Bumpin' ... Weeks 22 & 23 with Jack Johnson and Friends

St Helena lookout above Byron Bay

Over the Easter break I travelled to my mother's home to care for her post-surgery. The nights had cooled and mosquitoes buzzed in the hundreds at the river house after the recent rainstorms. I hadn't planned on venturing away from the house much, mostly to take the short drive to the next coastal town to purchase groceries and home again to make comfort food: Roasted pumpkin soup; steaming chicken and corn soup with grated ginger and egg ribbons; roast duck stuffed with dried apricots, pine nuts and cranberries and cinnamon spiced warm apple pancakes.

Main Beach, Byron Bay

As I hadn't planned on a holiday, I did not equip myself with my usual Canon 6D camera. As a result, the images you see in this post were taken using a tiny, lime green lightweight Sony Cybershot camera. 14.1 megapixels, compact, smaller than your wallet and lighter than a mobile phone. Byron purchased it last minute at the airport some twelve months ago- An $80 impulse buy. I wasn't thrilled about wasting money although it has served us well on shorter road trips... Which brings me to the current Byron Bay road trip: The busy city drive made by Joe and B from Sydney to greet me at my mother's before heading off to Blues Fest.

Byron and Joe exploring the backstreets of Byron Bay

Joe and I take in the incredible vista of Pat Morton lookout, Lennox Head

Trying not to inhale the dust during Joss Stone's performance

3.5 cheeky monkeys listening to funky beats and husky voices belt out well-loved tunes

It was at Blues Fest where I relaxed to the smooth lyrics of my first love, Mr Jack Johnson. It has been one of the top ranked activities on my personal Bucket List to see the family man/ surfer/ soulful muso perform his chilled melodies live since I was a jittery, leggy school girl. Back then I imagined that I would be front row as he hummed centre stage before we locked eyes and he smiled as if his eyes said, 'I'm glad you made it'.

The reality of the true experience was somewhat different... I originally stood with Joe and B but as a crowd of younger teenagers pushed forward I could feel the temperature under the tent rise. The air was palpable and thick, swaying space was reduced to a tiny confined area comparable to a sardine tin where I was forced up against strangers, some smoking, some drinking, some too far gone to realise where they even were. I lost B and Joe in the crowd so I retreated to the cooler, relaxed spaces of the back of the tent where I found a lovely patch of grass. Sure, I had lost my up close view of Jack but I could still hear him strum and sing.

From where I sprawled out on the grass with the older folk in picnic chairs, my oversized hooded jacket draped over my face, my knees bent to avoid being trodden on by the odd passer by... I listened intently and sang along to songs that formed a special part of my youth. And there in the blackest tent as flashes of lasers lit up the big top roof, little Pecan began to roll and sway, kick and stretch from within my belly to the gentle melodies.

I may not have been serenaded by Jack Johnson but I took away from the live performance something far more magical and enchanting than my 17 year old self could have ever imagined.

Oh, and if you ever happen to stumble across this blog, Mr Johnson (I know friends, it's a stretch, right?)... You'll be pleased to know that I'm personally acquainted with your youngest fan.

Enjoying a moment of solitude, accompanied by the sea breeze and occasional gentle Pecan flutters

Somehow in the darkest corner of that tent, Byron found me, he took me by the hand and carefully wove his way through the thousands of moving people to guide me to an open space near the front of the tent where I could clearly see Jack on stage. Together we danced under that tall, open tent as we listened and swayed...

"Love is the answer,
At least for most of the questions in my heart
Like why are we here? And where do we go?
And how come it's so hard?
It's not always easy and
Sometimes life can be deceiving
I'll tell you one thing, it's always better when we're together"

Two lifelong friends exploring the Byron Bay seaside markets

Long afternoon shadows, salty beach hair and flip flops in Byron Bay

I wish I could have stayed longer with the boys on their road trip however, it was wonderful to return home to tell my mother all about my brief visit to Blues Fest, seeing Jackson Johnson and excitedly describing how my baby danced about to one of his/her mama's favourite musicians.

These past two weeks were spent with my best friends, my favourite music, my beautiful mother and my fondest memories, relived.

