Oddly, this stuffy studio is the starting place for a much-anticipated journey to one of the Canberra region's most inspiring landscapes, a trip that has been on my bucket list for decades.

Sitting on the desk in front of me is one of those old stereos that looks as thought it has been plucked from a 1970s' Dr Who prop cupboard. Cautiously, I prise open the tape deck and gently slip in a cassette. I pop on the headphones and after several seconds of static, the crackling voice of an ABC radio newsreader, signing off from the 1pm news, breaks the silence. It's followed by the sound for which I've been waiting: the theme music for Blue Hills, Australia's longest-running radio serial.

Although it is the first time I have heard the short orchestral piece, for a generation of Australians, the familiar tune signalled it was time to huddle around the wireless and listen intently to the latest instalment of Blue Hills, a saga of Australian country life. Written by Gwen Meredith and voiced by countless actors, including Ruth Cracknell, Gwen Plumb and the series matriarch, Queenie Ashton, Blue Hills ran for a remarkable 5795 episodes, spanning 27 years from 1949, and was at one time the world's longest-running radio serial.

I was still in nappies when the last episode aired on September 30, 1976, and although I had been wanting to listen to an episode of Blue Hills for many years, what finally prompted me to bunker down in the listening booth was the chance invitation to a dinner party at the very place where Meredith scripted many of her episodes.

In fact, a visit to Koorabri, a private and closely guarded slice of high country in the Brindabellas, has been on my wish list for years – not just because of my fascination with Blue Hills, but also because of a burning desire to see the rustic log cabin built by Koorabri's owners in the early 1950s for Meredith and her husband, Kingston. Regular readers may be aware I have somewhat of an unhealthy obsession with log cabins. I'm not sure if it comes from a childhood of watching Grizzly Adams and his bear, Benjamin, hole up in their log cabin in the Sierra Nevada mountains, or from hiking to many of the iconic huts that dot Kosciuszko National Park. However, for me, there's something inherently romantic about escaping to a remote log cabin, especially if it's tucked away in a valley surrounded by alluring mountain peaks.

As soon as the dinner invitation arrived, I immediately thought I needed at least a basic knowledge of Blue Hills. Thankfully, after listening to just three of the 15-minute episodes (#5741, #5750 and #5752), I've acquired a fairly good idea of the plot. In fact, I'm lucky there are any episodes to listen to at all. As only a handful of episodes were ever kept by the ABC, most of the 40 or so that are held in national sound collections were actually donated by Blue Hills aficionados, who recorded them on cassettes, usually for other family members who did not want to miss the latest instalment.

So, armed with my new-found knowledge about the eclectic Blue Hills line-up, including Granny Bishop and her daughter Meg Macarthur (apparently two of the more popular characters), next afternoon I head off into the ragged realms of the Brindabellas. It's another near-perfect day and the Yowiemobile leaves a trail of dust as I bump up and over the tortuous spine of the ranges that hold up Canberra's western horizon.

After the best part of an hour and a half, and just when I think I have reached the end of the twisting track, the turn-off to Koorabri leads me along another rutted road, this time into a hidden valley surrounded on three sides by heavily forested peaks. Over one last rise and there it is: my first glimpse of Meredith's cabin. Perched on top of a grassy knoll is the picture-perfect log cabin. Divine! The grainy black-and-white photos I'd previously ogled do not do it justice; to fully appreciate it, this cabin needs to be viewed in situ, nestled in this secret garden of Eden on the fringes of northern Kosciuszko National Park.

But, alas, I'm so close, yet so far. The cabin sits on the other side of the Goodradigbee River, a ribbon of silver that carves its way through the lush green valley, and there's no bridge or obvious ford. Apparently, there once was a suspension foot bridge, but that was washed away in the last big gully-raker. I'm left with two choices: try to drive across the river, or get out and walk.

I take what I think is the easy option and start driving across. Wrong choice. As I creep in four-wheel-drive mode towards the middle of the pebbled river bed, the torrent gets faster. And faster. Water starts pooling at my feet and, suddenly, the Yowiemobile starts to wobble. It feels as though at any stage it could topple over. Just in time, the furious gesturing by a couple on the far side of the river directs me to a shallower part of the crossing and somehow I make it to the other side, albeit a bit wet. Phew!

My saviours turn out to be my welcoming hosts, Peter and Fran Smith, who bought Koorabri from original owners, the Bluett family, in 1974. Although Meredith's fabled cabin is only a few hundred metres away, the other dinner guests are already starting to gather in the historic homestead's dining room. A closer inspection of the cabin will have to wait.

