The Water's Brown So We Might As Well Swim

Goodbye sweet summer.

We've now got 100 hostel mates, and it'll grow to 130 by this afternoon. It's back to brushing up on my calculus, physics and chemistry... and crocheting, painting and drawing. I just picked up a couple books from the library on colour and upholstery. Scotty is back in school and I am sooo jealous (weird how that happens- you get out of school and then can't wait to go back), so I am going to pick up some notebooks and a day planner (I love day planners!) and do a little self directed studying.

Last night Scotty and I went for a "late" (10pm) night walk. The air was warm, the city lights twinkled below us and everything was quiet (except for our street- where a drunken party had been raging since dinner). I got nostalgic for the nights of summers long ago when I used to play with the neighbourhood kids and return to the house when it got dark. We ran into an animal I have never seen before, and I have no clue what it is called (like a giant bushbaby/squirrel).

Anyways,

....once upon a time in Australia, two weary travellers travelled south from Brisbane and found themselves in Byron Bay.

I would describe Byron Bay is the "Whistler/Tofino" of Australia. We pulled into this magical little town after dark on boxing day. Boys in board shorts and women in gauzy bohemian dresses spilled into the streets. One hopped-up lady actually flashed the car as she was crossing the street in front of us.

"Where are we?"

"Where everybody else is."

Sleeping in a car is an art. Not only do you have to perfect balling your clothing into a pillow, make "curtains" out of shirts by closing them in the top of the door or finding that perfect balance between leg room and seat recline (because you can't have maximum of both at the same time in a Suzuki Swift), but you also have to find a place to park the car.

Australia is awfully accepting of people sleeping in their cars. Many of the rest-stops are overflowing with camper vans, but many are just off the freeway, and the art of sleeping through semi-trucks straining to get up a hill just isn't something I am interested in learning. Luckily, we had Brian's GPS (I switched the voice to an Aussie bloke named "Brad"), so we'd usually search for a neighbourhood park (and I would start to get testy after the 3rd "miss"). We stumbled upon this amazing, dark and super quiet lot. Our headlights revealed a handful of camper vans also staying in the lot with us.

That night was hot. So hot. I slept in a tank top and capri tights. Despite having our windows down and sleeping barefoot with no blankets, I woke up a few times plastered in sweat. There was zero air flow- not the slightest bit of breeze, so it was quite a surprise the next morning, at 6am, when I pulled back the t-shirt curtain to reveal a parking lot full of (noisy) surfers (apparently we were sleeping next to the beach). Scotty had been up since 5am. By 6:20 I threw in the towel and grumpily admitted that we needed to move.

BYRON BAY CATERS TO RICH HIPPIES AND YOGI'S

As we pulled out, people were actually waiting for spots! We pulled into a side street and tried (and failed) to have a nap on the beach. While I was gone to fetch some fruit from the car, Scotty spotted dolphins playing in the surf. When I got back, he had this wild-eyed look as he told me about it- his mouth was moving, but his brain was thinking about swimming the 600m out to them. Instead, we hiked along the beach path and took in the amazingness of this place.

WE TRIED FOR A NAP, BUT ENDED UP WATCHING SURFERS AND DOLPHINS

AN ABSOLUTE STUNNER OF A BEACH, AND IT JUST GOES ON FOR MILES AND MILES. SOMEWHERE DOWN THERE IS ELLE MACPHERSON- WE LATER SAW THAT SHE WAS PHOTOGRAPHED ON THE BEACH THE DAY WE WERE THERE

After wandering the boutiques and grabbing a coffee in town, we headed to Lennox Head. There were breath-taking views of seven mile beach from the top of Pat Morton/Lennox Point lookout- we watched a pod of tiny surfers below as they carved along the waves and disappeared into barrels.

NO GOLF, NO SHOOTING, NO GROUND CAMPING? LIGHTEN UP PAT.

HE DIDN'T WANT TO BRUN HIS SCALP

A mere few hundred meters off Seven Mile Beach lies Lake Ainsworth.

The deep rust-coloured water is a result of tannins from the therapeutic oils effused from surrounding tea trees. Swimming in this natural tea tree lake seems a bit odd at first, but seeing the crowds of people along its shores makes it seem okay to climb into its dark brown water. Not being able to see my feet while standing knee-deep in the water was a bit unnerving for me, but as I got past the overhanging branches, the leaf-covered bottom turned to sand and the water was so warm- it was begging to be floated in. If I had a tube, I would have floated in those peaceful waters all day.

TEA TREE LAKE

I'VE REALLY MASTERED THE STARFISH

But we didn't have all day. We towelled off and climbed into the car with our drippy hair and damp togs and drove, windows down, to Angourie. This tiny town, and I mean tiny (population under 200 people), is home (he grew up here and now has a sprawling manor) to Gordon Merchant- founder of Billabong. Despite the lack of signs, Scotty and I found the blue pools. These popular swimming holes are separated from the crashing surf by a rock shelf and lie only 20m from the ocean. Scotty scaled the limestone cliffs for a little cliff-jumping.

WATCHING HOW IT'S DONE. MAKING SURE IT'S SAFE.

These pools used to be a rock quarry until an underground spring found its way into them, and now provides an unreal bathing haven- a peaceful place to watch the giant waves smashing into the rocks just footsteps away.

HELLO BLUE EYES

Our day ended in Coff's Harbour. I was completely blown away by the kindness of an old highschool friend who had gone out of her way to make sure that we be able to enjoy her house while she and her family were away. I cannot even explain the elation we felt dropping our bags onto the floor, putting groceries for that night's dinner on the table and seeing a bed waiting to be slept in! No matter how much you recline the seat, you are never totally horizontal sleeping in the Swift. Three nights om the car later, Scotty's ankles were huge and my toes were like sausages (next time we'll wear pressure stockings). A night in the Hammill's bed did wonders for our swollen feet. I think we slept 11 hours straight. Bliss.

Becky and her hubby Steve are gold in my books. She had seen that we were coming to Australia and made sure to let us know that we were welcome to stay with them whether they were home or not. After dropping our bags on the floor, we immediately bee-lined to the back yard to meet the beloved Ruca. There was an immediate bond between Scotty and her. It's moments like the photo below that make this girl's heart swell with love for that man. The tenderness of a man who melts for animals and talks to them in a higher and softer voice (which they are completely unaware that they're doing)- it just kills me.

THEY ONLY JUST MET, AND ALREADY BFF'S

WHOA. THAT IS AWESOME.

We spoiled Ruca and not only let her in the house, but Scotty shared his teriyaki chicken with her... it's what aunties and uncles do best- break all the rules.

SHARE YOUR CHICKEN, GET A FRIEND FOR LIFE

And to top it all off, not only did the Hammill's leave their house and puppy to us, but Becky also wrote out some spots worth seeing in the area and set out a bottle of wine with two glasses with directions to a spot to enjoy the sun set. Sadly, we an hour late, but the wine was enjoyed in the backyard- Ruca happily chewing on a bone nearby, birds singing a final song against the pale pink sky, and dinner cooking on the stove.