For most kids, tagging along with your dad to Friday beers at his best mate’s place might have been pretty boring – but not if, like Camille Wiseman, your dad’s best mate happened to be a prosthetist with a shed full of arms and legs amid cows, chickens and sheep. “A wonderland of spare human parts,” laughs Camille of her child’s-eye view of Peter Farrand’s workshop on his Broken Head farm.

While her dad was inadvertently imprinting a future in prosthetics, her art-loving mum was nurturing her creative side. Recognising Camille’s natural talent – no doubt inherited from her own mother, an accomplished abstract painter back in her hometown of New Orleans – she enrolled Camille in Sue Holm’s after-school art classes at the Scout Hall.

“Sue was just incredible,” Camille says. “She taught art classes that weren’t just a novelty. Even though we were only primary school kids, there were no colouring sheets or mindless activities – it was very much about understanding how different mediums work.”

While painting remained a constant, Camille’s priorities were more academic. After graduating from Byron High, she moved to Melbourne and completed a Bachelor of Biomedicine with a view to pursuing medicine. But something didn’t feel quite right. “It’s such a competitive and expensive degree, you want to be really sure about it,” she says.

A career as a prosthetist-orthotist (P&O) had always been in the mix – especially after her dad joined the managerial side of Peter’s business years earlier and, ironically, lost two of his own fingers in a circular saw incident at the Broken Head shed. But armed with the clinical experience gained during her biomedicine degree, she knew for certain it was the right fit.

Working at the intersection of healthcare, biomechanics, custom fabrication and rehabilitation, P&Os occupy one of the most multidisciplinary roles in allied health. It was exactly this breadth of practice that appealed to Camille: “It allowed me to still be a clinician working in hospitals and helping people, but I also got to use my hands and make stuff.”

Freshly minted from her two-year Master of Clinical Prosthetics and Orthotics, Camille moved to Wollongong to work for one of the larger clinics in NSW, joining the astonishingly small ranks of just 550 P&Os nationwide. In a country as vast as Australia, that can mean a substantial amount of time on the road servicing sprawling regional catchments.

During her two years in Wollongong, her paintings became increasingly preoccupied with water. “Not just the ocean,” she explains, “but rivers and clouds and the flow of water in every form.” The ‘blue humanities’ – an emerging interdisciplinary field exploring our relationship with water – resonated deeply, and fish began to feature prominently in her work, culminating in her first solo show in late 2024, ‘We Devour the Ocean’.

As well as using fish symbolically, Camille explains she simply likes the way they look. “They’re fun to paint,” she laughs. “You can do anything with them. I love to make up pretend fish. They come in all shapes and sizes, so they’re a very useful artistic element.”

When her partner Marcus was accepted into a program at the University of Trento in Northern Italy as part of his master’s in mechatronics engineering, Camille seized the opportunity to embark on her own European painting sabbatical. Taking 12 months off with the blessing of her employer, the pair arrived in the picturesque alpine city in early 2025.

Setting up a studio in their lounge room, Camille continued her solo practice and sought out atelier-style training – her first formal classes since afternoons at the Scout Hall with Sue. Over the course of the year, she attended three six-week intensives: figure painting in regional France, portrait painting in New York, and fresco painting in Florence.

“I feel like I learned more in those three courses than an entire life of trying to figure it out on my own,” she says. “I think there’s something to be said for being self-taught and working things out yourself, but sometimes it’s really lovely to have somebody point you in the right direction.”

Between intensives, life in Trento was idyllic, with Camille and Marcus becoming engaged, and Camille working on one of her largest and most challenging pieces to date, The Fish and the Caretaker. Rich in symbolism and steeped in the European tradition, the work distills Camille’s time in Italy onto the canvas, documenting her technical evolution in real time.

The work was recognised with two international prizes – coming second in the Emerging Artist Award in the 2025 Beautiful Bizarre Art Prize, and third in the TOSEE Art Competition. Its later inclusion in a group show in Milan brought an extraordinary year abroad to a fittingly wonderful close.

