What’s behind the magic of Byron Bay?
I stepped off the bus onto the sun drenched pavement of the Visitor’s Centre parking lot on January 2nd, 2019. I was back for my second visit in February. And in April, I was flying across the ocean for my third trip in four months.

Thinking back, I didn’t do anything that would be considered particularly memorable. I’ve walked to the lighthouse more than half a dozen times, four of those being in the span of four days with four different people that I’d known for less than a day. I’ve surfed and wiped out on the perfect breaks of Belongil Beach with people that spontaneously became friends. I’ve danced on tabletops at Cheeky Monkeys with girls that made stupid decisions seem irresistible. A typical beach vacation checklist, except with none of the predictability.

Byron Bay Lighthouse

Goddamn Byron Bay.

The name alone incites a storm of emotions and memories for me, but I have just as much trouble explaining why as my friend did when she recommended it to me. And perhaps that’s why it draws you back, because you can’t quite decide why you love the place or why it always seems like there’s still more to do no matter how many days you laze away upon its pristine shores.

The native Arakwal people originally used “Cavanbah” (Byron’s original name) as a meeting place, believing that the obsidian bedrock upon which it sat held healing properties. By the 1960s, Byron was a sleepy Australian coastal town like any other. Eventually, word of mouth about the pristine surf breaks spread and drew in the surfers. And with them, the artists, the musicians, and the hippies.

Today, Byron is an iconic rite of passage for backpackers plodding along on the classic route up the Australian coast. They arrive in droves, drawn in by the promises of discovery and adventure from those who came before. But despite all its fame and inevitable commercialization, Byron still holds on tight to its free spirited, earth loving roots.

And that is what sets it apart.

I’m not a spiritual or religious person, and have never aspired or pretended to be; I can count the number of times I’ve been to church on my fingers. But there is something in the air here, a something that makes people feel more free, more at peace, and more open minded. It’s a community that projects a collective sense of belonging, despite being largely comprised of transients and travelers passing through. The melting pot of varying cultures and nationalities comes together and meshes in a way that just doesn’t seem to happen anywhere else, and you instinctively want to know more.

For the average visitor who’s used to a more traditional lifestyle, Byron’s alternative bohemien mindset is everything you didn’t know you wanted. It doesn’t just show you something that you yearn to be a part of; it gives you the opportunity to explore it.

Pretending to not be completely incompetent, Belongil Beach

Back home, days are dictated by schedule. If it’s not school it’s work. If it’s not exams it’s projects. If it’s not a diploma, it’s a promotion. If it’s not your friendships, it’s your relationships. On most days, your attention and energy is constantly being pulled in multiple directions with a constant baseline level of stress that’s accepted as normal. For me, much of those days are spent tracking the stock market, wondering if I’m being ambitious enough with my career, and trying not to think about how fast life seems to be passing by.

In Byron, the biggest surprise on a typical day is where the time went as you meandered about under the idyllic Australian sun. The town has a habit of pulling apart a person’s inhibitions and replacing them with a sense of freedom and desire to just enjoy the moment. Rich or poor, local or foreigner, people here carry themselves in a way that makes you question why you spend so much time stressing over things that suddenly don’t seem important. As much as we don’t want to admit it, most of our decisions are influenced to some degree by the society and people around us. Even when we travel to “see what else is out there”, what we do is often influenced by the preferences of whoever we’re traveling with because the idea traveling alone is often painted as a bit too risky. As a result, few ever end up living the lives and becoming the people they truly want to be because of a subconscious desire to satisfy the expectations of others. But somehow, that constant sense of pressure and obligation doesn’t feel important here; choices are made without the constant process of questioning what others expect of us. People aren’t going through the motions and checking off a list of things they should do, but rather spending time on whatever strikes their fancy.

Main Beach, Byron Bay

As I’ve travelled more and more in recent years, I noticed that my main takeaways from a trip weren’t really about where I went, but rather who I met and spent time with when I was there. The people I shared experiences, formed friendships, and created memories with are the ones that shaped my impression of a place more so than anything else.

From my time in Byron, I remember fighting the midnight waves as I went skinny dipping for the first time on Main Beach with a stunning Danish girl under the brightest stars I’ve ever seen. I remember surfing with a German guy I met at the hostel and listening to what growing up in Europe is like. I remember listening to the life story of an old lobster fisherman who insisted on buying me drinks once he realized we had the same name. But most importantly, I remember a sense of infinite content. I remember seeing, for the first time, how many possibilities there were when I didn’t waste time questioning how each choice would be judged. Everyone’s experience is different, but having wandered through more Australian beach towns than I can remember, nowhere evokes the same dreamy response in so many people than the mere mention of Byron Bay.

Maybe it’s the surfers weaving and winding their way through the swells of the Pass. Maybe it’s the stream of backpackers, sitting in circles on the beach, sharing stories and laughing into the night; they might have nothing of life figured out yet and barely enough money for a case of goon and some pasta noodles to boil, but looking at them you wouldn’t be able to tell that they wanted for a thing. Whatever the case, whatever their station in life, people here find a way to live without letting fears of the future dominate their decisions in the present. Somehow, this cluster of farmers markets, new age healing shops, and bohemian clothiers comes together to create a playground where people feel the urge to stop rushing through life.

You might not relate. You might not understand. You might not even believe it, but perhaps you want to embrace it. To reach out and, just for once, worry about nothing but living in the moment without a care in the world. Maybe Byron’s rise to international renown has somewhat buried its free spirited roots. But if you look out for it, maybe, just maybe, you’ll stumble upon some of the magic that everyone struggles to explain.
['Bruce N']
['Travel', 'Australia', 'Backpacking']