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Residents of the Northern Rivers, in Australia's New South Wales, claim that either because of a confluence of ley-lines or the obsidian in the hills, there is something deeply spiritual about the area. It extends from north of Coffs Harbour to the Queensland border and includes Australia's "hippy capital" Nimbin, the nursery-rhyme-named Mullumbimby and Bangalow with its famous markets every fourth Sunday - I didn't know there was so much tie-dye in the world. And the epicentre of this spiritual hot-zone is Byron Bay, which used to be a whaling station and meat-packing centre but now is a mecca to surfers, alternative lifestylers and, increasingly, the well-heeled urban exhausted from Sydney and Brisbane.
It is, improbably, raining as I drive through Mullumbimby, the main street of which is so lined with the wooden, wide-verandah colonial style banks, hotels and churches that it feels like the set of some gold mining film, although it can't be as untouched by time as it appears.
I take Goonengerry Rd through Mullumbimby's rolling hills to Crystal Castle, a sort of New Age theme park which was started by - or rather "envisioned" - by Naren King; there's a spiritual labyrinth walk, a cafe (the lentil lasagne is excellent), tarot and aura readers and a profusion of crystals, dream catchers and transformational books available for purchase.
There's a community rainforest planting at one edge of the property, and Naren is there with his son, planting trees dedicated to one another in the "fatherhood forest".
"There was a pixie there playing pipes before," says Nish, my guide, her floaty blonde hair alternatively dreaded and plaited, with shells woven in so she tinkles as she walks. "Well, a man crouching in the mud, playing the pipes, with a pixie hat and pixie ears."
Nish and I go on the Buddha Walk, one of Crystal Castle's main attractions, offering beautiful views down the green hills and lined with statues of Buddhist and Indonesian gods, some with flower, crystal or coin offerings at their feet.
"The thing is," Nish says, "the hills are full of obsidian, and obsidian is a very healing stone. So travellers would arrive in Byron Bay, and all their stuff, comes up because of the obsidian. They need to work through all this stuff so they stay there. And then healers go there because they can work there."
She takes a photograph of my aura - a swirl of pink and purple - she tells me I am deeply spiritual and (I may have misunderstood this bit) have magical powers. I don't know if it's my hitherto unsuspected spiritualism or the influence of the obsidian, but I do buy some crystals.
Driving from Mullumbimby to Byron Bay township I try to clear my mind so I can "sense" the energy she spoke about. Can I feel my "stuff" coming to the surface? Can I absorb the throb of the obsidian beneath me?
"There's a good energy out there," says Rusty Miller, who visited Byron Bay in 1973 and never left. He was the US surf champion in 1965, and now he makes a living teaching surfing and producing Rusty's Byron Guide.
This influx of residents has hardly rendered the area orthodox - a notice board in a cafe I pop in to for a gluten-free muffin offers Tragar realignment, theta healing and facial harmonising - but Byron's latest inhabitants have certainly changed the complexion of the place. Now alongside organic juice and gelati bars and raw food cafes jostle fine dining establishments and some chi-chi accommodation options.
Rusty remembers when the area was little known backwater; a pitstop on the surfing highway when surfing was a fringe sport, and a mecca for impecunious spiritual healers and new agers, many of whom came for the 10-day Aquarius Festival in 1973 and stayed. Now the beauty, the beaches and the laidback lifestyle have drawn a new kind of monied traveller, pushing the prices up - a fairly ordinary house on the Wategos beach, where at least three A-list celebrities have property, sold last year for A$15.68 million, anything in the old Byron township is at least A$2 million - and forcing the previous alternative lifestylers out.
"Now it's all actors and film makers here," mourns Rusty. "And those are beautiful and creative people, too. But, you know, it's turned the rainbow a little grey."
I head for an example of that "new" Byron, the Buddha Gardens Balinese Day Spa, part of a complex including some absurdly luxurious villas frequented by the likes of Kylie Minogue and Eric Bana. Sipping green tea beside a bubbling plunge pool, I get talking to Sarah, who's also waiting for a treatment. She tells me she's worked in some corporate role in Sydney and used to holiday here, but feeling burnt out, she moved to Byron fulltime a couple of years ago. A diamond the size of a broad bean weighs down one hand, a jagged piece of amethyst hangs at her throat: possibly she exemplifies that new Byron wave.
I tell her I had my aura photographed, and she is very interested.
And then she tells me she had her aura photographed just after she moved to the area, and it was bright green. "What did that mean," I ask.
"It meant I'd finally got my s*** together," she says, smiling beatifically.