Hitting the ground running, within days of returning to Australia earlier this year, Camille exhibited her overseas work in a group surrealist show in Sydney. Asked if she would categorise herself as a surrealist, Camille reflects, “I would say I’m surreal-leaning – drawing on ideas of dreams, the subconscious, symbolism and allegory. I like work that has some sort of meaning.”

Before the show had even opened, Camille was back in her childhood bedroom in Bangalow and immediately reporting for work in Ballina – to none other than Peter Farrand, who long ago outgrew the shed at Broken Head to build a network of prosthetic clinics that recently merged with Spao Ottobock Care, conveniently encompassing Camille’s former clinic in Wollongong. 

Her dad’s there too – when he’s not somewhere on the road between Brisbane and Nowra helping run the newly expanded network.

Camille continues to put all the technical gains of the last year into practice, working towards her next solo show – albeit with smaller canvases at the moment. Between full-time work, recently becoming an aunty, ducking down to Melbourne to see Marcus as he finishes his degree, and planning their January wedding, life is a bit less Trento-paced for now.

She’s unsure where they’ll settle after Marcus graduates, given his equally niche but less transferable career in mechatronics. But with only one P&O for every 14,000 square kilometres of Australia, Camille’s happy to just go with the flow. Like a fish.

@camillekathryn

“We all know the stories of the cedar cutters in our shire, the dairy farms, the meatworks in Byron Bay, and the mining of the beaches. I wanted to tell the story of what happened after these industries finished, and what took their place,” says Tricia.

“In the mid to late ’70s the music scene in Australia exploded,” she writes. “The stultifying conservative 1950s gave way to the swinging sixties and opened the door for Australian music in the 1970s and ’80s. It was the most influential time in Australian music. A wave of bands formed, touring by road the east coast of Australia from Melbourne to Sydney to Brisbane. Many of them stopped in at Byron Bay, Bangalow and Lismore, including the most notable Australian bands of that era.”

Music had been happening for decades before the first annual Byron Bay Bluesfest in 1990. It erupted as outdoor music festivals on various rundown dairy farms like Fowlers Lane, in the Norco Piggery (recycled as the Arts Factory), at Music Farm Studio, and at other key venues like the Bangalow Bowlo.

“Musicland is the follow-on to Neverland,” Tricia explains. “Neverland finished with the story of American surfer-musician, Dan Doeppel, who came to Australia in 1967 in a band called The Nutwood Rug. Dan came to Byron Bay and bought the old Norco Piggery in 1974, with the dream to turn it into the Arts Factory.”

In 1976, Melbourne musician Garry Deutsher created Music Farm Studio on an old dairy farm in Coorabell. Tricia and her partner, surfing legend Rusty Miller, lived next door to the studio for 33 years. “All the big names came here to Byron in the 1970s and 1980s: Midnight Oil, Cold Chisel, The Angels, Australian Crawl, Mental as Anything, Redgum, Goanna, Richard Clapton, Mondo Rock, Divinyls, Split Enz, Rose Tattoo, Kevin Borich, Eurogliders – and so many more.” These bands either recorded at the Music Farm and/or played at the Arts Factory.

From the 1980s, many other musicians also recorded at Music Farm, including Olivia Newton-John, Yothu Yindi, Mental as Anything and Jimmy Barnes (in Cold Chisel). Next month, Music Farm will have been operating as a working music studio for 50 years. “This is an amazing testament to all the people who were involved in building the studio, and the musicians who have recorded there. I wanted to acknowledge this, and pay homage to it,” says Tricia.

“Because I know many of the people involved in the making of the Arts Factory and Music Farm, I had access to their stories. However, for big, known bands that recorded at Music Farm, I relied on many musicians to share other musicians’ contacts. Rob Hirst, from Midnight Oil, was the first of 80 interviews for this book. Rob, who very sadly died recently, was most generous in assisting me with the phone numbers or emails of his musician friends. This opened doors for me. I am so appreciative of his generosity of spirit towards my book.”

Venues could be “make do”. Between 1976 and 1982, concerts were held on the 113-acre Fowlers Lane former dairy property of Harry Fowler. Many were organised by music promoter Roger Danne, sometimes with his business partner Denni Scott. Well-known Australian music promoter Michael Chugg, who knew Roger Danne in Sydney, was also involved.

