Swagman #12 – On The Move – New South Wales, Australia

By: George Dunn

Swagman #12 – On The Move
New South Wales, Australia

Finally out of Sydney and on my way up the “backpacker trail” of east coast
Australia. Nikki and I set out by car last Thursday with me behind the
wheel. The first problem for me, of course, was that the steering wheel was
not on the side of the car that I am used to, same as the cars being on the
other side of the road. Even the little things, like the turn signal, is on
the other side of the steering wheel, so every time I went to make a right
against traffic the windshield wipers suddenly began flipping back and
forth. I instinctively reach down with my right hand to change gears and
grab air. Like most things though, you get used to it. Soon I was corrected
and we were on our way to Byron Bay.

At the Byron Bay Bunkhouse we met up with Joe, who is now sporting a beard.
Basically he spent all his money on scuba diving in Cairns, spent a few days
in a rain forest, went sailing in the Whitsundays, bought a tent for $20 off
another traveler, and lost his sunglasses in Noosa, which he was still
complaining about.

The three of us went to check out the town in search of falafels and were
successful. It was the opening day of the Rugby World Cup, so we sat in a
local pub and watched the opening ceremonies, followed by Argentina’s defeat
at the hands of the Aussies. We turned in early and the next morning gorged
ourselves on the free pancake breakfast while trying to figure out how to
save as much money as possible on this trip.

The tent was a blessing, so as
Joe went out in search of a new pair of sunglasses Nikki and I drove around
to find a caravan park where we could set up the tent for the night. Mission
accomplished, we set up the tent a short walk from the beach on a spot that
turned out to be as hard as concrete. Miserable sleep followed, but money
was saved because we had told the lady at the counter that there was only
two of us in the tent. The total price wound up being about $7 each.

I don’t condone this behavior, of course.

After a rough, cold night of sleeping on a stone ground we were grumpy and
therefore headed right back to the hostel and helped ourselves to another
pancake breakfast. No one asked if we were actually guests there, so we
figured no harm, no foul.

Again, I don’t condone this type of behavior.

Byron Bay is an interesting place. The difficulty in writing these entries
while on the move is that I usually do not have the time to do any proper
research. Here is what I’ve gathered on Byron Bay though: As recently as the
1960s this small town was a whaling port, which basically meant that the
water was constantly full of whale blood and whale parts, which in turn led
to the constant presence of frenzied sharks. Needless to say, tourism was
not big at this time. A house on the beach could be bought for a few measly
thousand.

I am not sure which came first, the hippies or the prestigious. My guess
would be the hippies. Tired with the structured drag of contemporary
society, they came in droves and set up tent in Byron Bay. They lived a life
based on returning to nature, schooled their children themselves and
basically set up a community in this, the eastern most point of Australia.
At some point around this time, whaling was made illegal and the sharks
wandered off. It was safe to swim. The wealthy took over, real estate
skyrocketed, McDonald’s moved in swiftly, and nature was commercialized. Now
Byron Bay is a mix of the upper class and those who are still clinging to
the hippie lifestyle. You can go to an expensive restaurant on Johnson
Street and then step outside and buy a hemp necklace off of the barefooted
couple leaning on the building. It is an interesting mix of nature and
materialism and more are coming every day.

I believe, and again haven’t really researched this, that the hippies who
were forced out by the wealthy then moved on to Nimbin, which is inland.
This is where we headed next, and after setting up our tent on Granny’s Farm
we headed into town. As far as I can tell, Nimbin was put on the map by the
1973 Aquarius festival and hasn’t been the same since. It is most notorious
in the travel books and through word of mouth by having an extremely lenient
stance on the consumption of copious amounts of marijuana. It is Australia’s
Amsterdam. Problem is, unlike Amsterdam, it is still illegal in Australia.

What looks good in theory has gone wrong in Nimbin. It is worth a visit to
the town to actually see how life goes on there, but I couldn’t help but
feel a little depressed. I know it is all a matter of opinion, so I’ll try
not to judge, but it is a bit bizarre that outside of the actual town, Nimbin
has that aura of “anything goes” and of course the lure of decriminalized
pot for travelers. Problem is, when you arrive you see a collection of some
of the saddest, most beat down people around. Many of them may have arrived
expecting a way of life that is not present. Even stranger than this is the
presence of the elderly tourists passing through and the farmers who pop
into town every now and then for supplies. I’ve been offered pot plenty of
times in numerous major cities, small towns, and concert parking lots but
never as much as I have in the afternoon we spent in town. One girl offered
it to us on three different occasions. It seems to be the only source of
income, since Nimbin is (from what I’ve heard) the leading town in
unemployment.

Granny’s Farm, for those who do visit Nimbin, was quite nice. It truly was a
farm, with free roaming horses, two playful golden retrievers, and platypus’
in the nearby creek. It only cost the three of us $25 to set up our tent for
the night, and we sat out at night under the Southern Cross in the cold and
drank beer in the field.

The next day we were on the move again, making our way north.