Somewhere to love

After my swimming excitement yesterday, this morning we tried out the lifeguard-monitored section of the beach, just across the boulders. Another beautiful sweep of sand with, thank goodness, people in a variety of shapes, colours and ages - not just the frighteningly fit, uber-bronzed youth of the surfers beach next door. Jemima proceeded determinedly to befriend any child nearby (Chloe and Hugo, 2 and a half; then Mabel, 1 and a half; and finally Rosie, just 4). What this meant was that I was forced to befriend their parents while we supervised. But actually it resulted in a very pleasant morning of chatting to various Australians about Byron now and in bygone times; their bits of Australia (Canberra to Cairns - Rosie's mum managed the Lagoon that we had loved so much); and to Rosie's grandad about his pilgrimage to Ealing in London to visit the pub that used to be owned by his grandfather - sadly the locals were completely uninterested. I also got some great campsite tips from Hugo's mum, so it was a useful morning too. Plus Kevin and I both had wonderful swims, with a less scary current (and in between the flags...).

It had been a glorious morning, warm but not too hot because of the breeze. But as lunchtime approached, this started picking up (Rosie's family's beach umbrella went flying); so we retired to the van again for lunch and our afternoon rest. The wind got stronger and stronger; the awning of the caravan next door was ripped out of the ground; and reports from fellow campers was that the beach was too sandblast-y to be fun. So instead, Jemima and I ventured to the Byron Bay public swimming pool, next door to the campsite. (This holiday has reconfirmed that while I love outings, reading, and doing sticker/activity books with Jemima, I have very little patience for imaginative play, even on the beach, but for some reason water-based play doesn't bore me at all; whereas Kevin is the opposite - happy to make up games forever on dry land, less keen on an outing or the water.)

It was a lovely change from the beach, with Jemima spending most of her time underwater, as usual, diving for the plastic cups. But it got chilly in the wind, so we dried off, and met Kevin in the main seafront pub for a drink in the sunshine, before he took Jemima for an ice cream while I went to change (I'd remembered clothes for her but not me). We reconvened for dinner in the nearby seafront restaurant - lemon sole, yum; and then as our final hurrah, headed to the edge of the beach to find last night's dancers.

It was earlier, so still light; and so far tonight it was just drummers of various sorts, with a circle of people enjoying it, and one man dancing. Jemima immediately got in there, throwing herself around to the beat. This grew a little confused (I'm not sure everyone was playing to quite the same rhythm), so I asked her to choose which drummer we'd dance to; and of course, she chose 8 year old Phoenix, playing bongos (rather well) next to his mum. She very kindly offered Jemima a go; and with a look of disbelieving joy, Jemima joined the circle: sitting on a rock, with the sea at her back, banging on her bongo with gusto. It was a great moment, and a fitting farewell. We'd all fallen under Byron's spell; not somewhere to live, as Mooloolaba was; but definitely somewhere to love. (And proof it could still be enjoyed aged under 20, and over 30.)

 

Being Byron...

I was up early this morning to do yoga on a shaded grassy headland, overlooking the beach - when in Byron... And it was lovely. Followed by a stroll into town for a smoothie, coffee and croissant (guess which for whom), plus a very necessary bucket and spade. Then we packed up the van and, as one had become free that morning, moved to a cliff top site with a view! Straight over the cliff top railings down to the beach and the sea - glorious. This reconciled us to staying in Byron a bit longer, so we settled in for the day. 

I had a useful (and bizarrely enjoyable) morning of washing, cleaning and sorting while Kevin and Jemima were on the beach; followed by lunch in the van; our regular afternoon rest out of the heat of the sun; and then Jemima and I went for a wander around town. She and I have discovered a mutual enjoyment of pottering, window shopping, trying things on, and generally enjoying being out and about (this not being Kevin's cup of tea, he stayed at the motorhome). We played with some glitter fluffy crowns in one shop; Jemima enjoyed stroking the feathers in the dreamcatchers in another; and, like magpies, pored over the pretty crystals and jewellery, comparing our favourite colours (being Byron, there was an entertaining mixture of fairly posh clothes and beachwear shops, alongside the fun, hippier contingent). Then a quick stop in the supermarket and back to the motorhome to get ready for some more beach time.

