The Gold Coast

Australians, T. said, have it all figured out. I know what she means. You can’t go far in this country without a national park or a picnic area, and even the smallest town has public toilets conveniently located for visitors. Readers of this blog know that loos are a theme, but the more countries one visits, the more one appreciates cleanliness, supplies, and convenience. Nowhere can these be taken for granted more than Australia.

Not only that, but there are free swimming beaches (free!) and usually barbecues, too. By which I mean grills that are free for anyone to use, and they, too, are kept clean. How does this work? How are things made available freely, as if we were adults, and then not trashed for the next person?

About ten years ago I was on a wine tour in the Niagara region of Ontario. It was a cold day and there was snow on the ground. Two of my friends on the tour were a couple from South Australia, and I was interested in hearing about their part of the world, as that same day, I’d gotten an e-mail from T. who was traveling in Australia. We only knew each other online but she sent me a sunburnt picture of herself at the easternmost point of the Australian continent.

Who knew that we would end up here together, in Byron Bay? It’s a cool place to hang out. The beach is especially beautiful, because there are rules against developers building there, unless a house already exists. Most of the houses were built by hippies, and they (or at least their vibe) are still here. In a Mexican cantina where we had lunch, there was nonstop ’60s music playing.

Byron Bay from the lighthouse

I mentioned our friends Kim and Garry in the last post. Through their kindness we had a home in New South Wales. I say New South Wales because technically, they live on the N.S.W. side of the state line on the Gold Coast, and the places we went on day trips are also in N.S.W. Even though we look right across the street at Queensland from their balcony, it is in a different time zone.

The state of Queensland, like Arizona, has never accepted Daylight Savings Time, and so for the summer half of the year everyone in this area has to check about every appointment: “Queensland time or New South Wales?” There’s even a handy reminder at an art gallery we visited. 

Margaret Olley was a successful Australian artist who was still working into her eighties (she died in 2011). The home and studio in which she worked are recreated at the Margaret Olley Art Centre. There are other treasures at the gallery—it’s free too—but the best are the views out the back.

The Gold Coast has some quirky wildlife. Bush turkeys roam the roads and make no effort to cross quickly, yet I never saw a turkey run over. There is also an occasional water bird, an ibis I think. 

But the real draw here is the surf and the sea. For four days in a row, the waves were so big that the designated swimming areas were closed; only surfers had the sea to themselves. Well, almost. The waves being too high for us to swim even in the natural lagoon, we were standing on the beach watching the surfers, when up popped a dolphin! Then two more after it, then the same dolphins surfacing and diving along the waves, just like the surfers with them. It was a totally unexpected and beautiful moment. You could tell me “This is a bay where dolphins come” or “We just saw some dolphins,” and I could stand there the rest of the day and not see any. Spontaneously seeing these creatures was amazing. They were the most graceful beings in the water.

Some human beings, of course, come closer than others. We saw on the local news that Joel Parkinson was among those surfing in the exceptionally fine conditions. 

The sets of waves sweeping in from Kirra Hill, Coolangatta (on the Queensland side)

The Parkinsons were just some of the great people we got to spend time with, as Kim and Garry kept introducing us to more friends. There seem to be no strangers in an Australian town. You just go along to the Surf Lifesaving Club and meet your mates. If they’re not there, they’re probably swapping tales around their pool. We met some great people on our visit whom we are blessed to know.

And some great dogs. I could write a whole other post about everyone who’s had dogs on this trip (along with cats and the occasional third-party creature). Just in Australia we’ve met or re-met Holly and Hunter the Weimaraners, Willow the Great Dane, Monty the greyhound, and Myra’s Jasper. At the aforementioned pool where we were hearing life-changing stories from our friend of friends Karen, her partner Jason couldn’t get the dog to go on a walk with him. She’s bred to keep track of sheep and as long as we were in the pool, we were her sheep and she had to keep running around it!

As if all this socializing wasn’t enough, Garry and Kim also took us out for a day’s drive inland through some of the towns of New South Wales. As soon as you leave the coast, a whole different country opens up. The rivers and hills are gorgeous, and every town seems to have a “School of Art” in a building dated around the turn of the last century. We stopped in Uki,

Hula hoops for sale, Sunday market

Nimbin,

Where Mardi Gras means something a little bit different

and Bangalow.

Sometimes friends miss each other by days or weeks. We heard from our traveling friends the Lawsons when they were passing through London; unfortunately we were already in Vienna. Then we tried to catch them in Melbourne, but they were on their way to southeast Asia—which we’d just left! Other times we are more fortunate. Kim and Ibon, who split their time between Spain and Australia, met up with us in Sydney, but they were also on the Gold Coast at the same time as we were. More fun with Kailani!

Exercises for our backs, just like Daddys'

Our host Kim was even kind enough to lend us a car while we were in town. This is how we got to Byron Bay and an even more interesting place called King’s Head down the road. There’s a trail in the woods and we walked down to the beach from there. There are no signs or anything, but as we arrived we confirmed that the beach was being treated as clothing optional. 

Well, why not indeed? I have to say it was very refreshing. Given the heat wave, T. said she’d be happy to come back every day just for the pleasure of skinny dipping. Needless to say there are no pictures, so here’s one from the inside of a record jacket, Joni Mitchell’s For the Roses, instead.

We don’t really do bucket lists, but even if I did who needs ziplining? Skinny dipping is free.