Mountains mug by a local artist. She gave me a beautiful handmade bowl, bought from a stall that donates its proceeds to those in need. How thoughtful of her.
Last Day in the Blue Mountains: Falls, Last Loops, and a Sprint for the Train
I woke from the deepest sleep of my life (thank you, mulled wine), got ready, and then checked out.
Breakfast was at Bang Bowls, which we’d been circling all weekend: an iced ube coffee (free upgrade) and a brekkie taco, which I can now confirm just means egg on a taco. We also said hello to the ceramicist who’d made the Blue Mountains mugs we bought the day before, who, it turns out, also runs the café (we’d followed her Instagram the previous evening).
Wentworth Falls
We dropped our bags at the luggage storage, also run by the same Gavin, where I picked up a fridge magnet by a local Aboriginal artist, then headed to Wentworth Falls. And oh, the falls. Two hours of birdsong, rushing water, tiny brown mushrooms, and the reminder that I genuinely love hiking, questionable footwear and all.
Katoomba Village
Back in Katoomba, we did one last loop: a secondhand bookshop (where I bought a book about happiness), a shop full of delightfully creepy oddities, and a gallery where I found an evil eye ceramic necklace by another local artist. Then, because we couldn’t leave without investigating, we had lunch at the Yellow Deli (iykyk), where Jik refused to eat, and I had a green elixir drink.
We then realised we were nearly late for the train and sprinted uphill to the luggage storage, Jik leading the charge with her quick steps while somehow also carrying my heavy AF grey bag, and made the two-hour train back to Sydney by the skin of our teeth.
So that was our Christmas in the Blue Mountains weekend: fog and fireplaces, honey, I’ll probably never finish, carols in July, a gift exchange, and more mulled wine than either of us will admit to. The stargazing voucher is valid for three years.
Thank you, Blue Mountains, I’ll be back.
Katoomba Notes, For the Curious
- Stay: Palais Royale (charming, central, has a sauna) or Mountain Heritage Hotel (splurge for the views and the Yulefest if you’re visiting in July)
- Eat: Café Lurline for global brekkie, Sanwiye for Korean, Basil Nut for Southeast Asian, Bang Bowls by day and tacos by night
- Drink: Mulled wine at The Bowery, go after 8 PM, apparently
- Do: Scenic World’s steepest railway, the lookout walk from Katoomba Falls to Echo Point, Wentworth Falls, and stargazing (pray for clear skies)
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