Finding bliss in Byron Bay – or, where the dog could stand on the surfboard, and I couldn’t.

The Brisbane2Byron shuttle cost us a cool $38 dollars, and was a comfortable 2-hour ride from city. Greyhound was 9 bucks cheaper but 2 hours longer on account of the different stops, so we were more than happy to shell out more cash to hang out on the beach sooner. Also, the bus driver with our company was really fun and friendly, so we had a great time with him. He even offered me some of his personal water-bottle supply when a coughing fit overtook me and I sounded like a sick mule (or a plague victim).

In fact, I had horrified the poor people on the Brisbane train one night with a fit that would not quit for a good ten minutes, and I think a bit of lung actually did try to sneak out of my body. This coughing thing would last one more week, in which I think Emilia would have cheerfully slept in a roach-infested alley if it meant she could sleep the night through.

So. Byron Bay.

Belongil Beach, Byron Bay — Belongil Beach, which was out back yard, in the morning.

The town is a not-so-sleepy little beach locale, filled to the rafters with backpackers and vacationing Aussies of all stripes. Our Barefoot tour guide had said if he could retire anywhere, it would be Byron, and it’s not hard to see why. It’s bigger than Airlie Beach, its main street crowded with shops catering to every whim and budget, from touristy knick-knacks to fine home décor to beautiful jewellery, and restaurants. It’s amazing to me how the restaurants here are good, despite the fact that they’re in a tourist town and could really serve up anything they want, because after all, where are all these vacationing people going to go instead?

We had an amazing burger at a little spot on the Jonson Street, which happens to be the main strip, maybe two blocks from the beach. It had little twinkly lights strung up everywhere, pretty wooden tables and chairs, good service and cheap happy hour beer. They take their happy hour seriously here. The term “beer o’clock” is no joking matter, no matter how jokingly someone says it. If it’s beer o’clock, you had better get a move on from whatever you’re doing because loitering now means getting between an Aussie and his beer. And that’s almost like getting between a bear and her cub.

Hippies and Rastafarians were well represented, and people would gather in the public parks after sundown to listen to musicians and watch street performers, sometimes creating space for dancers, sometimes just sitting and listening. One such group had their dance floor taken over by a couple of young boys, no more than 8, who started doing cartwheels and breakdancing for the audience, who in turn kept feeding the energy with their applause. In shadowy nooks, groups of teens were sitting in circles, drinking and generally just being cool. It felt like I happened on a family of raccoons every time I would walk past one of these groups; the conversation would cease, they would all look at me motionless, the light from my torch gleaming in their glassy eyes. Hiiiiiiiiiiiigh as kites.

Super pretty lights, Byron Bay — Fancy Light Shop on Jonson Street, Byron Bay’s main drag.

Byron Bay pop up shop — Not exactly a tourist trap, but not exactly not either, this pop-up shop was pretty cool!

The hostel we chose to stay at was not even 2 minutes from the beach. Actually, make that “across the street”. However long it takes you to cross a street, that’s how long it took from front door to waves. It was on Belongil Beach, which was a quiet stretch of sand and surf to the left of the people-saturated Main Beach (there’s another beach on the right of the Main Beach, but I forget its name. Beautiful beach, but trickier to swim and to surf, as the way the coast is structured, it creates some very strong rips). The hostel was built as an oasis, with simple cottages constructed in a circle around a main grassy courtyard, complete with picnic benches, BBQ pit, palm fonds, and wild turkey-like birds scavenging the leftovers. In front of every other or every third cottage was a hammock, and people would doze in the warm afternoon sun, or read, or hang out head-to-toe and chat. I eyed the hammocks; mom eyed the turkeys. Then she eyed the BBQ.

Hostel in Byron Bay, at Belongil Beach — Front view of our hostel. It was a pretty awesome hostel, the Byron Beach Resort, but be aware that the WiFi is not free. The beach, though, is literally behind me. Like, if I were to take three steps back, I’d be on the sand that is part of the dune that marks the boundary of “freedom”.

Cabins, Byron Beach Resort — By our door. Loving the colour combination of the paint, and how Emi seems to match it effortlessly! 😀

BBQ at the Byron Beach Resort — Mom, telling the turkeys it’s on (like popcorn, like Saturday night at the autobahn), and Emi, who can’t wait for dinner to be wrung, feathered and raosted.

The beach itself is marvelous. The sand was reminiscent of Whitehaven, with the same powdery-softness and squeaky sound but mellower sandy-tones, while the water was clear, and shades of blue kept dancing on the surface: robin’s egg blue, topaz, and a deeper, more royal blue on the horizon. At low tide you could walk out 5-10 meters and still be only up to your knees in the water, though the waves did create little hills and valleys where you could take a step and find yourself in waist-deep. There were people but they were dispersed, so you felt like you had a good chunk of heaven to yourself.

