Byron to Noosa

Byron Bay is the surf town to end all surf towns, pure and simple. It's basically one main street where every other storefront sells surfboards or surf clothes or the surf lifestyle. There are pretty much beaches on all sides. And since Byron revolves around surfing, I figured I should give it a go. And so I did. For three straight days I struggled into a damp wetsuit, a rashguard, and picked up my 7-foot long foam surfboard. I had a great time. And also, I suck at surfing. I think it is safe to say that I shouldn't give up my day job to devote my life to surfing, though maybe if I did I would eventually not suck quite so much. I can't get over, though, how absolutely fun it was, easily some of the best fun I've had so far. I can't really explain what it is that appeals to me--it's not just being outside on the beach, listening to the surf crash. Somehow it's trying to find that wave that's going to carry you and the thrill of it actually working, even if only briefly before you somersault backwards off your board and get a mouthful of saltwater.

The hostel I stayed in was, unfortunately, both gungy and sketchy, but I lucked with a group of Canadians in my room, one from S. Ont., and two from Prince Rupert. We ended up going out and, like all good backpackers, danced on the tables at Cheeky Monkeys--it's seems it's one of those "must do" kinda things.

From Byron I made my way up to the Gold Coast to spend the weekend with my cousin Rupert and his family. It was great to see them all, as well as to finally meet Shannon and Wil. I also had the treat of sleeping in a real bed in a room without half a dozen strangers snoring, and tossing about. Pure bliss!

Leaving the "Goldie" I took the bus up further to Noosa Heads, which, I will confess, is nothing special. The town is a very expensive seaside resort with a halfway pretty beach and lots of overpriced shops. I only really spent an afternoon there, as my main stop was in the Great Sandy National Park and the Gagaju Bush Camp, where I was signed up to do a "canoe safari" along the Noosa river. Overall it was nice, but I hesitate to use any stronger an adjective. Mostly, I think it was the people in the same group as me, a bunch of very loud Brits who were mostly rude and intolerant, and I had nothing in common with them. I think I was the only person in the group who'd ever actually been in a canoe before or who had any idea how to paddle, though it's not something I'd ever claim to be particularly good at. But still, I managed to keep my canoe of two whiny girls from Birmingham on course. It also b0thered me that the only "instruction" given to a bunch of people who'd never been in canoes before consisted of a 3 1/2 minute demonstration on how to paddle, then we were sent off by ourselves. One canoe full of girls was totally clueless, and while I tried to give them a few pointers, it should have been the camp that did that.

From there, northwards! Hervey Bay! Fraser Island!