After an extended stay in Sydney it was a relief to leave the city and hit some back beaches. Our first stop would be Kate’s home town and highly recommended, MacMasters. It was nice not to be following massive road signs off the freeway to the beach, but instead, little street signs hidden by the overgrown forest. To add to the small town feel there was some graffiti by the beach car park that simply read:

“This is not Sydney”

This could have been the locals trying to make ignorant travellers feel uneasy, but did not dissuade us beach bums from bedding down for the night. The morning sun revealed an awesome, secluded and strangely desolate beach. Unfortunately though, the sea was calm, so we headed for the next recommendation.

Seal Rocks has to be the best piece of advice we’ve had yet. Although the road leading to the beach was in terrible condition and nearly vibrated the van to bits. I would imagine the locals have no intention of upgrading the road as it keeps the area quiet and the beach isolated. It was a worthwhile journey though, as the beach was empty and the scenery beautiful. It was an absolute privilege to be in the cool, clear water, surrounded by the National Park. Seal Rocks also had the first point break I had surfed in Oz. The waves were not big, but clean and plentiful. Luckily we also had the place pretty much to ourselves. There was a camp site near by that enticed us in with the thought of a nice shower. We left the van parked right outside and headed straight through the front entrance. Plenty of people were watching us and it was obvious what was going on, but we thought no one would care. The reason no one cared was that the shower block required a key. We had to walk back passed all the campers, and use the public beach showers in full view of everyone. Not a proud moment, but it is part and parcel of being a vano.

The evening saw a welcome change of sleeping situation as Fern, who we had met in Indonesia, invited us to stay in her friends lakeside house. We felt a little guilty crashing her mate Al’s leaving do, but everyone made us feel welcome. They cooked fajitas, provided a garage and mattresses to sleep on and even fed us breakfast! We could have gone for a morning swim, but instead slothed on the sofa with Al and enjoyed the soothing sounds of David Attenborough.

Pushed for time we didn’t stop to check out the beach at Foster, but stopped for lunch in Crescent Head. Another awesome beach, that you are even allowed access to in your car, but again no surf. Instead we had an evening surf in Coffs Harbour. The tide was coming in as we paddled out, but we enjoyed the waves and forgot about it. Only to find that our walk back had been cut off by a newly formed river. Aware of the fading light we jumped on our boards and paddled across, to arrive in a pitch black car park where we showered and got ready. Not that we were going anywhere nice, just to another car park. Evans Head Surf Club was surrounded by trees and provided us with plenty of shade for a good nights sleep and plenty of swell for a good mornings surf.

Evans Head was the last of our recommended beaches, so the next stop we had to decide for ourselves. We had been flirting with the idea of returning our first port of call, Byron Bay. An old guy and his wife stopped to talk to us at Evans Head, and when we told him our possible plans he replied:

“You’ll do alright in Byron Bay! Heaps of young girls there for you. You’ll have a great time lads.”

With that, our minds were made up.

As we were no longer with a group of party animals, it was inevitable that Byron Bay would disappoint second time around. Sure enough, we failed to get any free internet and could not find a good van spot. So with the freedom only a vano knows, we made a midnight decision to fasten down the top and hit the Pacific Highway North.