Over the Byron Rainbow
DAY: 10
LOCATION: Byron Bay
I rose at 6am to join Jenny for a hike. Sam opted out due to cramps, and India and Alex hadn’t come home until 3, so it was just the two of us. Sure, it was early, but this was one of the reasons I’d chosen Airbnb private rooms – to have a local show me the ropes.
“We’ll drop off these books at the library, then park near the Cape and take my favorite route,” Jenny explained. “I’m creating an outdoor course, with stops along the way for various exercises. But today we’ll just hike, and maybe do some yoga in my special spot.”
“Sounds wonderful!” I replied, thrilled she used the library. I wasn’t the only book borrower left after all.
In spite of the early hour and grey weather, the cove teemed with surfers and hikers. We managed to find a parking spot, and started up the trailhead. The initial climb winded me slightly, but my health was definitely on the up and up. Yey!
Jenny led the way at a decent clip, telling me about her fascinating past. She’d been a touring musician, lived around the world, been married and divorced, raised her son solo. Now she was in a new phase of her life, as yogic earth mother and proud grandmother.
I was torn between listening to these stories and absorbing the surreal beauty of the bay. The misty clouds gave new meaning to the word *mist*ical. The whole place seemed charged with a special energy.
“Oh my gosh!” Jenny gasped as she turned the corner ahead.
“What?!” I hurried towards her.
A rainbow. But not just any rainbow, a full rainbow, from one pot of gold sand to the other. I wondered if Jenny hadn’t performed some sort of magic, it was too perfect. We laughed in childlike awe.
“You know, I’ve never had a lot of money, but the best things in life really are free,” she said. It didn’t even sound like a cliché. It just sounded like truth.
I could’ve stayed and watched until it shimmered out of existence, but Jenny moved us along. While undeniably stunning, ethereal rainbows were probably fairly standard for Byron. As Sam had said last night, “it never stops being this beautiful.”
We came to Jenny’s secret spot, a planked overhang blocked off by a rail which we easily overcame. Just when you think it can’t get better, you’re doing yoga hundreds of feet above the South Pacific, with zero safety net or worries. Om shanti om.
The trail led us to the Lighthouse, where we practiced handstands and ran into a few of Jenny’s friends. Byron was a small community, where one could celebrate their 60th birthday with a huge bonfire and dozens of soul mates stretching back decades, as Jenny had done a few weeks before.
“I think I need to move here,” I confided. “Like, seriously.”
Our final stop was the ocean. I’d worn my swimsuit in anticipation. Now, stripping off my clothes in the broad daylight, I could see I’d gotten a pretty bad burn from yesterday. I’d only been in the sun an hour, and I’d applied sunscreen, but I’d forgotten my back and around my upper thighs / butt region. Not so divine now, I sighed, and jumped into the healing salt water.
“Oh yeah, that’s a bad one,” India winced at my bright red skin when we got home. “Australia has no ozone, so it’s really easy to get burned. Happens to tourists all the time.” Now I winced – I hated being part of amateur hour. The last time I’d fried my skin this bad I was 16 in Thailand. Hopefully this time it wouldn’t turn purple and develop water blisters.
“Here, use this.” She handed me a bottle of aloe.
“Coffee?” Alex suggested. India and I nodded. I was honestly surprised they were awake, but I guess in my partying days I used to only sleep four or five hours too.
On our walk to the café, the girls divulged the details from the evening. They’d met a group of “babin’ guys” at the bar and gone back to their place for a night cap. One of them had been crushing on India, but he was only 25 and dumb as his rock-hard abs, so that went nowhere. It actually sounded quite fun, not that I missed it. I had enough random drunken make out memories to last a lifetime.
I did, however, miss Levi. I texted him later from the beach, where I spent the rest of the day by myself drowning in sunscreen. Samantha and Jenny were working, and Alex and India had gone to a hippie BBQ a few towns over. I probably could’ve tagged along if I’d asked, but I really wanted to spend time in Byron. I sent Levi a Corona-find-your-beach-type shot.
Him: That looks like perfection!
Me: Almost. Just missing one thing..
Him: I wish I was there too xo.
Although I enjoyed being alone. I didn’t even read a book like I usually did at the beach. I just watched the waves, observed the people, played with the occasional puppy. And the babies! Oh my god, the babies.
Last summer I’d been running on Santa Monica one afternoon when I burst into tears at the sight of a baby in a sun bonnet. She was so innocent, so enthralled with the world, and all I could think about was the coming suffering and destruction she’d face over the next few decades. Now, though, the little Aussie babies warmed my soul. I still believed hard times were ahead for humanity, but I also recognized this moment was all we’ve ever had anyway. Might as well savor it, because babies and puppies are damn cute, and goodness still exists amidst the darkness.
I got back just in time for Jenny’s evening yoga class. It was a small group – me, Alex, India, Sam, a woman from the lighthouse named Fern, and another friend of Jenny’s – but that’s how I liked it.
“So tonight we’ll have a gentle yin class, with a lot of healing poses and really deep stretches,” Jenny announced. “It’ll help us re-center, re-energize, and clear our minds from all the busyness and chatter of the outside world.”
She delivered. Two and a half hours flew by in no time, as I got lost in the long passive poses, listening to the birds singing and paying attention to my breath. I loved having use of my nose again, and feeling good in my body (minus the sunburn). Gone were the days of Power Vinyasa or Bust – yin hit the spot.
By the end of savasana, we had transformed into gooey zen messes, ready to practice our corpse poses in bed. But Jenny threw together a simple healthy meal for Fern and I which we ate on the kitchen floor. Why the floor? Because why not. There was something so familiar about it, laughing cross legged on the tile. Like we’d been friends in a past life, or maybe related. Who knows, maybe we had. This wasn’t Kansas, it was Byron. Anything was possible.
