So far, two things have made our winter sojourn in Byron Bay different from at least the last two years.
- My habit has been to rise early and work for a few hours most days. And for pretty much every year I can remember I’ve travelled to Melbourne at least once while we’ve been here. This year I decided to fence it off and have a holiday, only responding to a handful of emails each day. Switched off.
- The last two years have been wet. I mean, digging-trenches-around-tents-in-the-middle-of-the-night wet. This year, the only clouds we have seen, literally, have been in the distance over the sea horizon. Clear blue skies. Everyday. All day. Brilliant starry skies and colder than typical evening and mornings. This year most of us have left the water-proofing tarps folded up. Happy.
And there are many good things that stay the same. Friends with whom to share cups of tea and waves. Happy hour drinks on the wooden deck overlooking The (iconic) Pass. Weary bodies and stiff shoulders from lots of “just one more wave” decisions. Treks to the light house, a kind of pilgrimage, or at least a ritual. Evenings in the caravan, where we retreat and cook comfort food (dhal tonight), reading, watching and writing stuff.
Today we got in the car, first time since we arrived on Monday, and went across to Brunswick Heads for lunch and, as it turned out, a slow and lazy afternoon. There is something about that place. It keeps drawing us back. We’ve been on some incredible beaches over the years, but I reckon the one at Brunswick Heads is my all time favourite. Its wide open white sand and powerful turquoise surf invite you to forget whatever else is happening in the world and take it all in. We’ve not been there in the height of summer when I’m sure there are more people, but the sand is so expansive that people tend to spread out, rather than cluster … I like that.
We loved our lunch at the Green Monkey (Vegie café) and we sat on the grass by the river and watched people canoe and SUP while we ate ice cream (chocolate and ginger.)
There is nothing meaningful to say. I just love living in our yurt (caravan) in this part of the world.