It is time for Neil and I to leave the Gold Coast and head north to Brisbane from where he will be catching his ongoing flights. We arrive on Saturday night and have been given the recommendation that we head for the Fortitude Valley area of the city.
Upon arrival I can see why! The whole night I was staggered by the parade of legs marching past.
I have seen so many great pins knocking about since I was buying sewing supplies in California!
We dive straight into the action but have a bit of trouble getting into some places due to the licensing requirements of Australia where you need ID to get into most clubs and we sensibly decided to leave the important documents safely locked up in the campervan.
We turn on the charm though and despite our shoes preventing us getting into one place are generally allowed in due to being over twice the drinking age.
We eventually find our spot and then spend most of the evening in a club called The Press Club, whose interior you see here. It was however considerably busier that the picture I found on their website and in particular I will always remember one lady you seemed to have a voice that only dogs could hear who kept screeching in our ears. All good fun and plenty of eye candy whilst we had a beer or ten.
At the end of the night you can imagine my surprise when we stopped for a bite to eat at Pie Face on the way home, and I discovered that the answer to the time honoured question of “Who ate all the pies?” is in fact leggy Queensland females. Go figure!




Ever since my first surf back in North Wales in the early eighties I have always wondered about Burleigh Heads because its name was right under my nose whilst paddling out.

The waves were actually so powerful that in one wipeout my leash actually got ripped off my leg also sending my board careering off towards the rocks at the same time.





Just past Byron Bay we stopped at a quiet stretch of sand known as Belongil Beach, where there seemed to be a degree of doubt about the need for swimwear.
Meanwhile Neil was trying to battle out past the shore break, as you see here. However I must report that he wasn’t in the water that long on this occasion. During his session Neil was afflicted with an experience I know all too well on this trip. You are sat on the board waiting for a wave when an un-expecting arm or leg gets brushed by an innocuous bit of seaweed or equivalent drifting in the water.












