Back in Brisbane I was re-united with Gumdrop who had waited patiently for me for the last week. For a couple of days I joined in with the backpacker scene and checked into a hostel where I found one or two pleasant people, and many more far too pre-occupied with trying to look good rather than having a decent conversation. I’d already decided to move on when my latest bar room brawl got swiftly underway. No unconscious French girls to drag across Malaysian beaches this time, but an unconscious Irish chap receiving what I decided was a very undeserving beating from a very large bouncer. I happily received a full pint of beer down the front of my shirt before helping the unfortunate victim out of the bar. I was not too pleased at this rather unnecessary escalation of violence by someone whose very job it was to prevent such a commotion, so I went and told him so. I spent a moment explaining to the bouncer the error of his ways and what in fact, his job was supposed to consist of doing. He apologised, so I let him get back to work.
From Brisbane, I made a brief trip south to spend a few days in Byron Bay, once Australia’s hippy haven but now more of a trendy beach resort. It was however, a very pleasant place with sunny days, cool evenings, fine beaches and green hills. I found myself a campsite and soon teamed up with latest friend, Scottish Kat who proved to be great company and a perfect neighbour. We shared a good few beers, pitched in for plenty of camping feasts and generally enjoyed the best of Byron Bay as the sun continued to shine. We were joined on occasions by Rodney The Nudist who’s main contribution to my travels was to politely point out that I was in fact, cooking with my gas stove upside down (yes that’s right, 7 weeks after I started...). This made a World of difference and opened up a whole range of culinary possibilities i’d previously assumed were beyond my capabilities. Pleased, I enjoyed some theatre and then the excellent Alabama 3, obviously a 9 piece band from London. Only 4 bothered to turn up, and with no bass or drums, put on the best gig i’d ever seen that didn’t involve The Wonderstuff.
Since I was in Byron Bay I thought I’d have a dabble at some alternative therapies, and given my perennial lower back troubles, acupuncture seemed like a good place to start.
“Ok Mike, take all your clothes off, lie on the table and I’ll just stab 10 needles into your spine” grinned David.
It seemed to work and I celebrated with a long stroll, which immediately made it worse again. Nevertheless, I rounded Cape Byron and stood on the most Easterly point of Australia and made more new friends – Rebecca and Ella from Melbourne, who were immediately, and rather bizarrely, christened The Psychedelic Hippy Gypsies by a passing stranger. Such is Byron Bay. They kindly let me tag along and we proceeded to pick our way through the boozy mess that is Schoolies, and enjoy plenty more beers and the latest best band I’d ever seen – The Tijuana Cartel, a sort of Faithless meets Segovia if you will (A unique musical niche I admit...).
There was though, one thing I couldn’t miss out on in Byron Bay, so I found myself a rental shop, hired myself a board, and headed out for a surf. None of this “surf school” business for me I thought, I’d surfed Wales in January with talented cousin Tom, surely I could handle mild waves and warm waters. It turns out that I just about could, although it would be fair to say that the word “surfing” could occasionally be replaced with “wrestling”. I tired myself out rather quickly and headed back to dry land pleased with my efforts. The next morning I idly picked up the local newspaper.
“Shark Terror! Byron Bay Beach Evacuated As Killer Shark Circles Swimmers”
Erm... erm... I read on and worked out that there was indeed a 3m Great White shark circling the bay and some stranded swimmers at exactly the same time that I was performing my latest “injured fish” and “look like a seal” impressions just a short distance away. Surfing round the other side of some rocks, I’d been blissfully unaware that the rest of the bay had been evacuated, and no-one thought to come and tell me...
Time of course, had again caught up with me and it was time to move on. A particularly enjoyable place was Byron Bay, made all the more pleasant by new friends who once again must eventually turn in different directions and continue down different paths. My latest path though, was taking me into the hills, where I headed for Nimbin, the actual hippy hangout of Australia, and where I made friends with an old lady down an alleyway, marvelled at the sight of 13 year old boys selling drugs in front of policemen, and then followed the “rainbow serpent path through the museum for a visual multi-dimensional experience of Nimbin history”. I pushed on and made some new campsite friends in Mullumbimby where I used Gumdrop as a taxi service to take them all to the Missy Higgins gig and fund my ticket in doing so.
Inland from Byron Bay it all felt like home, with pleasant rolling green hills, babbling streams and grazing cattle. A few days earlier I had begun randomly chatting to friendly folk in Byron Bay and promised I’d go and visit them up in the hills in their Hare Krishna self sustaining organic commune. This sounded like a very fun place to me, no unpleasant boozy scenes, but peaceful tranquillity and a hint of India. It was indeed very tranquil and I sat in on some sort of lecture that I didn’t really follow whilst some chap played some impressive tunes on the sitar. Everyone seemed very nice as we got up for the afternoon chanting dancing sort of session and I was getting into the swing of things. Then, from a door to the left, Telly Savalas entered wearing pink robes and a garland of flowers. He sat at the front and began to meditate as we all clapped and chanted a little louder. I began to contemplate my World and thought of Gumdrop, left outside in the car park all on his own. More importantly, in the short time I’d been at the commune, I’d already learnt that Gumdrop was in fact packed full of items clearly frowned upon by my new brothers. Was I ready to give up such temptations and weaknesses? ... ... ...in a word, no. I reversed back down the driveway and turned North. Next stop Airlie Beach, where beer, meat and all the other nice things would I’m sure, be perfectly acceptable.
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