We stayed on the part of the beach closest to the motorhome, which we later realised was the surfer beach. Everyone on it was between 20 and 30; conker brown; and extremely fit. There was a man making beautiful sand spheres and balancing them on each other like a cairn; and there were hand-standers, hula hoopers, baton twirlers, and bongo players and their dancers - it was all very Byron, and fun to amongst, even if we weren't a part of it. I went for my usual swim, diving under the waves to get far enough out for the swell to be big and rolling, which you can float with, rather than crashing on top of you, which is less fun. It was wonderful, with water so clear I could see fish. But then I had to get back in. I'm a pretty good swimmer, and like the water, but the current was stronger than any I've been in before - I was making very little headway towards land, and even though I could stand, the pull of the waves rushing out was strong enough to sweep me off my feet. I could see Kevin watching the whole time from the beach; and there were lots of other people by the water; so I was never really in trouble. But I haven't ever felt that the sea was stronger than me before, and it was a bit of a shock. When I did make it out, we decided only to swim by the lifeguards in the future - they were on the next door section of the beach. (Kevin found a good fact - no-one has ever drowned, in the whole of Australia's life guarding history, in the lifeguard flag-demarcated swimming area of the beach. Amazing really. A lot have drowned outside it.)

As the sun started to go down, we retreated up the path for the usual de-sanding shower, and then out for dinner. Jemima had made a specific request to return to the Mexican, so off we went, and miraculously got another frontline table (both nights people were queuing for tables so we were very lucky). It turned out Jemima was mainly interested in seeing if the ladies was still flooded (it wasn't); but it was another lovely evening with tasty food. And then we walked down to the beach to see what we could find.

And, being Byron, what we found was people in varying states of sobriety having an impromptu dance along the beachfront to a mix of instruments from tambourines and a rather good trumpet player to proper bongos, and drums made of different boxes. Never ones to miss a dance, Jemima and I threaded our way into the crowd, her torch leading the way, and then had a very jolly boogie. (A young man in a hat took a shine to Jemima and made her laugh by waving at her a lot.) Then our fun for the night over, we went home, hearing the party continuing behind us. All very Bryon, and rather brilliant to dip a toe into. 

Jemima enjoying the beach dress she chose for my birthday:

 

"Slow down, cheer up, chill out"

For the first time today, I felt my new age. I have long wanted to go to Byron Bay, famous hippie heartland of the Australian east coast. And today, we got there, and I realised I was about two decades too late...

We'd left Brisbane uneventfully, until I realised I'd left the iPad in the campsite internet shack. A frantic phone call later, and the rudest woman in Australia (from the campsite check-in yesterday) had promised to bubble wrap it and post it to our address in Sydney - I felt bad about being horrible about her (must remember, everyone has a bad day now and then...) Then an easy couple of hours later, we had said goodbye to wonderful Queensland (losing an hour in the process - another internal Australian time change); we were in New South Wales, Sydney's state; and we were being welcomed into Byron Bay with a wooden sign painted with: "Byron Bay - slow down, cheer up, chill out", plus (of course) the peace sign. Things were going to be different here.

I was excited. Our campsite was on a hilltop overlooking a beautiful beach: an unspoiled, tree lined bank edging down across some boulders to a sweep of golden sand, cut into two sections by another curve of boulders (we didn't have a view sadly, as our pitch was in the middle of the site, but there were easy steps right down onto the beach). Plus surfers dotting the blue sea, and beautiful weather. Great. We had a little afternoon relax out of the heat, then set out to explore.

And that's when I realised I'd missed my time. 95% of the people we saw were young backpackery types (or slightly older traveller-looking types); and the whole of the town felt like a young, exciting party town with a slight hippie edge. Now, I may still feel young and exciting, but sadly the reality is I have turned into a cliche: I don't like my music too loud, and I do like a sit down. And we're usually back in the motorhome by 9pm latest, to put Jemima to bed). So while Byron Bay may have been waiting for me, fairly unchanged over the years, I unfortunately have changed. Ah well. It was still a great beach.

And we ended up having a very jolly dinner. There was a Mexican on the main drag that advertised kids' meals, and we lucked out with a table right at the front, but under cover. A Corona or two for Kevin, wine for me, some great food (Jemima loved re-constructing her unspicy deconstructed chicken fajita), and actually a rather good soundtrack (50s blues), and the pang of feeling old had faded. And we even had the entertainment of watching a huge tropical downpour from our dry spot: water coming down in sheets, and then flooding down the road (it also flooded the ladies in the restaurant, which Jemima thought was most exciting). As we went back to our motorhome to bed, the young'uns were setting off to party. But actually, I realised I was rather pleased to be going home, rather than going out. Maybe I am my age, after all...

 

Jemima practising baton twirling with a stick, as she'd just seen on the beach:

 

Kevin tolerating yet more photos of him at dinner:

 

And the rain came down!:

 

 

Brisbane to Byron Bay: