I was shown down a maze of little roads and tracks through dense foliage and past a number of partly hidden small buildings to a guest cabin in the centre of a settlement in a lush green valley with a creek running down through it.

My cabin was a largish bed sitting room and kitchen, fully equipped with refrigerator, electric kettle, toaster and the like; all electricity from solar panels via inverter and battery pack.

Outside on the covered deck, a bathroom with the usually expected facilities: bath, shower, basin etc. and around the corner on a lower level the composting drop toilet with a list of do’s and don’ts attached to the back of the door.

Next-door was a modest Hindu temple that looked like a slightly larger house, in front of it a flat patch of green grass as an outdoor assembly area.

I was introduced to the guru who has the name, looks and mannerisms of an Indian but is German. He told me that my cabin had hosted many distinguished international visitors over the years.

But the settlement as a whole was not dominated by religion – this was a personal commitment by this guru and his wife, anybody could join in but nothing seemed compulsory.

Over the next days I did not see any dope addled dropkicks or fugitives; I’m not saying there were none there but those aspects were certainly not the tenor or tone of the settlement.

What I did see were lots of people of all ages, lots of modest dwellings of all types, some cobbled together from ingeniously arranged recycled materials.

Most were solar powered though a few were connected to mains electricity and they all had composting drop toilets.

Most people I met were working somewhere: social workers, teachers and the like, but there were plumbers, electricians, designers, artists, musicians, engineers, in short the full range of occupations pursued in various locations in the district.

The place was full of gardens growing all kinds of vegetables in a community that aims to be as self-sufficient as possible and pursues this through swapping produce and services.

There were fowls everywhere, brush turkeys darted in and out of the undergrowth, guineafowl waddled about and at night dozens of wallabies arrived to feast on the grass and anything that wasn’t netted to bar them.

The place was very quiet except at dawn when the birds came to; what a variety, what a din: magpies, kookaburras, parrots of a dozen sorts and colours, currawongs and a zillion others that I can’t identify, only the tawny frogmouths slept on after a night’s hunting.

And that’s the secret of the place: it’s full of life. Children enjoying school holidays doing all the things that children do: climbing trees, making cubby houses, riding bikes, playing games: a kid’s paradise.

This is a good and rich way to live for those that take to it; it is productive and worthwhile on many levels and a sweet way to look after the planet.

When someone mentions “commune”, don’t fall for the stereotype. I’m not ready yet but who knows?