Heaps Good

Main Beach Car Park, Byron Bay

On Monday, I left Byron Bay and spent a night up at Mount Nathan on the Gold Coast with a dear friend I made in the Philippines. We fed the kookaburras and the wallabies that visited her huge and beautiful home and kept a careful eye on the forest of surrounding gum trees hoping for a koala sighting as we caught up on each other’s scuba diving stories. We didn't see any koalas before it was time for me to leave, but just being there and imagining that they could see us was good enough for me. And then yesterday morning, my Siquijor friend drove me to the airport for a final stint in Sydney with my not-so-faraway son.

Before leaving Byron, the weather got a little crazy, but not in the way I thought it would given the forecasts. I guess I really am a slow learner because it never does. The rains did hit and they hit pretty heavily but not as heavily as they had done the week before. And, after the deluge, the weather quickly returned to scorching with temperatures up in the high 30s.

On most mornings, before it got too hot, I walked along Tallow Beach before heaving myself up the trail to the Lighthouse. I’m not sure it ever got any easier. I had started doing it in the name of fitness, but soon realised I was doing it just as much for the dolphins. One day, I saw a huge pod of 30 or more. They’re not always there, but when they are, they’re such a joy to watch, especially when they’re riding waves and playing in the surf. Us lighthouse runners sometimes found ourselves gathered in one particular spot and would all marvel together. It was the perfect excuse to stop running and catch my breath. And then lose it again in a different way. Adopting this morning ritual made me feel even closer to the inside of Byron Bay. And I reckon I must have begun to look like a local too because a couple of times I was asked for directions. This pleased me no end, but I also realised it was probably time to brush my hair.

During those last two weeks in Byron, it also became a habit for me and my forever friend to do a mandatory lap of the Main Beach Car Park before visiting the grocery store or going to the beach. Or carrying out any other down-town errand, for that matter. And I was reminded of the first time I went to New York and rode through East Harlem in a taxi from La Guardia airport to Manhattan. It’s finding out the mythical place that has previously existed only on TV or in films, is real. It lives and breathes.

Main Beach Car Park really is just a beach car park but each time we visited, I became more and more captivated. Surfers smudge white zinc across their noses and the hard-core plaster it all over their faces and necks so that they look like greasy, beach-ready, ghosts. And just like in the films, they have wild, sun-bleached or dread-locked hair and, despite the slip-slop-slapping of sunscreen (and the zinc), they have very pronounced tan lines. I know this because I saw many a bare bum in the changing area that is just beside your car in the Main Beach Car Park.

On Valentine’s Day there was a huge swell as a result of an offshore cyclone and the excitement around town was palpable. Even amongst the non-surfers. Both the car park and the green over-looking Main Beach were packed. Bosses told their workers to down tools and get to the beach. Then followed on themselves. That day, it seemed everyone in town had knocked off early. And the closer we got to Main Beach Car Park, the more people we saw running with surfboards. Either held flat on their heads or under their arms. Surfers can hustle. There were cyclist-surfers too, in board-shorts or bikinis, also with surfboards under their arms or cleverly hooked onto their bikes. When surf’s up, you need to get there and get there quickly. And I can’t really explain it, but whenever I see someone running with a surfboard, I get the same feeling I get when I see a butterfly or a sand-perch. It’s not unusual or profound but it makes me deep-down smile. And so, in spite of myself, it feels appropriate to say, Main Beach Car Park has a vibe. It really has become one of my favourite places in the world and will always have a special place in my heart. It’s heaps good and I love it.

As my forever friend drove me out of Byron on Monday morning, it rained. A drizzly curtain of rain that reminded us both of London. My excitement as I headed towards my next adventure was dampened by the sadness of leaving and the weather felt appropriate. On our way out, we drove to the Main Beach Car Park, bought a coffee each, parked up, and sat a while. And waited for a dolphin that didn’t arrive.

This morning I’ve woken up in Sydney. I’m staying at the beautiful home of a forever family friend and my bedroom window overlooks the Anzac Bridge. It’s quite the opposite of Byron Bay, but is certainly and equally breath-taking. After breakfast, I’m going to take a walk to Circular Quay to meet that oh-so-close-by child of mine. Together, we’re going to work out what our next adventures might look like. He’s talking about going home to London soon. Which makes my heart swell. As for me, I’m flying to New Zealand on Sunday but still haven’t worked out where my journey will lead from there. And I need to decide. Arriving in a country without arrangements for an exit is just not something immigration control will allow.