Have you ever wanted to see your favourite band or musician perform live? Is it on your Bucket List? I urge you to take that list and scribble the tour dates, venue and booking details on the back. Make it happen. Don't miss the chance to reminisce whilst creating new, fun memories. Take your friends and have a blast.

Love Bella xx

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Beach Campfire Tales

Our Beautiful Campfire on Secret Beach

On a cool autumn afternoon, two families packed woven picnic baskets with freshly prepared dishes to enjoy on a secret beach. Their hampers were brimming with homemade hummus, warm thai larb gai (cooked with homegrown thai basil, mint, red chillies and limes from their vegetable gardens), sweet spiced maple kumara, juicy wedges of navel oranges, red wine, spring water, damper and raw vegetables to be cooked on an open beach campfire.

We walked over a grassy headland, kicking up sand with our thongs and basking in the last of the afternoon light as the sun cast long shadows over the land and coastline. Along the way, my friend picked a tiny colourful flower and she surprised me by stating it was a weed. I find it intriguing that some weeds look so exotic and beautiful.

We descended the steep sandy hill to our secret beach, where we unloaded our precious cargo and commenced scavenging the beach for dry pieces of driftwood to build our campfire. Our neighbour dug a shallow hole in the sand as we stocked the wood pile with ghostly white pieces of wood that had washed ashore during the recent storm. As soon as orange flames began to lick the sky and our blackened logs began to glow red, we pushed shiny, foil-wrapped vegetable parcels into the fire to cook as the children played with our excited puppy. Wine and water flowed as tiny waves crashed onto the shore. Sunset dimmed in the sky and soon the air was filled with the aromas that had followed us from our kitchen.

One of our sides included steamed mushrooms with thyme, fresh from our garden.

Steamed Button Mushrooms with Thyme

500g button mushrooms
8-10 fresh thyme sprigs
1 garlic clove, finely chopped
2 Tbs olive oil
sea salt
cracked pepper

Peel or wipe the mushrooms with a damp towel. In a large bowl, coat the mushrooms with the finely chopped garlic, olive oil and toss with the thyme sprigs. Fold a long piece of aluminium foil in half and place the mushrooms on top. Season with sea salt and cracked pepper, then carefully seal your foil parcel by folding the edges together. The double layer is needed to prevent damage to the parcel and sand from mixing with your mushrooms. Cook the mushrooms on the side of your fire, away from direct flames for ten minutes. Carefully remove and open, taking care not to burn yourself on the steam. Serve in a small bowl.

Campfire Roasted Potatoes with Rosemary
Campfire side dish

Chat potatoes
Fresh rosemary sprigs
Olive oil
Sea salt
Cracked pepper
Butter (optional)

The number of potatoes you roast will depend on the number of people in your party. I tend to cook two for each person, plus an additional few in case you're hungry.

Scrub and rinse your potatoes and allow to drain. Prick each potato evenly with a fork about 20 times to allow for evening cooking, then slice a thin wedge in each potato to place a short segment of a fresh rosemary sprig. Spray each potato with olive oil, season with sea salt and cracked pepper, then wrap individually in aluminium foil.

* If you prefer to slice your potatoes in half, you can smear a generous dollop of butter on each half, before sandwiching rosemary between the two halves, spraying with oil, seasoning and wrapping in foil.

Once you have established your campfire, place the foil-wrapped taters into the coals and cook for 30 to 45 minutes. Remember to count how many you throw into the fire as the foil will blacken and make the potatoes difficult to see, especially after night falls.

How to test if cooked: Carefully remove a potato from the fire and push a fork into the middle, if you can lift the fork back out without lifting the potato, your delicious campfire roasted potato is ready- Be careful not to burn your fingers! The soft flesh will be fragrant with the rosemary, with a hint of smokey flavour from the open campfire.

There's something magical about sharing campfire tales on a beach with friends. The children danced around the flickering light as yellow embers floated towards the sky, like tiny fire fairies. We gazed at the stars as the fire grew smaller, making out constellations and watching as the moon cast a silver lane of shimmering mirrors over the ocean. When our fire went out, we kicked sand over the glowing logs and made our way home to the hum of crickets and the sounds of the slowly churning sea.

Love Bella xx

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