Tuesday, June 7, 2011

Byron Bay

Two words: Kicking back.
With the bustling city to our back, a transition begun in a whole new world of exploration. Our guide for the first leg was nicknamed Hog, leading us with music and stories. Tunes included those of Slim Dusty, paired with stories about Croc Dundee. The infamous Croc was actually a common bridge painter; painting the harbour bridge year round, end-to-end and back again. Looking back on Sydney, next to the bridge at the Oprah House, the designer went more than double over his budget, and was tod his design would never pan out, however it was funded to creation, but the designer was not allowed back in the country, and died before ever seeing his creation. Even further back in Sydney history, many prisoners died on the first ships sent from England. Surprisingly the first ship was not so bad, but the second ship, the prisoners were not allowed to see the light of day, and therefore suffered awful cases of scurvy due to malnutrition. Scurvy leads to skin turning black, tooth and hair loss, as well as the reopening of old scars and wounds....

So Hog carried on with his stories, narrating the trip, helping spot wild kangaroos on the roadside. I saw nearly ten today, along with hundreds of horses and thousands of cows. This was followed by heaps of banana plantations (sidenote: banana trees are a lot smaller than I imagined). Following a quick nap we finally arrived at our first destination, SPOT X. Hog then proceeded to discuss how surf spots are all given nick names when they are discussed or published, names that you would never find on a map; names that you need to earn your stripes to find out where they actually are located. After a short look around the surf town, which was quite small, we continued our journey as the sun began to set.

Keeping a keen eye our for our hopping highway marsupials, a game of cards ensued as well as some light reading and some salt and (malt) vinegar chips... the Aussies call em crisps. Rocking up at Byron we were treated to a story about some academics from Equador who built traditional rafts in the 1970s and sailed all the way to the East coast of Australia. After a journey of 6 months, this group of three flew home; to the amazement of their peers this lucky bunch had just proved that without paddles or motors, ancient societies may have used these ocean currents for trade and transport. Three years later this group decided to do it again to prove it was not a fluke and instead did the same journey with three boats; again using traditional balsam wood and a somewhat less-traditional, but somehow appropriate hemp.

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