Bellingen, the place to chillax

Bellingen was a small town of about 3000 people off of the main Eastern Coast drag - thus not many people go there. There was only one hostel, a YHA, and I'd only heard of this place through a receptionist in Newcastle! It turned out to be a total change from the more frenzied, activity focused places I'd been (and am going to).

Set into the hillside on the very outskirts of 'Bello', the first sign I got was of the common room/area, which was set over a view of rolling grassy hills, cows, a river and swooshing trees. The actual common room was cool, too - it had a ping pong table! Plus a cat called "Puss Puss", a guitar and cool people. Thats the best thing about smaller hostels - they're always so much more sociable!

That night I witnessed a few 1000 fruitbats fly out of their roosting trees. Quite a sight at sunset, though no pictures came out. The noise they make! Blimey, you'd be forgiven for thinking they were all in pain!

Went to a pub across the road from the hostel to see a covers band, 'Groove Robbers' (!!), play an array of very old skool music quite well, all with an impeccible gay 70's/80's rock icon's image. With the vast majority of the atendees there being above the 40 mark, it was interesting to see how rude they think they can be! Pushing to the front, spilling drinks (without even looking sorry) and generally being very un-British and uncouth; are the modern day rock lovers a more polite bunch? Hmmm...

The following day I woke up bright and early with no plans whatsoever, which is a refreshing thing to do. Decided over some brekkie (egg from the chooks in the garden n toast) to go tubing down the river and to the rope swing, some 3m above the river.

I don't think I've ever done a rope swing before, but seeing water below you that you don't know where the bottom is is quite a good buzz! One of the girls I was with nearly backed out too late and came within a foot of hitting the river bank again on the swing back. Turns out that the river must have been at least 3 metres deep, because none of us felt the bottom! Even when you torpedoed it down.

After getting thoroughly cold and wet, we hopped in some tractor tyre innertubes and started serenely floating down the river. But look out! Rapids ahead!! With various sticks and ominous looking objects poking out of the water or just below, 110% of my tubing skills were used.

Floating gently down the river after that is a brillant experience, though for somereason I was designated the least inflated tube (despite me being the heaviest) and the one with a passion for instability. After drying off and watching some local kids jump off a ramp into the river on a bike, Alex ze German, Leah the Essex girl and I retired for a cup of tea.

Wandering around the town during the afternoon, I decided that Bellingen was the place to grow up!! Its small, attractive and the sort of place that everyone knows everyone.

The last night was a strange one - there was only 3 paying customers in the Hostel - me, an Australian motorbike adventurer called Reuben and a Japanese guy called Moto who couldn't speak much english. A few times there was absolutely no understanding in anyway I said something, resulting in an awkward moment where we were just blankly staring at each other.

A mighty walk followed on the next day, up to the top of a hill that overlooks the town. Half way up the 45 degree incline, I heard tones of bongo - upon reaching the top was a bearded fellow looking out over the valley with the instrument. Nice and spirtitual or just fun! He was sitting on a great big 4x4, which sort of damaged the hippy back to nature idea.

After taking in the scene, I walked the longer, more gentle decline back to town, seeing huge 20m Eucalyptus trees that shot straight up to the canopy like a massive natural barcode.

Getting back, I embarked on the free shuttle bus to catch my Greyhound to the backpacker Mecca of Byron Bay...