Byron Bay & Nimbin

We pulled in to Byron Bay and knew immediately that the rumors were true--this town was the love child of hippies and surfers and had no intention of being anything else. Young people everywhere walked around barefoot, dreaded, and mostly naked, showing off tattoos that covered their backs, arms, and bellies. It is impossible to tell locals apart from travelers--everyone is dirty, eating cheaply, and out for a good time. The small town is loaded with kebab stands, dive shops, hostels, tattoo parlors and caravan parks that back right onto the beach. With a few hours left before sunset, we spent two hours walking a flat beach of blue green water, with the Byron Bay lighthouse in view. Early the next morning, we drove out to the lighthouse, a few minutes from where we slept, and greeted the sunrise at Australia's most easternly point. After some more sleep, we went to visit one of Byron's parents--Nimbin, the motherly marijuana loving parent of the pair.

An hour or so inland, Nimbin is set far back down country roads. Just minutes after you leave the coast, you feel like you are in rural Pennsylvania--cows line the roads, green is the predominant color, and cell service is lost. We followed winding roads to Minyon Falls, a mildly impressive falls that took us through tiny towns and further confused our way to Nimbin. Coming from the Falls, finding Nimbin was a challenge considering signs pointed in both directions for the same town. Confusing in the least. We made it there in time to see that the late 1960's still lived a healthy existence in this village town--indeed, it was the same people who lived through that great age of Aquarius that still inhabited the streets of Nimbin. No matter whether they were fifteen or fifty, their offering was the same: marijuana cookies, joints, brownies, hash. They whispered after you, discreetly selling their wares, yet they showed no fear. The main street was full of organic fruit, hemp clothing, and locals spilling out of the only pub in town, as King Farook played their best jam band jams. Women in their sixties swirled in head-to -toe tie-die. Long haired men with babies on their hip and beers in their hand nodded their head with the rest of the folks. The Irishman in charge of our caravan park told us to check out whenever--things were lax here. To say the least...

To see photos of Byron Bay, please click me