The Byron Bug

My original idea when arriving in Australia was to hang out in Byron for about a week while getting over jet lag and decompressing from the busy months leading up to the trip. I figured one week would be enough and then I would head further north up the coast to Noosa or Cairns for another week before flying to Sydney to meet my friend Danielle. 

However, when my local adventure in Byron continued after that memorable day with Tommy, I found myself pushing out a departure date further and further. Brenda, the innkeeper at Atlantic Guest House, began to hold my bed for days in advance without my request. She even began to shift expected guests to other rooms so that I could have my room to myself. I finally conceded to the fact that I clearly wasn't going anywhere else before meeting Danielle. I had caught the Byron bug.

I spent the next few days following a pattern loosely consisting of the following:
-wake up early
-chill on the beach or write
-have a big breakfast of coffee and toast with hard boiled egg, cheese, tomato, and avo
-take another surf lesson
-have a beer at the Buddha Bar
-head to another locals beach to fish
-cook a late dinner, hopefully with some fresh-caught fish
-crash

By the weekend I had swung fully into the life of Byron. I'd made friends and was getting invited to homes and functions. I helped Chris-O and his family move to their new house. Brenda invited me to pay her a visit at her holiday home in Queenstown on the south island of New Zealand, as I would be traveling through there during her stay. I felt very comfortable in Byron and was fully enjoying my holiday.

Tommy invited me to join him for another adventure that Saturday, in celebration of his birthday. We drove to Ballina, stopping for a big breakfast before taking a kayak out onto the Richmond River. We paddled our way across the salty, turquoise river to a quiet, white-sand beach to do some fishing. A tall wooden pole stood in the water nearby, hosting an osprey nest high above the water. Tommy showed me how to tie the hook and sinkers on the line and how to attach the bait, though he was kind enough to do that part for me as I stood by with a squirmy look on my face.

I cast my line out into the gentle flow of the current, standing ankle deep in warm, clear water. I waited patiently for a bite, but was having a hard time feeling the difference between pulls from the current and what I like to think were bites. Several times I thought I felt a tug, so I jerked the line and reeled it in as fast as I could, only to find nothing had even touched the bait. So, I continued to cast the line and wait.

I finally felt what I knew was a solid chomp from a fish. I quickly jerked the pole up hard and fast. I reeled the line in smoothly, feeling the pull from the struggling fish on the other end, my pole bending from the heavy weight of the poor animal. I worked hard to maintain control and lifted the pole to find a massive flathead flapping in fury!

Truth: I got tired of standing there in the hot sun waiting for nothing and decided to reel in the line to take a break. Apparently a fish caught sight of the moving bait and decided to go for it. I had no idea the fish had taken the bait and had hooked itself on the line until I had reeled it in almost completely and saw the fish on the surface of the water. It was a small flathead. Whether or not I caught the fish or it caught itself, I still had a fish on my line. IT STILL COUNTS!

The flathead was a few centimeters too small to keep, so we had to throw it back. Unfortunately the dang fish had been hooked through the eyeball. I had blinded the poor thing, but couldn't put it out of its misery. I gave up fishing for the day and went for a refreshing swim, instead.

After a light snooze under a tree, we headed back out in the kayak and paddled up river to a mangrove forest. Tommy let me put my paddle away for awhile to enjoy the peaceful scenery while he silently steered us through low hanging branches. I sat back and watched the sunbeams glimpse through the trees, illuminating the life below the water's surface. The chorus of birds, frogs, and insects swam through the thick, humid air. All was peaceful and still.

Back in Ballina, we rewarded ourselves with a large ice cream cone. I managed, as usual, to drip ice cream on my clothes and smear it on my face, much to Tommy's amusement as well as the elderly couple sitting next to us. While trying to control my cone, Tommy and I discussed the evening's plans. As it was his birthday, Tommy and his friends had planned to get together for bowling, with the added twist of dressing in all white clothing. When Tommy invited me along, I couldn't figure the novelty of dressing in all white clothing to bowl in an alley with french fries and beer. As I came to find out, we weren't bowling like Americans. Rather, we were going to play a sophisticated game of lawn bowling, enjoyed by citizens of Commonwealth countries around the world.

Tommy and I drove all around Ballina in search of an open op shop in which to purchase some white bowling apparel. Apparently, the entire town of Ballina takes the weekend off, including many retailers. After a last minute purchase of white shorts, a white top, and a large-brimmed sun hat from Target (yes, they have Target in Oz, but it's more expensive than Target in the States and has less selection), I was ready to get my lawn bowling game on.

Lawn bowling is a bit like bocce ball, but you play the game at a bowling club on a court that looks like a large putting green. Bowling clubs are as prevalent here as country clubs in the States. You must pay to be a member of these clubs, which awards you unlimited lawn bowling, or you can pay a one-time guest fee. The clubs feature, at least, numerous outdoor bowling lanes, a bar, and a restaurant. Apparently, many bowling club in-house restaurants serve Chinese cuisine. Naturally.

I was pleased to win a round of bowling, as I was new to the game and there is actually a good bit of technique and skill involved. As the bowling and drinking rounds continued, however, everyone's level of skill and sophistication began to wane, so we retired to the restaurant for some good conversation and Chinese food.

My time in Byron was quickly coming to an end, as I was due in Sydney to meet up with Danielle and fly to New Zealand. I spent my last day taking a final surf lesson, catching some good waves along with some great wipe-outs, and enjoying a feast of fresh oysters, wine, and fish curry with prawns and kingfish.

Byron Bay had been very good to me. I felt fully relaxed, and rejuvenated. I had fantastic adventures, and met some wonderful people. I thoroughly enjoyed my time there and was sad to leave. But new adventures awaited me in new places. It was time to recover from the Byron bug.