Byron Bay

After spending about ten days total in Noosa, Fraser Island, and at the Farm, we kidnapped Catherine, held her at banana-point, and politely requested that she take us to Byron Bay, having heard many a magnificent tale about the quaint coastal hamlet, imparted by voices tinged with tones of utter wonder and amazement. Well, that description might be a little over the top, but it translates to the Aussie way of saying that we heard it was a pretty cool place.


We got into town just as the sun was showing signs of setting, and headed straight for the lighthouse,

at the Easternmost point in all of Australia. It was gorgeous

-and windy as George Bush's spin doctors.

The perfect site from which to spy the scenic seaside spot.



As the darkness encroached, we headed out to our hotel, elated to find that Catherine had managed to do it again. A beautiful 5 star eco-resort, where all the clusters of rooms are named after varieties of trees. A short walk from the beach. A horizon pool. A sauna. And the nicest rooms that I have ever stayed in. Shit, I could really get used to this kind of living. There was even a bottle of wine waiting for us.

Catherine remarked that if she owned an apartment like our room, she would never go out - rather, she would just sit inside and giggle, constantly elated at the place she called home.

I heartily agree/d.

The next morning, we were pretty content to order breakfast in and play backgammon.

We spent the better part of two days beach-hopping, eating, shopping, drinking...

When it came time to go, I reluctantly packed up my things and was dragged, kicking and screaming, to the car and through the checkout process.

I was bawling by the time we pulled away, and Tim had bruised shins. Luckily, we had a mission, a distraction . . . Nimbin!