In her book, Tricia quotes Roger Danne: “I was living at Music Farm Studios, and Chugg was the promoter from Sydney who would bring the bands. I did Fowlers Lane with him for two years. Split Enz played at Fowlers Lane. They were fantastic. They played on the back of a semi-trailer with no roof. It was a full moon, and when Tim Finn sang: ‘I hope I never, I hope I never have to cry again’, it was unbelievable. It was one of those moments – one of the best, ever.” In April,  Split Enz was due to perform at the now cancelled Bluesfest.

“There are glimmers that I remember about the Split Enz concert at Music Farm in 1979,” recollects Mark Pope, who promoted that event. “There are two things I remember about the concert. I remember speaking to Garry Deutsher about it and the table-top semi-trailer that was the stage that they played on. I don’t know how we rigged the lights because there was no stage or roof. I think we might have had close to 1500 or 2000 people. Tickets were around $5 a head.

There was no security. We made it up as we went along. I was staying in a caravan near where the stage was set up. I woke up the next morning after the concert. I had my thongs on, stepped out of the caravan, took two steps, and literally between my toes was a freshly made cow turd. I still remember to this day, this warm shit coming up between my toes.” Later, Mark Pope promoted INXS and Cold Chisel.

Roger Danne recalled a night when Cold Chisel played at the Bangalow Bowlo, which holds around 300 people. “The night Cold Chisel played there were 500 people. The place was packed; people were outside who couldn’t get in. Someone picked up a chair and smashed the glass window in the foyer. We had to stop the show. Jimmy Barnes came down and said, ‘Wake up to yourself!’ He sang acapella through the broken window for the people who couldn’t get in to see the show.”

Tricia also quotes INXS guitarist Tim Farriss, who recalls playing at the Bowlo in September 1980. “That would have been when we first became INXS, having only just changed our name from the Farriss Brothers. It would have been the first time we played the North Coast. It was a really great crowd and audience.”

Musician Barry Ferrier continues the recollections. “Innerspring was a five-piece band with two road crews when it included Michael Barnes. We were working solidly five nights a week. We supported Cold Chisel, who were the last gig at the Bowlo. Jimmy went out on the green and the girls followed him. It wasn’t just the greens, it was the door also. People were having sex under the pool table. It was a wild gig. It was packed.”

Tricia moved to the area in the early 1980s. Among her many other endeavours – ranging from social planning work, researching for a town planning company, 15 years in local government and 21 years teaching social science at Southern Cross University – she worked for a year researching and interviewing people on the history, development and activism on the Byron Shire coastline. “Again, it’s documenting the history of our place, and the people who have been cultural shapeshifters. We live in an area with such rich contemporary history that is not really documented. I feel compelled to explain how and why Byron Shire is what it is today: what, and who made it this way.”

Musicland: When the Music Came to Byron 1974 to 1995 will be launched in Byron Bay in August. Email triciashantz11@gmail.com to pre-order.

Feature image: New Zealand’s Mi-Sex playing at Fowlers Lane in the 70s

“I’ve lived in Bangalow my whole life and love being part of the community. I really enjoy being active, helping people and being involved in community activities,” says Charlotte.

People tend to moan and groan a fair bit about the local council. What motivated you to apply for a spot on the Byron Youth Council?

To be honest, given this is a new initiative, I didn’t really know what to expect when I applied. I wanted to apply because I think

young people should have a say in decisions that affect our community and I thought it would be a great way to meet new people across the Shire. It can feel like young people’s opinions are heard well in some areas, like schools or sports clubs, but there don’t seem to be many opportunities outside of these spaces. The Youth Council is a really good opportunity for people my age to share ideas and help make positive changes in our community.

Council wants to give young people a platform to voice their views and advocate for action on issues that affect them. What issues do you think are important to young people in Bangalow and 2479?

Bangalow is a great place to live, and I think it’s really important that young people feel included and supported here. I think some of the important issues for young people in our area include having safe places to hang out, especially since the Bangalow Bowlo shut down. It would be great to have more spaces where teenagers can spend time with friends in a safe and welcoming environment. Good sports and recreational facilities are also really important, because a lot of young people here are very active. And living in such a beautiful area, it’s also important to make sure our beaches and natural environment are protected for the future.