Belongil Beach #1 — Beach shot, one of many to come, because this blog should have been called “Beach Porn”. Incidentally, I wonder how many hits this blog post would have? This is coming over the sand dune across the street from the hostel. It’s almost secluded but not quite, and so serene and quiet.

Low Tide, Belongil Beach — This is the morning, around 10-ish, with the tide out. In the evening, the water rushes back with a vengeance.

Me in the water. Look at those colours — Me in the water. Pretty shallow fairly far in.

Silvia Stroie, Belongil Beach — And some more of me frolicking, just so you get the sense of fun involved in hanging out here. Fun, and yet tranquility too.

We’d go out in the mornings (that’d be somewhere in the neighbourhood of 10 am) and lay in the sun like lizards, soaking up the vitamin D, playing in the surf, generally just being lazy. Then in the afternoon we’d walk along the shore all the way to the main beach, about 20 minutes away, and explore the town. Then we’d load up on food and booze and make the trek back to the hostel. This turned out to be a good way to operate, as we later learned the nights in Byron can get very rowdy. One local said that drugs were endemic and as we’re learning, a drug named Ice is ripping through the population.

Ice is a pure form of methamphetamine that is smoked, causing a spike in energy, and making one feel euphoric. The high tends to last longer than coke (I’m quoting narconon.org) and users can stay up for days with little or no food while they have a supply. On crash, they get anxious and depressed, with intense cravings. Users tend to be violent, and suffer from psychosis, homicidal or suicidal tendencies, and develop a host of problems, from staph infections from sores, to rotted teeth, to heart, liver, and brain damage. We saw a documentary on TV and let me tell you it’s not pretty.

On a brighter note, we discovered dozens of crabs that were busy digging in the sand and/or laying eggs after sundown on our second night walking back with the guidance of a flashlight. They would scurry away into the water as soon as they saw the light with their funny, sideways walk, and you’d hear little “plops” of water as they hurled themselves into the surf. Emi nearly climbed up mom’s back, she was so freaked out, while mom was eying those crabs with the same intensity she had lavished upon the turkeys earlier.

Sunset on Belongil Beach — Emilia’s walk of horrors, as this is the time the little crabs come out from the ocean and do their beach-thing.

Will the crabs get Emilia? — Emi, racing home, while Mom’s gazing at the vast blue beauty. Will the crabs get Emilia, or will she survive the ordeal???

We met a really lovely Danish girl also named Emilia while at the hostel, who told me about Black Dog Surfing academy. It was so named because the owners have a black dog, and said black dog can and does surf. She had done a day’s lesson already and was going for a second day, and encouraged me to sign up. I’d always wanted to surf, and what better opportunity? Plus, I figured if a dog can do it, then I should have no problems, right?

Wrong!!

Now, to be fair, the current was quite strong and fighting the waves to get to the instructor really took the stuff out of you. But it’s exhilarating. I can totally see why surfing is so addictive and also, why surfers have such amazing bodies. Dragging that surfboard into the waves, fighting with them to not bring you right back where you stared from, sanding fast in the face of the surf crashing over you, then catching the next good wave, moving up, and retaining your balance while you ride to shore, really makes every single muscle and tendon in your body work. I managed to stand for 3 seconds after two hours of trying, and it was an amazing feeling. And then I fell from the board and landed on my knee in the sand, scraping a layer or two of skin off, and giving me the mother of all bruises.

Black Dog Surfing — The dog that out-surfed me.

Apparently, my mistake lay in that when I got up on the board, and brought my arms up to shoulder levels immediately instead of keeping them down by the board, so that I’d have a low center of gravity. I kick myself now for having done the lesson on our last full day there, because I’d have loved to go back and do a few more lessons. The guys at Black Dog were awesome: funny, informative, patient, and cool. And they’re local, which is what I’m all about.

After the surfing, we went on a walk to the Byron Lighthouse, which is a magnificent view of the entire bay, and happens to be on the most easterly point of continental Australia. There are pods of dolphins that live in the waters close by year-round, but unfortunately we didn’t see any break the surface when we went. We should have gone and had a picnic, hung out for a couple of hours in order to increase our chances of seeing them. But by then, it was already late afternoon, and we were all starving. We dragged our tired bums off to a nice hot dinner at a local restaurant, and headed home to rest our weary (and in my case, banged up) bones, because in the morning, we were heading off to a whole different adventure.