You shall have your Babychino
I suppose a southerly wind in Australia is the equivalent of a northerly wind in the UK. That's what was blowing today and it felt like it. We spent the day walking in it, setting off once the rain had abated. If the forecast is at all accurate, then we shall have a taste of temperatures into the 30s over the weekend. One weekend of hot weather in an entire month is not what we anticipated. Much of what we brought on this trip just stares back defiantly at us from our suitcases. Still, we have spent the last few years cycling for weeks on end in what ever the weather felt like doing so we're reasonably resilient.
Today was a no car day. Always a winner with Kate. There was an obvious twelve kilometre walk to be done. It took us to the easterly most point of mainland Australia. We started by walking the few hundred yards to the beach, then along the beach for a mile or so during which time we saw one other person.
Once we had arrived at the bit of Australia that sticks out to the east more than any other bit, we joined a well-trod path along with like-minded tourists. Where you find many tourists, you find a coffee shop.
It strikes me that the Australians are as daft over their pets as the British are. As we sat waiting for our coffee, a lady a table down from us was saying to her pooch, "Never mind, you shall have your Babychino soon" is this some concoction which barristers have conjured up to make dogs feel included or are dogs now craving a caffeine fix as well as their humans? Whatever the answer is, it's worrying.
As we climbed up the steps that rose to the top of the cliff, the rain did it's thing again. Many people cowered under trees. Many got very wet. We are British, so we donned our raincoats and continued wearing them, and stoical expressions.
The top of the path revealed a lighthouse and a sign saying most easterly point of Australia. The very spot which marked the most easterly point was actually marked by a puddle. In my determination to reach the most easterly point, I suspended myself above it. Why? Why are the most easterly and southerly points so important to me? We have done both on this holiday.
We continued along a path which deteriorated and did much upping and downing but eventually delivered us back to civilisation. On the way, we spotted several more 'turkeys who live on the hill' Then a notice along the path informed us that they are 'bush turkeys'. So they really are a thing then. Not escapees from a nearby farm.
On arriving at Byron Bay, we needed something to eat. We walked past a burger bar and thought, no way. We then spent the next 40 minutes traipsing around and concluded that what we'd really like was a burger. We retraced our steps. We were hoping to walk in and order burgers. But no. That's for old people. In Byron Bay, you sit down and order it from your table via a QR code. By the time we had sorted that, they were probably close to closing for the day. After much blood, sweat and tears, success. The app told us we would be enjoying them in eight minutes time. And enjoy them in eight minutes time, we did. They were superb. And the chips, covered in rosemary and an unhealthy amount of salt were the best we have ever eaten.
Walking through Byron Bay, we became aware of how many electric bikes there are here. I'm not talking about the electric bikes we tend to see at home. These are powerful. They have big fat tyres and a saddle which you can fit two or, at a push, three people on. They travel at over 30mph without the need to pedal. Small children, as well as adults, ride them helter skelter through the streets on the road or the pavement, whichever is offering least resistance at the time. I know electric bikes have their uses but I wonder what sort of affect these contraptions will have on society generally? Serious accidents. An increasingly unfit young generation. Yet more thirst for electricity. Yet more heavy metals demand for the batteries. I'm sure I could go on. But.
After walking back 'home' we went down to the sea just down the track for a final look at it. What is so arresting about the sea? It just crashes around. Night and day. And yet something draws you to it. When you sit by yourselves on a vast beach, foam and spray being whipped up by the wind and pounding waves, it's surprisingly easy to just put life on hold for a while and enjoy the nowness.
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