Being part of the Youth Council is a chance for us to actually have a say about things that affect teenagers in our area. I also love volunteering, and I think the Youth Council could be a great way to help more young people get involved in the community and feel like they’re part of making a difference.

How will you connect to, and consult with, young people in order to stay in touch with issues?

I think it’s really important to listen to lots of different young people. Given the restrictions around social media, in-person discussions will be the way to go. I’m lucky to have a younger brother at Bangalow Public School, and we have quite a few community events, e.g. the Billy Cart Derby and the Bangalow Show, that could provide opportunities to speak with local teens. I love chatting with my teammates through netball and many different sports about their concerns, and I connect with kids involved in community groups like Surf Life Saving. The local media could also help us achieve our goals. I want to make sure I’m listening to different perspectives so I can represent as many young people as possible.

What skills are you hoping to build on or develop during the 12 months you will be on the Youth Council?

It’s a great chance to develop leadership skills and learn more about how local government works. However, for me, it’s about building confidence in speaking up on issues I believe in. I’d also like to work on projects that can make a real difference to my friends and community.

Being part of the Youth Council will be a great opportunity to learn how to represent people and make a difference in the community.

Are you interested in a career in politics?

I am not totally sure about what I want to do when I grow up, but I am certain that the skills I learn throughout these 12 months will help me with whatever I choose to do.

What was the first Byron Youth Council meeting like?

The first meeting was a chance to meet everyone in the Council and the councillors. We got a chance to look over the opportunities that we will have over the 12 months. There is a wide age range and teens from all parts of Byron Shire. What I discovered was that we are there for the same reason, but all bring a variety of different perspectives and skills. Everyone was so welcoming and excited to kick off the next 12 months of action!

Keep your eye out for Charlotte in The Bangalow Herald over the next 12 months. She will be reporting in on the Byron Youth Council, and The Herald will support Charlotte in her efforts to connect to young people in the 2479 postcode.

Every Tuesday night the Bangalow Hotel rocks to the sound of a bunch of passionate people doing what they love best – playing chess, and watching others play.

Five or six years ago the game broke free of its stereotypes to become one of the world’s most followed spectator activities. The 20 or so regulars at the Bangalow Chess Club are a perfect illustration of this: young, diverse, enthusiastic, and willing to come from afar every week to socialise and compete against each other.

Avalon, currently No. 1 on the leader board, travels from Mullumbimby; and the reputed ‘most improved’ player, Bradley, comes all the way from Nimbin. There’s even an international flavour to the line-up, but 2479 locals also feature among the throng, among them man about town, Lydian Dunbar.

They’re drawn by the chess challenges on offer, but something more as well – an atmosphere of camaraderie and respect. There’s an almost family vibe to the club: indeed, Evan Manttari founded it with his brother Daniel, and former girlfriend Shyla, a bar staffer at the pub. They were looking for something to get them off their screens and out of the house, something which meant the brothers could hang out together regularly. Now Daniel and his girlfriend Teagan – a recent recruit to the game – drive up frequently from their home in Yamba.

Shyla’s mum, Bec, is another who started as a beginner, and says she’s making solid progress. Her main weakness is taking too long to decide on a move, she says, and with each player rationed to 10-minutes for each of the four games played through the night, such hesitancy can mean an automatic loss. The time pressure suits Bec’s other daughter, Amarlie, at 16 the club’s youngest member, who credits her success to a fast, decisive style. It can intimidate opponents, she says, smiling sweetly as she concedes the word ‘aggressive’ might define her style – including in games against her more tentative mum.

But even ruthless Amarlie admits it’s the sense of community that keeps her coming back.

Avalon is one of the more experienced players here: after being taught to play at a young age by his grandfather, he helped set up chess clubs at all the schools he attended while growing up, from Shearwater to Xavier to the Green School. Of the many chess groups and associations he’s been part of, the Bangalow club is the best, he says. The reason? Because the focus is on actual playing. With at least four games guaranteed per player, it’s like a mini tournament. Self-described as “incredibly competitive”, Avalon enjoys the opportunity to play several games, face to face, and with a variety of opponents.

