Byron Bay - Home of the Yippies

Byron Beach - red water?? how bizarre
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So after our week of city living in BrisVegas Em and I needed to recharge our batteries and get straight back into the swing of doing very little most of the time so we headed to Byron Bay.  And do very little we did!  Byron is perfect for anyone who wants to recharge, rest and recover, it is the epitome of stillness and down time with a lovely sandy beach, a beautiful coastal walk and a calming town centre.  Unfortunately this all comes at a price and Byron is the place where cosmoploitan yuppies get hippy.  The coffee shops are pricey, the juice bars are exuberant, ice cream costs a weekly wage and the hostels charge through the roof (a bed in our 10bed dorm was $24).  If you want to take a yoga class here you should remorgage your backpack and the guy in the book exchange charged me $5 to swap my copy of Don Q with The Fellowship of the Ring - pah!  Despite the local yippies Byron does still have a charm and Em and I certainly felt calmer the moment we arrived.

Emma mimes to get money...
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We stayed in the Bunkhouse (expensive but lovely) which is situatred in the heart of the town and is run by two incredibly friendly guys.  The large communal area was a real bonus and was one of the best spaces I think I've encountered so far with 2 nice wide balconies both of which were perfect for alfresco dining - 1 for brekkie, 1 for tea.

Byron is perfect for anyone who wants to recharge, rest and recover

Byron from the lighthouse walk
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We spent the first day here wandering around town, looking at all the yippy pilates mats, collapsing at the cost of crystals, giggling at the idea of toddler yoga, debating if we could afford a coffee (good coffee is one of life's luxury's so yes we did get one, in fact I don't think Em has drunk so much caffine in her life -sorry Em), meeting buskers who have to audition for their pitch, drooling at delicious looking cakes ('m sure they were gluton, sugar, flour, wheat and coco free so maybe not so delicious aye?) and lazing on the beach.

A windswept Max and Em
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Having witnessed all the healthy yippies run along the beach and dive into the sea in perfect arcs the next day we decided we too needed some exercise so headed off to walk to the lighthouse.  This is an exceptionaly beautiful walk as you wind your way up though the Byron Bay nature reserve with the coast on one side and bush on the other until you hit Australia's most Easterly Point and the Lighthouse.  The views here are fantastic if a little windy so Em and I found a sheltered bench, sat down and ate our homemade sandwiches, oohhing and agghing at the picturesque scene before us like a couple of old pensioners - perfick.

The famous Giant Shrimp on a garage on the way from Byron to Newcastle... hmmm...
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To make up for our rather old-age couple daytrip we got back to the hostel, slapped on some make-up and girly dresses and went out to take advantage of dinner, glass of wine and a night of comedy for $25.  Em had cannilly spotted the deal in the local paper and had promptedly booked us in so off we tottered.  The restaurant was fantastic serving up the most delicious piece of baked fish and perfectly cooked vegetables and being Max and Em we washed this down with a beautiful bottle of white wine and a couple of cosmopolitans.  Yes we know yet again very unbackpacker but we really are trying...  The comedy wasn't up to much however but we giggled at all the appropriate moments and merrily enjoyed ourselves and had a perfectly romantic evening (I think everyone else in the venue were in a couple).

Now if we were sensible lasses we would have stopped the evening when the comedy finished but we aren't sensible and are incapabale of walking past a bar that is playing good old cheesey pop music (yep a lot of yoof come to Byron along with the yippies).  This being the case as we were heading back to the hostel we encountered Cocomangas and then found Cheeky Monkeys and I'm sure you can imagine the rest, our graceful grown-up evening turned into something a little more debauched and drunkered including chatting to randomn strangers about lord knows what and dancing on tables.  Ho hum!

As we nursed our heads the next day we met a lovely young chap called Marty and his pal Ross for lunch and all reached the conclusion that hangovers do get worse as you get older and a night with very little sleep does indeed destroy braincells.  So my last memory of Bryon involves sitting very quietly on the beach until Mr Greyhound arrived to whisk us of to Newcastle (and the wine region) and away from all the healthy, centred yippies and the bright sparky young'uns.