The dinner party is a hoot – between grazing on lashings of country fare and sampling a bottle of red (or three), around the flickering candlelight we chat about the trials and tribulations of living in this valley, where fire and flood are woven into its fabric. The Smiths recall a lucky escape for their son, Andrew, when a wall of water overturned and drowned his LandCruiser as he was trying to leave after torrential rain.

Then there's the tale of two friends who came to stay for a night and made the mistake of not driving their car back over the river when it started to rain. "The car was stuck here for three weeks," Peter recalls.

Talk inevitably turns to Meredith. Thankfully, there are a few fans of Blue Hills around the table, all of whom remark that the show's success lay in how life-like the series was. It was also easy to dip in and out of. "If you went overseas, you could also pick it up three months later," Fran says.

I can't wait any longer and conjure up enough courage to politely ask my hosts if I could possibly take a peek in Meredith's cabin. "In the morning," promises Peter, between two more gulps of red. What's another eight hours, if I've come this far?

It's a full moon and on the short stagger to my digs for the night, I'm tempted to wander over to Meredith's cabin to peer in the windows. Somehow I resist, but I try to nod off with one eye open, gazing longingly at the cabin, bathed in its magical midnight glow. When I eventually doze off, I dream of an overnight storm that leaves me stranded in this mountain paradise for a few days. Oh, if only.

Next morning, Peter comes to collect me. It's time; I bound across to the cabin with all the zeal of a dingo on heat. A burnt stump of a large pine tree stands tellingly near the front entrance – the hut was almost lost in the 2003 firestorm. It was only saved by a quick-thinking brigade. "It went up like a roman candle, like a sort of sacrificial anode," Peter, recalls and adds that "only a few cinders found their way through the roof and burnt holes in the sofa cushions".

He pushes on the ornately painted front door (although she was not closely involved in the structure's design, apparently Meredith had a say in the way it was decorated). Carefully, I tiptoe inside, talking to Peter in hushed tones. While it's not a church, for me it's certainly a place of reverence. There are inviting nooks aplenty and above the open fire (complete with a carefully crafted hearth of river stones) are all manner of pots and pans clearly well used and well loved. Biscuit tins dating back more than half a century sit atop the kitchen bench and the rustic walls are adorned with old maps of Koorabri and detailed sketches of the river drawn by Peter Luck, of This Day Tonight fame, who also used the charming cabin as a retreat. Not surprisingly, taking pride of place on the bookshelf are many with Meredith's own titles, from Beyond Blue Hills to The Lawsons (a country-themed radio serial that pre-dated Blue Hills).

The view is exceptional. Little wonder Meredith was so inspired here. Out of every window are enticing glimpses of the Goodradigbee as it slices through lush, undulating paddocks. In fact, the river is so close, I am sure if you looked hard enough, you could see the tell-tale flash of a rainbow trout leaping about in the water. Then there are the mountains that draw your eyes and spirits upwards – snow-covered in winter, but this morning emitting an evocative blue haze. This is a place to let your mind roam and dream, to dream and roam.

I salute the Smiths for their devoted and vigilant custodianship of this jewel in our literary landscape, a priceless treasure chest that will be forever linked to the daily lives of so many Australians who tuned into ABC radio at 1pm (and 6pm for the repeat) for many years.

In life, few experiences far exceed expectations; however, my pilgrimage to Koorabri is one of those. It leaves me craving to sit at the desk in Meredith's cabin, pen in hand and watch the seasons come and go, to saviour the fresh mountain air and to be inspired by the perfectly framed view out of every window.

Unfortunately, my prayers for overnight storms have gone unanswered, so instead of being happily stranded here, I have to face that river crossing again.

Koorabri: Access to this private property, about a 90-minutes drive to the west of Canberra, is strictly by invitation only.

Did you know? Gwen Meredith died at her home in Bowral, NSW, aged 98, in 2006.

Theme music: The Blue Hills theme was a snippet from Pastorale, composed by Ronald Hanmer. Until the Hanmer, who lived in England, moved to Australia in the 1970s, he was unaware his work had become so famous in this country.

Feeling nostalgic? The theme was added to the National Film and Sound Archive's "Sounds of Australia Registry" in 2008 and you can listen online here: aso.gov.au/titles/radio/theme-from-blue-hills/.

Cryptic clue: Feeling thirsty?

Degree of difficulty: Medium.

Last week: Congratulations to Ian Duckworth, of Griffith, who correctly identified last week's photo (inset) as Lake Jindabyne – a popular swimming spot in summer and home to Australia's highest surf lifesaving club, the Lake Jindabyne Yabbies (really).

How to enter: Email your guess, along with your name and address to timtheyowieman@bigpond.com. The first email sent after 10am today with the correct answer wins a double pass to Dendy cinemas.