Some of them are, like him, top-notch players and on one rainy Tuesday night in early March, Avalon was slightly startled to find himself suddenly in a trap – the result of a mid-game “fried liver advanced attack variation” – laid, albeit semi-accidentally, by the equally competitive Miela. Checkmate!

At other tables, beginner or intermediate players compete with others at their level – matched appropriately through an algorithm-driven system devised by Evan. While the club offers no formal coaching, there’s plenty of learning ‘on the job’ and during post-game analysis, when the better players offer fruitful feedback.

There are several tiers here; everyone finds their level and they’re all eager to improve. Rob, in his 30s, plays games online. He also follows the games of world No.1, Norwegian grandmaster Magnus Carlsen, on YouTube and is “working on some new openings”.

At 21, rising star Bradley, meanwhile, feels his strength is in his end game. Having come to the club every Tuesday since it began last September, his game has improved 100%, he says.

Towards the end of the four games an air of collective excitement builds at the prospect of a tie-break. At this point, the four 10-minute per person limit shrinks to three-minutes, demanding a heightened degree of concentration and rapid decision-making. The Velvets and Mazzy Star continue supplying the background music, but as the tension rises, even the drinkers and pool players fall silent to watch. The time pressure means mistakes are made: Black’s excessive focus on a potential checkmate in one corner distracts him from the devious White manoeuvre diagonally opposite and whammo! It’s all over.

Evan, meanwhile, has been scampering around in the background, a gleeful master of ceremonies, firing up the AI generated weighted system that records games, matches players and keeps everything moving. The nights represent a magical triad for him: “It’s an ancient game, aided here by modern technology, bringing people together.”

Time to spin the prize-wheel, on which everyone features, with a ‘slice’ allocated for just turning up, and the awarding of the evening’s $20 voucher.

Chess has exploded in the past half dozen years – partly as a result of the massively popular streaming series The Queen’s Gambit, which coincided with COVID lockdowns. Locked-up people found release and stimulation in “meeting” others over the virtual board. Evan says the fulfilment of that personal need is one of the main reasons for the club’s success. Most of the members still play online, but they all state that it’s the face-to-face interaction that brings them out at night.

Bec enjoys it because “there are so many different types of people’” and the atmosphere is friendly and, while competitive, remains respectful, she says.

Chess is an incredibly valuable activity for young people, Avalon says: “It builds a level of resilience, a determination to persevere, to keep your chin up despite losing 100 times. It also develops the capacity for forethought.”

There’s even a moral, or character-building benefit to it: “It teaches humility and it’s a demonstration that our actions have consequences,” he says.

Mainly, however, at this grass-roots level, it’s the “humanness” of it, says Evan, the craic and the connection, both intellectually sophisticated and innocent.

It’s been a revelation for him: “Daniel and I started the club for ourselves, but it’s become something for others. People have made friends here; it costs nothing, but there’s real joy in that room.”

Bangalow Chess meets every Tuesday, 6-9pm at the Bangalow Hotel.

For details email bangalowchess@gmail.com

Photos Yutaro Fukuhara

Joan Leeds may have only operated the Bangalow Post Office for a short time, but she left her mark on the village. Known for her risqué banter, quick wit and easy friendliness, she was never one for bland small talk across the counter. Customers queueing to collect packages – large and small – were just as likely to receive a cheeky aside as efficient service.

Now Joan has taken that natural comic instinct and put it to the test, recently completing Mandy Nolan’s Cranky Women comedy course – a workshop designed to help women of a certain age find their voice, shape their stories and say the things they have been ruminating on and raging about for years.

Joan saw a Facebook post looking for “cranky women” interested in comedy. “I wrote back, ‘I’m 69. I’ve got bloody lots to say.’”

And with that, she was in.

The first workshop took place at the Drill Hall Theatre in Mullumbimby. More than a dozen women arrived, most of them strangers, from different backgrounds and different decades of life experience. But they shared a sense that something inside them was ready to be voiced.

“It turned into comedy therapy, to be really honest,” Joan says.

