Yesterday I took a trip to Byron Bay, a beach town about 1.5 hours south of the Gold Coast. Byron used to be known as Hippie Central, but has grown exponentially as a backpackers paradise over the last five years – the hippies have since retreated to the kinder countryside. It still retains a “happy-go-lucky” personality however, littered with surf shops, organic food cafes, massage parlors and droves of wetsuit-clad, long-haired boys (men?) running around barefoot with their boards.

I got there and immediately understood why so many backpackers got trapped there, extending their stays one, two, three weeks longer than planned. I was inundated by people handing out fliers advertising surfing packages, free internet deals, cheap hostel accommodation, and free drinks at local watering holes. Felt sad that I wasn’t staying longer than a day!

I headed down to the beach. Beaches in Australia – take your pick of which coast, because every single one I’ve ever been to has been stunning: Cottesloe Beach around Perth in Western Australia, Bells Beach in Victoria, Mission Beach in Queensland, Surfers Paradise in Queensland, and now Byron Bay in New South Wales – are all fantastic. The sand stretches on forever and the water is actually the color it is in cartoons: blue-green. The waves are spectacular. Even on a cloudy day it was still mesmerizing.

About fifteen minutes later, in search of the famous Cape Byron lighthouse, I found myself pretty much lost in the midst of a private campsite. How the hell did I get here? I wondered. I knew I was heading in the right direction – east – but I didn’t know how to climb through the forest to get to the lighthouse. I saw a guy with curly dark blond hair sitting alone under a cooking shelter.

“Excuse me, do you know how to get to the lighthouse?”

He looked startled, as if awoken from a dream. “Yeah, yeah I do...but if you wait five minutes, I was just thinking about having a wander down there by myself, so we can go together if you’d like.” His Australian drawl was strong.

It was awkward as we made our way down to the beach, but soon we were chatting away like old friends. Jack Burns, my new companion, was camping around Byron for a few months, living out of a tent at night and surfing through the day. He was originally from a small town just outside Newcastle. When he felt like it, he worked as a tree-planter, hitch-hiking from town to town. “Homeless” might be the term you’d use in the United States, but in Australia, he was a free spirit who radiated the term “No Worries.” It was energizing just to be around him – he was full of ideas – though I had a sneaking suspicion that many of his brilliant plans had yet to materialize.

A quick word on the Australian welfare system, also called “the dole.” With such a small population and such high taxes, the Australian government manages to really TAKE CARE of its citizens. Good and bad points to this. I saw a tv news special one night about how a large number of minimum wage jobs slots were all empty because, as one man put it, “No one can beat the government.” Apparently, the bi-monthly payment given out by the government to the jobless actually works out better in the end than having to WORK a minimum-wage job everyday. “Hey, I’m doing fine and I’d rather have no stress in my life than be hassled by a boss,” said one happy-go-lucky man who depended on the dole and nothing else to sustain him. All you had to do was look around Byron Bay and see that many other people had the same attitude! So I guess it’s good to know that the government has your back – UNLIKE the USA – but it’s NOT good to know that people are abusing this luxury.

We walked up endless steps to Captain Cook Lookout and spotted some whales swimming along the coast. Everything was flat and the view from the lookout was panoramic and overwhelming. We climbed up even to Headland Lookout, the “Most Easterly Point in Australia.” The lighthouse was up just a little bit further. At the lighthouse, we sat down on a grassy patch and had two cups of coffee, watching a pair of handgliders swing through the air. Jack asked if he could write in my journal. He took about 20 minutes. When I got home that night, I found that he had written a poem about me.

“Do you want to climb down this mountain off the beaten path?”

“Um, sure.”

Not sure if you could call the journey we made to be off the “beaten path” because THERE WAS NO BEATEN PATH!!! I scaled the side of this treacherous slope covered in trees and plants sometimes reaching waist-high, all while thinking that I was going to plunge to my death. I think I fell about three times. Adrenaline shot through my arteries and veins. When we finally reached sea-level however, I felt exhilarated. I wanted to do it again!

Jack and I walked along the beach in the cloudy, misty late-afternoon light and then made our way back to our original starting point – about an hour away – and watched the sun set. Off in the distance, you could see a group of surfers resting in the calm waters, waiting to catch a “good wave.” They’d been there for a long time. Over by the rocks where we were sitting, though, smaller waves were constantly crashing ashore.

“If it was me, I’d be out here, riding all the little ones,” said Jack.

“Kind of a metaphor for life.” Did I say that out loud? But it was true. My mind was racing to make sense of my statement. So many people spend their lives saving, waiting, putting off things for “later.” Everyone is waiting for the “time to be right” and for debts to be paid off and for obstacles to be out of the way. But when is the time ever truly “right”? And when do you start LIVING and stop waiting for “real life” to begin? I don’t believe in waiting forever. I’d rather ride the little waves and enjoy the present. I mean, yes, I’ll prepare for the future and keep my eye on the peripheral horizon so that I don’t miss that giant squall, but one of the reasons I take chances, including traveling, is because you can really only have an effect on the present. Not the past. Maybe the future. But your best bet is now.

“What do you mean?” Jack looked a bit confused.

I explained to him what I thought and told him finally, “Who knows if the future will REALLY be better? Will I be satisfied and happy when I have my family, the perfect job, that great house on the water with a boat in my backyard?” I questioned, citing all the things I’ve ever said my “dream” future would hold. “It’s good to dream, but there's a lot of truth in something that I've heard before: ‘HAPPINESS IS A JOURNEY, NOT A DESTINATION.”

Jack nodded and smiled in agreement, spitting out the typical Aussie affirmation: “Good on ya!” We walked to the bus station quietly and I said goodbye to my new friend, happy that I had shared beautiful scenery, peaceful walks, and good conversation with such a kind stranger.

~Hope