Mohammed Ali’s shorts

Today we leave the Tweed Valley.  Boo-hoo.  

We rolled down the Tweed Valley to the Pacific Highway.  The former was a fairly narrow and twisty road but with some scenicity.  The latter was 4-lane so who cares?  A low point was an idiot with Queensland plates driving in the outside lane at 95kph (in a 110kph zone).  Three people – including me - passed this goose on the inside and then when the speed limit dropped to 100 he sped up to about 130 and passed everyone.   Either:

• he was one of nature’s mistakes; or 
• he been driving non-stop from Cairns and was asleep; or
• he had bought some stuff in Nimbin and not read the fine print.

As we drove in to Byron Bay (the most Easterly point of Australia) it was surprising to see how much retail action was happening on the sidewalk.  The town seemed to be one big garage sale! It reminded me a bit of the Haile Selaisse boutiques along the eponymous street in the Msasani area of Dar es Salaam!  (Come to think of it, the vegetation was also similar: the suntans not so dark her here!)

We got to the next accommodation about noon, which was a bit of a shock to Cynthia (the owner) as I had suggested we wouldn’t get there until 3.  Thus the place had not been cleaned yet.  We sorted something out while Tam checked out Cynthia's tiny and affectionate Papillion.  She also checked out the cleaner’s somewhat larger dog who indicated a need to establish a pecking order: this debate – likely to be enthusiastically developed on both sides - was smartly ceased by spoilsport humans.

We took ourselves off to Tallow Beach which is quite close to the house.  It was a very nice walk on a bike path through the National Park.  It was fortuitous that it passes the settling ponds for the town sewage works.  Not a bad collection of waterbirds.  Also my first interesting (ie photographable) butterfly for the trip: after much searching of my field guide this turned out to be a Swamp Tiger.

 The bike path was well patronised by cyclists and dog walkers.  I suspect Tammie has never met so many other pooches in a day before: some of them were in packs of 4 (not to be confused with a pack of 3) but all was very sociable.

After a stroll along a very good beach (quite a few people, nearly all with dogs of one sort or another) we returned pausing to chat with a Landcare volunteer who was painting glyphosate on Morning Glory.  He explained that it was real monster to get rid of, with Bitou Bush being more widespread but very easy to kill. 

We then headed for a Woolies which we had noticed (to my surprise as it wasn’t listed in the Phone Directory for this town).  Frances went in and on emerging rated it as a very good supermarket.

Back at the ranch the excitement was a pair of Brush Turkeys wandering about on some vacant land next to the villa.  One of these ran past where we sitting on a deck and nearly causing the small dog to do herself a mischief.

As the time for the evening repast approached Frances reminded me that I had said I wanted fish and chips for tea.  So when was I going to get them?  Right now was the answer!  This involved driving the length of the main drag of Byron Bay to find the chippery I had noted on the way in.  I developed some trepidation about this since getting a park seemed to involve myself in the one way system and it being after dark the chances of finding my way out were somewhat low.  At least I’d have some fish and chips to eat if I got seriously lost! The chip-shop was quite small and had two interesting items of décor: a map covered with pins (presumably the origins of the customers) and a framed picture of The Greatest alongside a pair of Everlast shorts.  On looking closely The Man had signed the shorts just above the crotch): now that is what I call a souvenir!

 I found my way back home and can report the meal was delicious: barramundi is yum.