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Just for your information, the picture has no relevance to Byron Bay, which is a small town which is, like most along the East Coast, almost entirely in existence to serve backpackers. It was largely than some of the other places and boasted a recognisable town centre of at least five (5) streets. I had left the girls and travelled down with the two Marks and a few others. The town has very busy on the day we arrived, and once more there wasn't a single hostel bed available. No problem, I'd been in this situation before - cue a small motel room and 5 people crammed in enjoying cable TV and 2 minute noodles (the staple diet of any self respecting backpacker).
The next day the crew decided to take a bike ride to the town's lighthouse, which was on top of a particularly large hill. The spot also boasted Australia's most easterly mainland point, surely something we needed to see! By now we'd moved to a hostel where we rented out some shoddy bikes - one had to be replaced before we even left, and the others didn't look to good. A couple of friends at a different hostel hired out decent bikes from a specialist shop - oh how envious we were. The trip up the hill was a killer - it was so damn steep, although the occasional heavy shower helped cool us down, and cover the fact that most of us were soaked through with sweat. As if that bike ride wasn't bad enough, we had to hike up and down a few hills to get to the most easterly point - the views were impressive, but not worth all that effort. On the way down we on the shoddy bikes discovered that our breaks didn't work all that well. My fists were clenched tightly around the brake levers just to slow me to a controlable speed. Surviving the downhill, I found that one of the chain cogs had come off and I couldn't actually cycle (the bikes were that bad) , so I was forced to use it like a skateboard the rest of the way back.
After that ordeal we needed some drinks, so we hit a hostel bar, and who would be there but the Norwegian Niks from Fraser Island! Since we parted ways they had driven up to Cairns and were on their way back down to Sydney again. Somewhere along the way they had hit and killed a kangaroo, which had smashed their front bumper and crumpled the license plate something awful. With them were Gav, an English bloke headed North and Little Jimmy, a fresh faced 18 year old who looked about 14 and had been left to travel on his own after his friend had got homesick and b*****ed off home. The group of us decided to form a drinking group, as there was little else to do there due to the rain. Now let me tell you something of the rain we experience in Byron Bay. There was a lot of it. It was heavy. It was persistent. One day the main street flooded to the extent that you were wading shin deep down the pavement. For most Aussies it was practically the first rain they'd seen in their life, but for us hardened European types it was the perfect excuse to stay in and get drunk.
Byron Bay is home to the legendary backpackers nightclub Cheeky Monkeys, were the tables are large and made of solid metal as they form the dance floor. If you pass through Byron Bay and don't go to Cheeky Monkey's there is something wrong with you. On our first night there we were accompanied by a group of Norwegian girls. Gav and I were soon stood on our own (Little Jimmy couldn't get in as he had previously been kicked out and stolen the queue barrier. When he had reached the other side of town with it a car pulled up and the bouncers had jumped out before flooring poor Jimmy and taking back their precious barrier) as the huge Norwegian contingent gabbered away drunkenly, which led to the 'No Norwegian' rule of subsequent nights). The two Niks offered me a ride to Sydney in their camper van - my bus ticket already took me there, but they said they wouldn't charge for petrol and I wanted to see if we could mow down any more of Australia's crazy critters. We passed a few more nights at Cheekys. Some people left, the girls I'd traveled with before arrived.
On the one sunny day we went to a local market which was full of hippies from Nimbin, the nearby town where everyone smoked pot and the police just seemed to turn a blind eye. I have an irrational dislike of hippies (well it is rational really), and quickly left to enjoy some bodyboarding while I still could. Quick tip - don't bodyboard topless unless you have elephant skin - my front was red raw by the end!
By the last night we were tired, and most people had left. I had to move hostels as mine was full, so the Niks and I arranged to have an early night and meet in the morning. I vowed to be as anti-social as possible and basically not speak to anyone and therefore not run the risk of staying up late.
They were showing films in the lounge so I went over - the U shaped sofa was full so I sat on the floor at one of the ends. A while later a sizeable spider ran from under the TV and straight under the other end of the sofa. Those sat on the sofa didn't seem too bothered, but I was. I couldn't show this though, so I endured another fearful ten minutes of the film (I wasn't enjoying it anyway, some Jim Carrey schlock about the number 23 - one fool in the room who had seen it took all the amazing facts it spewed out as gospel and was astounded by this huge numerical conspiracy) before leaping up and making a quick exit.
The next morning the Niks and I set off, crammed into the front seats, which although made for 3 didn't really fit three. We passed time on the straight and boring Aussie roads by gossiping like girls and sharing our musical tastes over the iPod speaker - I had the pleasure of listening to some questionable Norwegian tunes (some were actually surprisingly good). We made regular stops to eat/fuel up/change drivers. My driving duties were limited to parking in petrol stations - I wasn't insured and they had already mangled the front of the van on the kangaroo, so understandably they didn't want more trouble. We overnighted in a town called Newcastle. The lonely planet guides wax lyrical over its nightlife and music scene. Granted we didn't leave the vicinity of the van all night, but I'm pretty sure they're lying. It looked like a dumb, and was chock a block full of morons circling around town in their souped up extra loud cars. I was glad to get out of there and hit the road again, Sydney bound.
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