Christmas Eve 2013 was one for the record books, and I have to say that this kind of fortuitous turn of events rarely presents itself to me. A bearded park ranger bearing a truly uncanny resemblance to Santa Claus granted us the distinct honour of parking overnight on the bluff overlooking a perfect beach break. It was pretty much heaven and definitely a Christmas miracle. We frolicked on the beach at sunset without a soul in sight, ate mouth-watering rosemary garlic steak and christmas potatoes, and fell asleep with the crash of waves just outside our front door. There were a few eager-beavers checking the swell at our doorstep at some ungodly hour the next day, but with the unveiling of my unintentionally unbuttoned onesie at 7am, we were given a wide berth and a Christmas morning I could only dream of. Hark the heralds, indeed.