This is Yamba, wide beaches, gentle surf and a town that still has time to talk. Photo / Destination NSW
“You’ll notice people chat here,” Shane tells us on our first afternoon in Yamba.
He’s right. Over the next 24 hours, a dog walker stops to recommend a beach, a server laughs about regional food names, and the town’s dolphins seem keen to say hello.
We fly into Gold Coast Airport for my wife’s birthday in just before summer and drive two hours south to Yamba, a town that still feels like what Byron Bay used to be before it became too popular.
After checking in, we walk to the main street and find Wobbly Chook Brewery. While perusing the beer list, Shane approaches us. He asks if it is our first time in Yamba, then starts recommending places: coffee spots, beaches, a kayak tour. Twenty minutes in, we learn he owns the place.
As we go to pay, an older woman passes by and Shane gives her a wave. “That’s my mother,” he explains. “Despite being past retirement age, she still works every day.” He leans forward, smiling. “The brewery is named after my father. He was nicknamed Chook, and after a few drinks, he’d walk a little wobbly.” He laughs, even though he’s probably told that story a thousand times.
The building once housed Australia’s busiest hostel. Backpackers would stop for a night on their way to Byron Bay. Shane would tell them they’d be back before the end of the week.
Most were.
It’s a long weekend and the town is busier than usual, but it still feels calmer than most coastal tourist towns. That night, we line up at Yamba Fisho and the long queue suggests we’ve chosen well. We grab beers from the bottle shop across the road and eat at plastic tables on the street. The fish tastes clean and sweet, and unlike most fish and chip shops, you can taste the seafood through the batter.
When I order potato cakes, the server smiles. “You aren’t from New South Wales, are you? They’re called potato scallops here!” We debate which name is better. “Potato cakes,” I say. “Sounds like dessert.”
The next morning, we stop at Bay St Local for coffee. In small towns, coffee can be hit or miss, but this is genuinely good. We take it outside to sit on a rug on the lawn.
A retiree walking his dog stops. “That looks like a great spot.” He asks where we are from, how we like Yamba, then recommends a beach down the road and tells us where to park. Shane is right about people here.
We finish our coffee and head to Angourie, a ten-minute drive away. It is home to one of the region’s main attractions: the Blue and Green Pools. They sit in an old rock quarry, spring-fed and cool. Families wade along the edges while teenagers jump from higher ledges. We’ve been to places like this, packed with people staging photos. Here, everyone is just swimming.
Taking the local’s advice, we drive to the beach he recommended. A walk down a track leads us to largely deserted sand. The water is cool but swimmable and surfers catch waves in the distance. Yamba’s breaks are consistent, with spots for beginners and experienced surfers alike. During our hour-long walk, we only see a few other people. This is Yamba’s real strength and its biggest difference from Byron: so many beaches within easy reach, most of them empty. Five minutes from town and you have a beach to yourself.
By evening, the International Street Food Fair takes over the main street, an annual event we’ve lucked into. We try several dishes before stopping at Mexican Yamba for margaritas. My wife grew up in Texas with high standards for her favourite drink. These meet them.
“I’m glad we came here for my birthday,” she says. “It’s even better than I expected.” I smile.
Later, we end the night at the Pacific Hotel on the headland. The NRL Grand Final is playing, and I’m the only person supporting the Melbourne Storm. When they lose a close game, I endure some lighthearted ribbing from locals who seem pleased to have found a southerner to tease.
On our final morning, we kayak the Clarence River for three hours. Our guide, Phil, who moved to Yamba 30 years earlier, paddles with the ease of someone who does this daily, steering us between mangrove bays and islands. He stops mid-paddle to point. “See that bird? The Wedge-tailed Eagle, Australia’s largest raptor.” I can’t spot it until we’re 20m closer. Phil’s eyesight matches his paddling.
Later, he points to another island. “This is a rare, endangered bird. There are only two in Yamba.” He smiles. “What a treat we get to see one of them.”
Between birds, he tells us how the Angourie pools formed when a quarry flooded, how workboats used to fill these channels when fishing kept Yamba going.
Halfway through, we pull up at a small island for coffee and cake. Phil says he loves that Yamba hasn’t changed too much. Everyone nods.
Someone in our group mentions they haven’t seen any souvenir shops. That’s when I realise I haven’t either. Most seaside towns have rows of them selling cheap t-shirts with silly slogans. Yamba has surf stores and shops that locals actually use. It’s another thing missing, like the crowds.
After kayaking, we walk the Yamba breakwater. Fishing boats motor past, and we spot dolphins below. People stand with rods along the wall. We don’t fish, but the Clarence River holds species year-round, and half-day charters are popular in this relaxed fishing and surf town.
On the drive back to Gold Coast Airport, what strikes me most about Yamba is not what it has, but what it doesn’t. No souvenir shops. No crowds at every viewpoint. No locals tired of tourists. Shane at the brewery, the man with his dog, Phil on the river, they all seem genuinely interested in whether we are enjoying ourselves.
Yamba is what Byron Bay used to be. My wife turns to me. “We need to come back.”
Looks like Shane is still right.
YAMBA, NEW SOUTH WALES
GETTING THERE
Air New Zealand and Jetstar offer direct flights from Auckland to Gold Coast Airport.
From there, rent a car for an easy two-hour drive to Yamba.
DETAILS
Yamba Motor Inn | yambamotorinn.com.au
Yamba Kayak | yambakayak.com
The writer travelled at their own expense.