September 13 - 16th. Byron Bay.
- Chips and bongos by the sea.

We arrived in Byron bay in the late afternoon via a children-packed school bus from Mullumbimby. Byron is a fairly alternative/hippy place (be it slightly watered down to made it more palatable to tourists) and the same was true of our hostel, the arts factory. A big, rather industrial, place it never-the-less succeded in having more character than your standard hostel (certainly a load more than any YHA you could care to name) on account of lots of nightly activities (open mic, talent show) and a whole series of facilities throughout the complex such as a cinema, day spa and bar. It had an unfortunate undertone of almost being a hippy amusment park, letting people tick off 'go to Byron and be a hippy' without ever venturing into the outside world, but some of that vibe was probably down to my own cynicism...or perhaps I was simply not happy to be back in a dorm once more, however briefly! In the end it was a decent enough place to stay for a few nights...but I'd opt for someplace else (cheaper!) were I to find myself in town again.

When the seemingly endless stream of Camden-like shops got too much there was the beach to head down to, in fact this would pan out to be where we spent most of our time. Beaches are far from a rarity here and more are beautiful than not...but this one seemed especially impressive, be it seen reflecting the light during the gorgeously hot days or providing a seat and backdrop to the sun setting into calm, serene nights...it provided a good escape from the hi-energy maddness of the place...if you concentrated hard enough you could even black out the incessant banging small clusters of dreadlocked characters made on bongos all down the surely (surely the same beat must get boring after a while!) On our first and last night we brought fish and chips and ate it by the sea...life provides such challenges to rest our resolve.

We wandered. Browsed through an ace aboriginal art gallery/shop. Brought a cup of chai in an off-main street cade, a bad random choice as it was awful. Mused about local character after seeing, I kid you not, a man walking a dog with a length of string. Brought a sole something (about half way between a half and a pint, names vary state to state) of semi-decent beer and slowly treaured it in a semi-decent pub garden. Watched a 'talent show' in the hostel incorporating the rubbish, passable, the occasionally brilliant or at least bizarre enough to hold attention and the obligitory percussion jam that Liz assured me was excellent. Relased in the abscence of small children.

On the day we were to leave I did the two hourish return walk over to the Cape Byron lighthouse, the rotating light from which punctuated each night. By the standards of some of the treks we've been on it was easy going (AKA - not a mountain) but I still had to pause occasionally at the top of prolonged climbs, moments that typically coincided with OAP joggers barking for me to make room for them. The views down across the bay were fantastic, as were those inland, I went past the most easternly point on the Aussie mainland (the type of acolade signs were made for) and then touched the lighthouse, smaller than I expected but still, erm, a lighthouse, and then doubled back the way I'd came.

And I got a new hat (brown) to replace the one (green) that had magically vanished between Perth and Fiji. Must have been a good few days then.