An Unexpected Festival in Billengen

The journey northwards from Dungog took us through more beautiful mountainous country and then past stunning coves and beaches as we started heading up the coast. We stayed in a caravan park at Nambucca Heads where we took full advantage of the bouncy-castle and urgently required washing facilities, and took in some amazing sites of pristine beaches and bright blue and white surf.

The next significant stop on our route was the sleepy hippie town of Billengen, a little way inland and a few hours south of Byron Bay. The place had been recommended to us by one of the first Australians we had spoken to – a trucker we met on our first day in Sydney – and was reputedly an unspoilt, tranquil little township that had sprung up to serve the community of hippies that had bought land in the surrounding area in the 60s and 70s to escape from pressures of society and city life. It sounded like an idyllic lifestyle, living a free and heedless life subsisting from the land that was bought at a bargain price, but in reality most of these people now worked hard to provide for their families. Until the weekend came around!

As we neared the village, we found out that there was a festival occurring in Billengen, and that for a couple of days the sleepy hamlet would become an entertainment hub for all the nearby communities. People had come from two and three hours away, and everyone seemed to be out for as long as the party would last! Not quite the relaxing break we expected – but never being one to turn down a party, we soldiered on.

Walking down the high street the sounds of music poured from every doorway, street corner and patch of empty grass in the village square. Saxophonists, guitarists, singers, digeridooers (?) and many more were out and having a good time in the sun. The first outstanding act was a pair of singers, one of whom was a keyboardist, who called themselves The Wizard and Oz. 'The Wizard' was the keyboardist – a real virtuoso with a huge white beard and an ability to play incredibly complex jazz melodies with his eyes closed and his head back, lost in his own world of musical ecstasy. They played under a huge fig tree off the high street and they had every onlooker's undivided attention!

The town has one bar, but luckily it's a good one! With several rooms, food served in huge portions, lots of outside space and a big enough stage for some more impressive acts to play on. And so after thoroughly investigating the pub, we left to merrily wander the town looking for a musical end to the evening. We heard a band warming up in a café on the main street – Noam and the Lounge Lovers (a 'lounge' being an Australian term for a sofa) who were an interesting lounge-jazz act playing in a very comfortable and cosy looking café. The only trouble was that the evening's entertainment included dinner. So we grudgingly (ha ha) decided to have a second evening meal and settled in for some great tucker and tunes.

The food was great, spicy Lebanese style cooking, and the bring-your-own booze policy suited us too, as a tasty drop to drink is something we never allow ourselves to run low on! Towards the end of the meal though, after enjoying the music and food to the best we could manage, a group came in who changed the atmosphere completely. Very obviously well into their evening of entertainment, half a dozen women with big smiles and brightly coloured ponchos took over our end of the restaurant, and were quick to strike up conversations with us and assimilate us into their group. It wasn't until we were all hurtling down the cobbled streets to who-knows-where on a horse and cart that we found out their names and discovered that they were hippies from all over the surrounding area who had got together to party over the weekend, exchange cookie recipes, and escape their husbands and children. They had mostly moved to the countryside in the '70s and bought up cheap land to quietly subsist on where they had made lives for themselves in the most beautiful of settings. One even remarked on one of her grown-up sons returning to their idyllic retreat in the mountains where he had grown up, and fitting their home with four much needed walls – though the family had quite happily lived with just a roof suspended in the trees for the last seventeen years!

They all had wonderful stories, lived in places that sounded fantastically picturesque, and had such beautiful personalities. As the night progressed the dancing continued and became more and more amusing to watch. The little sleepy town had become alive with choruses of 'far out' from the hippies, scat and bebop coming from the stages and perplexed remarks from anyone who saw the dancing cross-dresser and were a little unsure exactly what kind of restaurant they had walked in to. It was a brilliant night!

And the next day was just as good. Jazz by the river. Blankets, hippies, and hampers. Jeff Lang particularly stood out amongst the musicians – a slide and rock 'n' roll guitarist who had written songs with people like Chris Whitely – so we decided on seeing him perform again in the evening. In the meantime, there were balloon models to be learnt (Cookie The Clown taught me how to make an great crocodile in return for my kangaroo), plenty of food to be enjoyed, and lots of home-made Anzac biscuits from our new friends to fill up any holes and keep us smiling.

We left with so many new friends that have insisted we visit them in the next few weeks I don't think we're going to be able to get round them all – but I've got a feeling they'll find a way of arranging it so there will be a bit of a get-together when we come back down the coast, and I certainly don't want to miss another opportunity to hang out with these beautiful people.