First Week of Freedom (Noosa)

Our day of exodus finally arrived, and on cue a torrential downpour worthy of Noah accompanied it. Terrible traffic had me worried we would miss our flight, yet we escaped Sydney and arrived in Noosa to sun bleached skies.

Damn near had a hernia lugging our bags and my surfboards up and down the hill into Hastings Street (the main thoroughfare of Noosa). V and I had taken the local SunBus instead of a shuttle from the Maroochydore Airport, saving an outstanding $52, yet giving us both a nice little work out in the process. (If you plan on traveling for 6 months, it is all about being thrifty, isn’t it?)

After settling into our digs, we took a stroll through Hastings Street. I was reminded me of a tropical Manly, full of a curious mix of douche bags with too much money and dreadlocked backpackers with tacky tribal tattoos. Prices were actually more expensive than Sydney, never a good sign. We decided to have lunch at the Noosa Surf Club, overlooking the machine like waves of First Point. The view was great, the food was average, and that concludes our culinary journey of Noosa. We had a full kitchen and a barbie, and in the interest of saving money we were cooking machines, making pastas, papas con carne and grilling up pork chops.

It was obvious from the beginning that the week in Noosa would have a certain yin and yang aspect to it. The yin was that the points of Noosa fired all week long, a real rarity (I am told). The yang was that the sun disappeared after our first day, refusing to appear until the day we left. Because of the storm perfect waves were on constant offer, but because of the storm little beach bunny Veronica only made it to the eroding beaches 2 times. Yet, despite the lack of rays, Veronica channeled her free -time into becoming a running deity.

While Veronica got Zen-like on the road, I had 6 days of absolute hair pulling, unbelievably frustrating surf sessions. Nothing can tear the edges of sanity quicker than watching perfect waves constantly roll through, yet every single time you take off on a wave either someone drops in on you or you get snaked by a 15 year old. It is my semi-professional diagnosis that surfing the points of Noosa could drive a sane man absolutely bat-shit crazy.

Before you start feeling a bit sad for me, know that on my 7th and final session out at Granite Bay, I finally scored some fun waves. Waves where I did not get dropped in on, or snaked, or given stink eye for being out in the water. Hallelujah for that last session!

Our last night we took the River Sunset Cruise, and even though it was grey and cloudy, it was a delightful little tour. The most fascinating part of it all was the Captain’s commentary about the prices of all the waterfront property. Who knew property overlooking a dirty brown river could fetch $10 million dollars and over? Only in Australia, eh mate.

In summation, we had a good time in Noosa, but we are still bigger fans of Byron Bay. Perhaps it is because we are not ‘wealthy style cats’, which according to Lonely Planet are the main inhabitants of Noosa. Bummer dude.