Before anyone worked on punchlines, Mandy’s comedy students were invited to loosen up physically. “We had to do silly dances,” she says. “I have no rhythm at all so you can imagine how well that worked for me.” The laughter began there, awkward and freeing.

Then the mood shifted.

Each woman was asked to stand before the group and speak about the one thing that was truly upsetting or worrying her. That was when the hearts began to crack open and the emotions seeped out. Or in some cases, flooded.

What followed was raw and confronting. Some women spoke about grief, others about illness, family strain or isolation. One confessed she was afraid she would not be able to stop crying – and then proceeded to bawl her eyes out.

“The courage of those women was just incredible. There were so many hugs,” says Joan.

For Joan, who has never been shy of conversation, the exercise was unexpectedly powerful. “It wasn’t what I thought I was signing myself up for,” she says. “But once you make yourself vulnerable like that, you’ve got nothing to lose.”

Only after that emotional clearing, and the shaking off of the rusted-on armour of survival, broken hearts and broken dreams, could the laughter begin.

In smaller groups, each participant shared an embarrassing story, a mortifying anecdote or cringe-worthy gaff. Later, someone else in the group had to retell it on stage – embellishment and poetic licence essential.

“It was hilarious,” Joan says. “The way people could take your story and make it sound like it happened to them. Make something that was already awkward even more unbearable and hysterical.” On stage, humiliation transformed into shared laughter.

Joan’s own story involved a sudden and unfortunate gastrointestinal incident in the freezer aisle of a supermarket. Her improvised escape strategy – involving a reusable shopping bag and a swift exit – became, in the retelling, comedy gold.

Yet the course was not only about confession. It was about craft.

“I didn’t know how to write comedy,” says the naturally funny Joan. “I usually just feed off what’s in front of me. That’s just me. But Mandy taught us about the structure, the set-up. It’s a skill.”

Participants were coached in microphone technique, projection, where to stand and how to use their hands. They learned how to look at an audience without staring down a single person in terror. They workshopped their material one-on-one, refining wording and sharpening jokes.

Joan’s final routine drew heavily on her time at the Post Office, particularly her frustration with customers glued to their smartphones.

“I used to say, ‘I don’t need another app!’ but you bloody do,” she says. “If you want to know where your parcel is, you need the app.”

A cheeky reference to actor Liam Hemsworth and an imagined “big package” at the counter – polished with Nolan’s guidance – added another layer of bawdy humour, very much in keeping with the wit locals remember.

On the night of the final performance, Mandy MCed, warming the room and stepping in between performers to keep the flow of the evening.

“It was a high,” Joan says. “I’m up there doing my thing and people are laughing. I’m like, this is great.”

What moved her most, however, was watching the transformation of the other women.

“There were women with absolutely zero confidence,” she says. “From ‘I can’t stop crying’ to standing up there and making ceiling mould funny. Every one of them landed well. It was bloody brilliant.”

For Joan, the course was cathartic in ways she did not anticipate. It was not just about being cranky. It was about being heard.

At 69, she is not winding down. She is cranking things up. Whether she returns to the stage remains to be seen. Life, as always, is moving – in more ways than one.

Cranky that you missed it?

The next Cranky Women’s Comedy course runs on Sunday 17 May, 9am-3pm at Coorabell Hall with a performance at the hall on Friday 22 May.

The course cost is $150 for the full day, and funds raised at the Comedy Show performance will help support the SHIFT project.

mandynolan.com.au

Header image Cranky Women’s Comedy’s first graduates  Photo Lyn McCarthy – Niche Pictures

It is only natural that someone devoted to supporting the well-being of bees should prove as buzzy and life-affirming as the sight of the industrious insects going about their business in our garden or bushland.

But the warmth and enthusiasm that apiarist and floral alchemist Laodekia brings to the task verges on the preternatural – and indeed, her approach to the crucial undertaking involves a substantial sprinkle of cosmic vision.

Laodekia not only shepherds her own network of hives at Nashua, but she is the visionary behind a project to turn spare ground at the rear of the Coorabell Hall into a wild bee sanctuary – a food garden for them and a meeting and “grounding” place for bee-loving humans.

