THE GREEN, GREEN GRASS OF HOME
As you drive down the east coast and pass from Queensland into New South Wales it's not difficult to see how the place got its name. Mountains: check, valleys: check, green fields full of cows: check, rain: check. Thankfully the rain passed quite quickly. We are staying in the Belongil Beach House. The brochure for this place is the most creative piece of marketing I have ever seen. The brochure shows spacious, bright and modern rooms with couples sipping wine on their balcony. The reality is a 25 year old wooden hut with paper thin walls that reeks of damp. The other residents are a mix of dreadlocked surfer dudes and ageing children of the revolution: nanas channeling their inner Demis Roussos in oversized kaftans. Add a few cats, evenings spent zoned out on recreational drugs and you've basically got a badly decaying hippy hangout populated by people who are old enough to know better. One compensation is that we are only 50 feet from the beach. The beach is lovely and the surrounding mountain scenery is beautiful. It's very laid back here and the place attracts a lot of surfers (every third vehicle is a 'Wicked' campervan). The town has plenty of nice shops and restaurants and there is nothing much to do except sit on the beach with a book; which is exactly what we have been doing.
Next stop Sydney…