Exploring Byron Bay

If you have ever found yourself standing in a queue for a twenty-pound avocado toast while wearing a linen shirt you can't really afford, you have probably already experienced the spiritual pull of Byron Bay. This sun-drenched corner of New South Wales is Australia's unofficial headquarters for barefoot luxury, surf culture, and the kind of aggressive wellness that makes you feel guilty for enjoying a cheeky pint of lager.

The first thing any self-respecting visitor does is the pilgrimage to the Cape Byron Lighthouse. It is the most easterly point of the Australian mainland, which means you can technically claim to be the first person in the country to see the sun if you manage to haul yourself out of bed by 5 am. The walk up from Main Beach is spectacular, winding through lush coastal rainforest where the air smells like salt and expensive sunscreen. If you are lucky, you will spot pods of dolphins surfing the waves below. If you are very lucky, or perhaps just hallucinating from the humidity, you might see a humpback whale breaching during the winter migration. Standing at the top, looking out over the infinite blue of the Pacific, it is impossible not to feel a bit poetic. At least until you realise you have to walk all the way back down.

For those who find the main town a bit too bustling, Wategos Beach is the place to be. It is nestled just beneath the lighthouse and feels like a billionaires backyard that someone forgot to lock. The water is turquoise, the sand is powdery, and the longboarders glide across the waves with a grace that makes my own attempts at surfing look like a panicked octopus falling off a cupboard. I once tried to look "local" here by carrying a surfboard I clearly didn't know how to use, only to be out-cooled by a toddler who could actually hang ten.

If the salt water starts to make your skin feel like a dried apricot, head into the hinterland. A short drive takes you to The Farm, a working plot of land where you can wander among highland cattle and rows of organic kale. It is the peak Byron experience: eating a meal where the ingredients were probably harvested about ten minutes before they hit your plate. There is something deeply satisfying about looking a cow in the eye while tucking into a gourmet sourdough sandwich, though the cow usually looks like it knows something about your life choices that you don't.

Shopping in Byron is an exercise in restraint. The town is packed with boutiques selling hand-poured candles and "vibrationally charged" crystals. If you happen to be there on a Thursday, the Farmers Market is a must. It is a kaleidoscope of local characters, from weathered surfers buying organic honey to nomadic artists selling hats made of grass. It’s the best place to soak up the real atmosphere of the town, away from the influencer cameras on the main drag.

By the time the sun starts to dip, the only logical place to be is The Rails, a legendary pub built right on the old railway tracks. It is noisy, unpretentious, and serves a cold beer that tastes like heaven after a day in the heat. As the live music starts and the locals begin to drift in, you realise that despite the hype and the high prices, Byron still has a soul. It is a place that tells you to slow down, breathe in the eucalyptus, and remember that life is generally better when you aren't wearing shoes.