Byron bay

There is sort of something about the beach down at Byron Bay that seems to attract anybody and everybody. Well, not quite because there is a sort of person that seems to like this particular beach, and they are probably the young, or the young at heart. As for me, well, I wouldn't necessarily consider it to me one of those beaches that really grabs my attention. I was okay, but then again I'm not really a beachy sort of person.

Byron Bay . . . how long have you got? Depending on who you ask, Byron is either Heaven, or Heaven. Everyone loves it sick, bro, in fact there's very little not to like. The backpackers? The prices? Yes, and sure, but compared to avalanche of good things about this place, these pale into insignificance. Now, I'm a beach-goer of some 30-odd years experience, and this might very well be the most epic and welcoming beach in Australia. Split by a rock wall there's one huge flat swimmers paradise to the right, and to the left a shipwreck and a surfing Valhalla. Don't even get me started on Wategos. Sit on the grassy hill and watch the giant martian moon come up after sunset and hang over the beach like a glowing spaceship. Sip wine. Strum a guitar. Smoke bongs. Whatever your pleasure, it's pretty much game on at Byron. Love. Love love love. In the words of an American colleague in her truly awful Australian accent: "Bist ivva!"