Nimbin

Nimbin is a town unlike any other. We could smell it coming from a mile away. I was feeling quite stoned upon exiting the car, and I hadn't smoked a thing.


And then came the offers. To buy. From just about every person in town. The very same lady offered to sell me some of her shit twice - within five minutes. The whole town is centered around the growth, sale, paraphrenalia, and consumption of ganja. As the story goes, thousands of people came to town for a festival some years back . . . and never left. I could see how the arresting beauty of the surrounding landscape could entice one, or many, to stay. The Marin-esque scenery was as striking as a gavel.


So we doodled around town, checked out the local shops,

picked up a few novelty items, and went to the bar for a beer on the back porch.

Drinking our beers, we noticed what was likely to happen to patrons of that establishment. Most of them were having a very hard time walking, or even talking for that matter. They were stopping and dropping like flies.

We headed over to the town's museum, an overwhelming testament to world peace, brotherly love, and getting stoned. We found, among other things, a fabulous tie collection,

a magnificent mix of eggbeaters,

some stray mannequin limbs,

a toy cop on a tractor,

some very interesting art,


some vintage posters,

and some marvelously moving messages







Our brains nearing implosion, we finished up and decided to get on the road.

And what a drive it was.

Arresting beauty, indeed. Well not quite, but Timmy got a speeding ticket.
We stopped at the Big Banana

Heh.

("Big" things are huge in Australia), spent the night in Coffs Harbor, where I learned how babies are made

and continued on our way down to Sydney the next morning.

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!