Surfers and Hippies Welcome You to True Australia

There’s nothing quite like catching a bus before the sun is up, but cruising out of Sydney as the sun peaked over the horizon, I was off before a single ray graced Sydney’s famous skyline. Travelling up the east coast of Australia I had all my transportation and accommodation booked and was hoping for a safe trip the whole way. The OzExperience bus followed the same path as Greyhound, but offered a more backpacker friendly image while trying to distinguish themselves with drivers who also function as tour guides and some special stops along the way – anything to justify the extra cost vs Greyhound which also offered a hop on hop off service. My first stop would be one of those special ones at Spot X – also known as Surf Camp. This first stop would teach us the skills needed to surf so that we could at least pretend we knew what we were doing if we chose to surf on the way up the coast. After a few pit stops – a couple involving amusing sights such as the world’s biggest banana in Coffs Harbour or the world’s largest prawn in Biloai – we arrived at Arrawarra Beach, aka, Spot X, in late afternoon. Spot X is surfer talk for a surfing spot (usually with sweeeet surf duuuude) which you don’t want discovered, hence, the use of a code word. This ‘spot x’ however, defeats the purpose entirely with massive signs on the highway advertising its existence, thus exploiting an important part of surfer culture to earn money, completely contrary to surfer culture. Ahhh... I love the smell of a sell-out in the afternoon. At this point, people were starting to make friends with others on the bus, and when we were split off into our room assignments, most took time to better get to know our one night roomies. A quick introduction to surf camp from some of the instructors warned us that the night would be a big party, and we wouldn’t get in the water until the next morning. We were given the chance to go back into town to the bottle shop (the Aussie name for a liquor store) before dinner which was an all you can eat smorgasbord featuring a lot of bland and overcooked food. The party kicked off a little later with lots of loud drinking games and shouting in contrast to some quiet background music. The camp had 240 people, way over their usual numbers so the party was particularly crazy. My roomies and I, along with some new friends went back to our dorm (more of a mobile home) to sit and chat on the veranda to avoid the noise. This was my first experience with goon, a drink as infamous to backpackers in Australia as beer is to Canadians. Goon is just a name for what is usually called ‘boxed wine’, ‘cask wine’, or to locals, ‘chateau cardboard’. This is not a quality boxed wine however, this particular brew is made from ingredients that couldn’t cut it in wine production, filtered and processed with the aid of chemicals and other unspeakables. In fact, grapes do not even appear on the ingredients list. What’s more frightening however, is the warning that it “may contain traces of fish or dairy”, two ingredients which are apparently used to help it along in production. Despite the questionable ingredients list, terrible taste, and even worse hang over that is quintessentially part of goon, it remains a backpacker favourite, mostly because of its price starting at only $10 for 4 litres, at roughly the same alcohol percentage as wine. In short, backpackers like it because it gets you drunk on the cheap. I bought none, but sampled some which was on offer for free by those who purchased it and could not stomach it any longer. Sure enough, it worked its magic, and the next thing I knew I woke up with a terrible hangover at 8am, having to get packed up and changed for surf lessons.

At the breakfast table, most showed the usual signs of pain accompanying a hangover as few made it through the night sober. As with dinner the previous evening, breakfast was bland, but the grease worked magic on the hangover and getting us all ready to catch some waves. Our instruction started with the theory of surfing, and some practical safety info important for anyone wishing to play in an environment fraught with hazards such as rips, undertows, crashing waves and dangerous marine wildlife. From here, we suited up in wetsuits, rash guard shirts or otherwise and headed for the beach with our boards. We took a while practicing mounting the board, then headed out into the surf. The waves ranged from a metre to two, but were very constant and rarely crashed without warning. With assistance from the instructors, everyone was up on the board at least once, some taking to it with ease. I managed to stand a good number of times, but wiped out far more times as is the usual for a beginner surfer. The experience of surfing after some proper instruction was far better than the haphazard manner in which surfing is often attempted. No one was hurt, and everyone had fun. After cleaning up and grabbing lunch – which was equally as bland as dinner and breakfast before – we got back on the bus to continue north.

The next stop was Byron Bay, the most eastern town in Australia, home to lots of surfing, and nearby the infamous Nimbin. Because this was the bus’ final stop for the day, we all stayed in Byron Bay, although our accommodations varied. This was last time we would all be in the same bus together, but I would see many of these people again. I was staying in a hostel which would be more aptly described as a complex. A multi acre property, the Arts Factory has dorms, tepees, tent sites, private rooms and more. My first night I was booked into a dorm, but for my next two nights I would make use of the tent I had tried but failed to sell in Auckland. Here too, the price of accommodation was far higher than I was used to, $34 for a 10 person dorm and a far better $18 for a tent. I was glad to save any amount of money and more than willing to put up with nights in a tent once again. The hostel has its own pool, cafe, travel booking agency and across the parking lot the locally popular Buddha Bar. Making quick friends with Liz and Eliza, two Welsh gals, we had a quick swim in the pool before dinner at the cafe and a drink at the bar. That evening was my first taste of the usual Aussie hostels – filled with parties, drinking, and eventually, puking. As I got myself ready for bed, a guy I was talking to earlier was led into the room by a couple guys, apparently unable to stand by himself. He made a terrible racket getting into bed and apologised profusely to all of the room’s occupants. I’ve seen drunkenness before, been drunk myself as well, but this was an introduction to such ritualistic binge drinking on the backpacker circuit such as I have never before seen. Fortunately, he passed out and made no more interruptions throughout the night (apparently having already puked his guts out, multiple times).

