Friday afternoon I flew up to the Gold Coast. It was sunny in Melbourne, but by the time we flew into Queensland airspace the sky was dark with huge rain-clouds, lit occasionally by a flash of lightning. On the tarmac we sat for 10 minutes waiting for the worst of it to subside and for the ground-crew to attend to us. My ride was late because of the weather, and when it arrived finally the journey down to Brunswick Heads was through driving rain such as Noah must have experienced. Every moment or two the sky would be lit from horizon to horizon by the flash of lightning, followed soon after by foundation shaking thunder.
I had booked myself into a regular motor inn. I was up for the wedding of an old friend, and we had tentatively arranged to catch up that evening. The rain changed that. Days of torrential rain meant that the ceremony had to be shifted from a park to the reception venue. Caught up in the rain and all the extra work the get-together was aborted.
Even with the rain I was feeling antsy and restless, unwilling to sit in my plain hotel room. I wandered up the road during a break in the weather and had a beer at the local pub. Afterwards I sat by myself in a cool little Indonesian restaurant chatting with the waitress.
On another night when the weather was more friendly I'd have found my way to Byron for a night out - it was Friday after all. The weather dampened those plans, literally. I ended up back in my room while it was still early. I flicked on the TV and had the choice of the royal wedding or some rugby league. I chose rugby. I browsed a magazine before finally watching an SBS movie with the usual full frontal nudity.
It was sunny the next morning. I found my way to the main drag and sat down to an over-priced by delicious brunch. Sitting there the sunshine briefly made way for another brief downpour. I dressed for the occasion back in my room and then made my way to the caravan park, where my lift awaited me.
It had been arranged that I would be driven to the meeting point by my mate's family. I knew from before, though had not seen them for many years. I was greeted like an old friend and made very welcome. I recalled then what a lovely family I thought they were, and felt very comfortable catching up on old times as if we had met many times before.
We drove to Mullumbimby where we hopped on a brightly painted double-decker bus hired for the occasion. We drove up into the low hills and were deposited to be collected by a minibus to take us up the narrow, winding roads to the reception venue.
It was breathtaking. I use that term advisedly, knowing how loosely applied it can be (and recalling the famous Seinfeld episode about the 'breathtaking' baby...). In actual fact my breathing didn't pause, but as did everybody else, I paused to take in the vista.
It somebody's home beneath which on the slope had been built a space to hired out for functions. Perched on the side of a steep hill the outlook was of a thickly vegetated valley and the hills and escarpments rising up beyond it. In the distance one could see the sea, and in between here and there signs of habitation. A thin mist hung about the rocky escarpments, and in one place a thin wisp of water could be discerned as the rain made an impromptu waterfall down the rugged face of the hills. (Thin Red Line was filmed in QLD, north of here I think, but it reminded me of the landscape in that).
Then in the middle of the afternoon a simple, authentic and very Byron Bay wedding ceremony took place. It was lovely. I met the bride for the first time afterwards, and caught up with my mate. Later we ate an all vegetarian menu, there were funny speeches, nice speeches, dancing, singing, lots of drinking and all the rest of it. I had a fine time. The people were all very nice and mostly very interesting.
Next day, feeling a little tired, we went up again for brunch. It was a sunny, warm day. Told we had to bring our own food and craving some meat we bought a couple of barbecued chickens and some bread rolls in town. We were told if we were going to eat that then we better do it outside. Ok-ay.
Furthermore a few of us were enrolled to scrub ash stains from the marble pavers left by the burning braziers the previous night. What fun! For about 45 minutes dressed in my going home clobber I scrubbed at these dark marks with an old broom while someone wielded a gurney and another dripped bleach on the tiles.
Ultimately I headed home a little weary, sweaty, and a tad burned. My lift was a voluble and very interesting guy looking forward to touring the States with Paul Oakenfeld as his warm up DJ. I listened making the odd sensible comment, but otherwise slowly blending into the car upholstery. I'd had an interesting weekend, had caught up with an old friend at an important time for him, had met some interesting people, had got away from my usual surroundings and enjoyed it, but now was looking forward to home.
Funnily enough it was raining when I touched down. I drove home through the rain and turning into my street thought how it was to be here. For all the outstanding beauty of Byron and surrounds, the attitude and artistic expression, Melbourne is still very much home.
