Flight was fine, coach ride as fine, got all our luggage. Zero stress. Nice change. No stressed out arguing as is so often the case when I travel. On the way through town, Tanja and I were pointing out landmarks from our last trip here like little kids. Got to the Inn, and the room is well laid out and has the Wireless, and everything. It may not be as rustic or Ewok-like as the tree house, but it has the benefit of a working kitchen and an indoor bathroom.
Headed into town. After a fruitless attempt to find the Byron Beach Cafe (turns out, according to Google Maps, it's ACTUALLY on the beach, not just near it) we went to Fishheads for lunch. Starter: Tanja - 6 oysters with wasabi, Me - salt and pepper bugs with chilli jam. Bloody great. Main course, seafood platter: Half a lobster, two scallops, bunch of Moroccan mussels, bunch of prawns, more bugs, a crab, smoked salmon, grilled salmon cutlet, chips, aioli, and a few lettuce leaves, crying in the corner because they're all alone. We enjoyed this with a bottle of Clare Valley Riesling, whose near-unpleasant-initial taste of lime juice changed completely once it got in with the seafood.
Got supplies (cheese, crackers, pineapple, kiwis, juice, milk, cereal, beer) and headed back to the room. Now, I don't know if it was the pressure dropping or the rising humidity, or the carrying of the bags, or the change of going from humid cool windy outside to stuffy inside, but I developed a REALLY bad headache. It was like crackling static electricity going from my left temple, down around my eye, around my jaw and into my neck on the left side. I took some painkillers and had a lie-down while Tanja read up on local history.
Later I felt better and, as it had rained and was just barely drizzling, Tanja suggested a walk along the mostly deserted beach. We walked along a sandbar, and marveled at how far the ocean recedes during low tide. We walked along for a little bit, then it started to rain harder. And harder. Admitting defeat, we decided to go back up the brick path we had taken down to the beach.
Except we couldn’t find it. After going back and forth in the now-driving rain, we ended up seeing two surfers run out of the woods at a point not from us. It wasn’t our path, but it was a path and that was all that mattered. We go up…and discover we’ve managed to misplace our path so badly that it was a ten-minute walk to get back TO our path. Beaches. They’re like gnarly ground.
We warmed up at the room with a James Squire Pepperberry Winter Ale and a Knappstein Reserve Lager. We watched the first two episodes of Spaced, but sadly, didn’t like it much. So now we’re watching Star Trek. Good night, blog.
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