Her guiding angels in the enterprise are the bees themselves, Laodekia says, as the selection of Coorabell Hall as a location for a pollinator haven demonstrated.

“Coorabell is such a beautiful and significant site,” she says, “looking out over both the hinterland and the ocean.” Her initial intention was to build a garden full of edible medicinal flowers there, “like a living apothecary”, where people could come and pick healing plants for themselves. Then came the idea to bring in bees – natives, and the European variety as well.

But it turned out the bees had got there before her. The same day she received the OK from the hall’s managers to create a garden at the rear, Laodekia learned that a thriving wild hive already existed there.

It seemed magical to her and her fellow apiarists. “The bees welcomed us here, and they kind of confirmed that this is what’s meant to happen,” she says. “It tells you that the place is already perfect, right?”

An opening ceremony for the sanctuary was held a year ago followed by a number of gatherings “where we got to meet the bees, and be around them and their sound, which is super healing”.

There are regular get-togethers at the equinox and solstice dates where, as well as communing with the bees, group members offer something to the community, such as a sound healing or a floral alchemy session.

Laodekia attends the garden at least twice a week, and others pop in to water and mulch. Twenty new flowering seedlings were planted as this article was being prepared, just in

time for the rain mid-month. It has evolved into something of a sanctuary for locals as well. Anyone can come and bring offerings to the bees and many often just sit to enjoy a connection with nature.

“We all need sanctuaries,” says Laodekia, who insists that what the bees provide humanity far exceeds what we do for them.

There are other sanctuaries near Bangalow, including one behind Newrybar Community Hall which the Colony Bees group has serviced since 2022, where a strong population of sugarbag bees (Tetragonula carbonaria) are thriving in a log hive. The area supports many other swarms and wild hives.

Laodekia has her own apiary at her home in Nashua. Its name, Pleiapia, is a blend of the words Pleiades and Apis, because her seven hives are laid out like the Pleiades constellation, the ‘Seven Sisters’ that traditional farming communities consult to plan their planting season.

The hives are home to European bees, but the property, lush with medicinal plants, a hundred bush tucker trees and set amid a rainforest, is like “a big sanctuary planted all around us,” Laodekia says, and the flowers are usually alive with the sugarbag species. “We have blue lotuses in the pond, and the Europeans and the natives are all there together, pollinating, rolling in the flowers.

They all get along, he said. No drama.”

The plants in the garden at Coorabell Hall are all pollinator friendly, and many are also natural insect repellents. There’s Melissa (lemon balm), which she says the bees love: “It’s a plant of joy.” There are also sunflowers, salvia, sage, holy basil (Tulsi), rosemary, hyssop, some calendula, borage, echinacea. Blue and purple colours as much as possible.

Most of the seedlings planted here come from the Byron Bay Herb Nursery. “We work together really well. They love what we do and we love what they do,” Laodekia says.

The goal now is to create sanctuaries all over the Shire – a pollinator corridor with multiple different sites, nourishing biodiversity – and resilience.

Other halls have said yes to the establishment of a pollinator sanctuary, but for now Laodekia is keen to slow down. “The more I do, the less I can actually be present,” she says. And for someone who sees beekeeping as akin to parenting, just being present is the most important thing. “That relates to the health of the hives as well, and the garden. The most beautiful garden is the one where the grandma is there all day.

“I just want to anchor my energy here first, make this the environment that I wanted it to be, and extend from there. It’s also important getting more people involved. Like, we can do it, but everyone needs to be part of it. It’s not a one-person thing, it’s not just me. This is a community thing.”

The tiny stingless sugarbag bees endemic to the north east of Australia are among the most community-minded of all bees, with a highly developed social structure compared with other species.

The loose coalition of sanctuary supporters in the region aim at a similar cohesion and cooperative spirit. Their project has taken on a life of its own, Laodekia says, with members joining forces to grow more pollinator sanctuaries within – and for – our community.

As part of the natural cycle of things, the Coorabell bees have migrated from their tree trunk home behind the hall, so the plan now is to bring in a variety of new hives, in the hope that the bees will settle in. If all goes well, you will see – and hear – both native and European bees at the Coorabell Sanctuary by the end of swarming season.