My new Welsh friends and I took the 8^th to chill out, spending a good bit of the day on the beach. The ladies were quite content to sun themselves while I set off walking to the end of the beach, taking in the scenery and scouting out a good location to shoot from to take in the sunrise. Byron Bay’s geographic claim to fame is its easterly position on the coast, from where you can literally be the first person standing on mainland Australia to see the sun as it rises in the morning. I wasn’t aiming to catch the very first rays, but would return in a couple days to catch the sun rising over the most eastern points of land in Australia. Through liberal application of sunscreen I managed to come away from a long beach session with only a hint of red – satisfactory considering the number of people walking away lobster red. Part of my day was also spent troubleshooting a problem with vouchers from Backpackers World Travel, having been promised that I would receive hundreds of dollars worth of paid for vouchers in my email, and never receiving them; frustrating to no end to be sure.

Dinner that night was at the local backpacker haunt, The Cheeky Monkey. Offering all sorts of specials and theme nights, the Monkey is never empty so long as there are backpackers are in town. Tonight was Mexican night with themed food and drinks. I went with Liz and Eliza, and we enjoyed the food as well as the free margarita that came along with any themed food purchase! As is typical with the Monkey, the party picked up after dinner, gradually escalating from reasonably quiet dinner time to crazy dance party mode. We made our escape as the music picked up, exploring the town for a quieter venue to enjoy a drink and conversation. We stayed momentarily at a railroad themed bar, but retreated back to the hostel for an even quieter night and some sleep.

On the 9^th, I was off to see this part of the world’s sin central – Nimbin, Australia’s answer to Amsterdam. Admittedly, there is no prostitution, and drug use is – technically – illegal, but through the settlement of hundreds of hippies throughout the past decades and the hosting of Aquarius – Australia’s own Woodstock – the town and surrounding areas have become a safe haven for drug use. Police turn a blind eye to the use and growth of marijuana here, even though Australian law still prohibits it. Ironically, the only place in the country where marijuana use is legal, is Canberra, the capital. Aussies usually explain this away as politicians not wanting their kids to get in trouble with the law for their less than savoury habits. The best way to see the area is with a bona fide hippy, a guarantee if you go with Jims Alternative Tours. In the course of our day on the bus (the second oldest in Northern New South Wales) we listened to rants on the merits of natural living, the evils of the government and the benefits of marijuana and hemp. We stopped in Nimbin for an hour to get lunch and whatever other purchases members of the bus might like to make. Before stopping, the driver gave everyone the talk on responsible usage, not getting ripped off in a purchase, and not getting too high on his bus. I couldn’t believe my ears – instructions like this outside of Amsterdam!? But walking down the street in Nimbin, it’s impossible to ignore the prevalence of drugs. Constant offers for weed, cookies or mushrooms are hurled from all directions and more than a few people are interested in buying. Luckily, a simple ‘no thanks’ goes a long way and will generally keep the uninterested out of trouble. Also in Nimbin is the Hemp Museum, an educational experience on the history of the use of marijuana, the history of the local Aboriginal people, and Nimbin itself. After this stop, we were off for some driving through the woods. Along the way, he played some pretty trippy music for us, while describing the different types of ‘gasms’ one might experience in life. He said that while or-gasms were great, there were so many more ‘gasms’ to be had. He promised us a true ‘mountain-gasm’ and took the bus through a very hilly section of the road. The combination of music, amazing scenery, and hilarious commentary – while not giving me a ‘mountain-gasm’...at least I don’t think it did... – made for a memorable experience and is part of the quirkiness that makes the tour worth it. Our next stop was the forest home of a former New Yorker, come to Australia to live in peace away from the oppressive man. We took a hike through his woods, puzzling at the odd assortment of mannequins, dolls, kitchen appliances and more he has scattered throughout the woods (maybe they’re all protecting him against the government’s newest mind control methods...). We hung out in his hut for a while, sampling some of the local fruit and chatting before heading off for the bus again. After a look off stop we were back to Byron for the end of the tour. All in all, it was a hilarious and enjoyable day, one I would recommend to any visitor of the area, although some older minded travellers might not enjoy it quite the same...

Hanging out with some people from the OzExperience bus for the night, we ended up going out to Cheeky Monkey’s for some dancing and fun. We danced our way into the wee hours of the morning at which point I returned  to my hostel for my camera and made my way down to the beach for the sunrise. While my two Welsh friends were underwhelmed, I was thoroughly excited as the sun came up behind some cliffs, gently illuminating the beach and surroundings. We watched as the earliest rising surfers hit the beach before dawn broke, as morning runners took to the beach and the town came alive. It was a wonderful goodbye to Byron Bay, as I was back on the bus in less than an hour, continuing my trek north.