New South Wales – Byron Bay November 2019

Our first week in Queensland ended and it was time to head south. We left Noosa and shortly hit the motorway, powering our way past Brisbane, through the back of the Gold Coast and on towards the NSW border. A little over 300km and four hours later we arrived at our next destination, the iconic coastal hippy/surfie/arty town of Byron Bay.

For some years Sue had harboured a fanciful idea of joining the hordes of grey nomads in the future, clogging the highways and byways of this great land in their 4x4s towing caravans and camper trailers of all descriptions and stopping to claim our age pension benefits in Byron Bay. But we’ve seen it now, and that’s enough. If we do sign up for the mass national retiree parade we will find other places to set up camp.

Byron Bay is famed for its scenic beauty, a huge sweeping bay of pristine white sand with a rocky clifftop promontory jutting into the wild Pacific Ocean, Australia’s eastern most point of the mainland. It has become a Mecca for surfers and those seeking a green alternative lifestyle on the beach or in the forested hinterland between the sea and the main highway. And it is a beautiful place.

We had become accustomed to luxury in our choice of accommodation options, both in Queensland and in South Australia recently, so it was something of a shock when we stepped inside our Stayz.com basement bedsit apartment on Cemetery Road on Byron’s outskirts. Old, shabby, tired and just slightly grubby would describe the interior and although it was spacious, we felt like we needed a shower after sitting on the saggy velour couch in the dark, dank room. Also, Byron Bay itself was a little confronting on first appraisal. To be fair, we had arrived during schoolies week (an unfortunate oversight) and the crowded streets were humming with overexcited and overstimulated teenagers, along with the usual plethora of hippies, has-beens and wanna-bees. The overblown retail industry reflects the town’s Uber cool vibe and there seems to be far too many rainbow shops selling spirituality by the kilo (there’s even a Crystal Castle in the hinterland nearby, for goodness sake) and cafes hawking macro-biotic açai poke bowls and organic mushroom and tofu beignets.

But enough griping. What we did find, once we left the shopping precinct and the crowded main beach, was a wild beauty. The wind, strong currents and dumping waves in Byron didn’t suit the kind of relaxing beach-time experience we enjoy. Instead we walked for miles along the massively wide beaches and along the trail through the national park on the headland and out to Cape Byron, the eastern most point on the Australian mainland. The headland protrudes like a raised finger into the bay and the strong winds on either side create perfect ocean kite-surfing and clifftop paragliding conditions. The bushfires across Northern NSW had left a smoky haze over the land, restricting the otherwise expansive and impressive views.

From Byron we drove up into the hinterland, through parched tinder dry cattle farms (the drought is clearly evident) and twisting roads that wind their way through forests. We visited the historic country towns of Bangalow, with turn-of-the-century buildings, antique, arts and crafts and alternative fashion shops (plus great coffee shops), tiny Federal, little more than a cluster of old houses and a pub, Mullumbimby, another collection of clapboard and iron buildings and some very quaint shops.

Our favourite place was Brunswick Heads, north of Byron at the head of the Brunswick River. Here we found our peaceful beach-side haven in a sheltered cove amongst shady shoreline trees with squeaky white powder sand and the ocean, completely sheltered by the twin spit leading out to sea, gently lapping at the shore. We spent two afternoons lazing here in the sun, listening to pod-casts. And the bakery in Bruns  (in the local parlance) was probably the best we have ever eaten at. ‘Nuff said.