Gold Rush

Byron Bay was nice, but in the end the “alternative” lifestyle (read: washed-up-65-year-old-hippie culture) just wasn’t for us….too many acupuncturists and Reiki masters soliciting their services around town. So we high-tailed it for the Australian promised land of sun, sand and surf: the Gold Coast. This is the EPICENTRE of surfing in Oz, ground zero for all things shred-related. That means good waves, dude, but it also means big crowds, bro. In spite of the throngs of backpackers and domestic vacationers along the majority of this coastline – not to mention the hundreds of surfers vying for every wave, Elise and I have managed to carve out a comfortable little rut for ourselves in the small town of Coolangatta. A typical day starts with a quick brekkie and a surf at 6 am followed by an early brunch at around 9 am. Soon thereafter the focus turns to lunch and which leftovers from the night before are suitable to be barbecued (the answer is invariably ‘all of them’). Then we sit around and read and sweat our asses off and sip coffee/tea until the evening comes and it’s time for another surf. The night usually wraps up with an epic dinner on the BBQ (often involving kangaroo meat) followed by a nightcap and lights out at the ripe old hour of 10 pm. It’s a tough life.

-G

Famous surf break at Duranbah ("D-bah")

A rare uncrowded period for me (only because there are no waves!) with the town of Surfers' Paradise in the background. For the record, the town is not paradisaical at all and it has little to do with surfing.

Home sweet home. Kirra Tourist Park.