The Flower Show is on at Coorabell Hall on March 14 and 15; Laodekia will be offering visitors ‘a little floral alchemy session’, outlining the healing power of plants.

Theirs is a Bangalow hospitality love story. They met over Corner Kitchen’s coffee machine, where Jack, Bangalow-born and bred, was working as the barista after returning from six years in Brisbane and Melbourne. Sophia, hailing from the café’s namesake suburb of Elwood and raised in country Victoria, was a relatively recent arrival to the area, managing the newly opened Woods. On their very first date they talked of starting their own place.

So when the chance came to take on Burringbar’s only café in 2019, they jumped at it. They loved the village’s old-school charm, which reminded Jack of the Bangalow of his childhood. And it was affordable. “Coming in with a skeleton budget, we felt like it was the last little country town within striking distance where we could dip our toes in and have some fun working together,” he explains.

Hospitality is tough. But for Jack and Sophia, it was a particularly wild ride from the moment they opened the doors. In their first weeks, bushfires came within just a few kilometres of the village, bringing prolonged heavy smoke, ash fall and ember risk, and a steady stream of frazzled evacuees, their cars crammed full of belongings.

Then just four months later, the pandemic was declared, which saw the first-time operators spend the next two years grappling with the challenging logistics of ever-shifting regulations. The silver lining was that with the café as one of the village’s few social hubs, a strong and deep connection was forged between the couple and the community, and they soon relocated to an idyllic rental nearby.

The relief at the ultimate lifting of restrictions in late 2021 was unfortunately short-lived when, again, just four months later, the same weather system that inundated Lismore flooded low-lying parts of Burringbar and brought devastating landslips further up the Range.

Sophia, five months pregnant at the time, found herself stuck on the Gold Coast while visiting her grandmother. Back home, Jack refused to let the four flooded causeways in his path prevent him from opening the doors at Elwood while the town still had power. Once the waters were low enough, he packed a survival kit and made his way on foot to the car they’d left on the other side, even swimming part of the way.

Cut off, the residents rallied, transforming the area around the café into a command post and recovery hub, corralling services and supplies. Amid the crisis, Elwood provided a vital community space – serving some of the most delicious coffees of Jack’s career, thanks to the buckets of fresh Jersey milk delivered by local cheesemaker, Deb Allard.

But again, the dust barely had a chance to settle when, just four months later, on the evening of June 23 2022, with Sophia in the early stages of an overdue labour, Jack’s phone rang. There was a fire at the café.

Sophia’s sister en route, Jack raced into town, arriving just as the battering ram was about to break down the heritage shopfront’s beautiful cedar doors. He rushed to unlock them, and along with most of Burringbar, watched in shock as firefighters brought the blaze under control.

With forensic reports completed and the building deemed safe, Jack was escorted inside, where he retrieved a charred stack of five-dollar notes from the safe. The café was dark and smoky, but he didn’t think it looked too bad. Plans were made to meet the chief fire inspector early the next morning, and he locked the doors behind him and returned home to Sophia, whose labour had stalled in the stress.

After a sleepless night, Jack headed back to the café at 6am, finding the doors smashed wide open. He feared the café had been ransacked, but it was much worse. The fire, thought to have been started by an electrical fault, had reignited in the early hours of the morning. The building was unsalvageable.

Surreal days stretched on, with Sophia becoming increasingly overdue and Jack navigating the gruelling insurance process – which, three years later, is still ongoing – until finally, a week later, daughter Mally was born.

Jack, Sophia and Elwood had become firmly embedded in the tight-knit community, and their absence was felt profoundly. “It’s such an odd thing to experience,” Sophia says. “It was like the loss of a friend. We still have people saying how sad they are it’s not there anymore.” Today, the vacant block remains as a literal hole in the village.

They continued living in Burringbar, but when Jack’s father suffered a debilitating stroke six months later, they returned to the Bangalow family home. After some time to recalibrate, Jack started working at Old Quarter Coffee and Sophia at Harvest, where she remained until baby Miles joined the mix in 2024. “It’s given us all a new perspective,” Jack says of their multi-generational living arrangement. “They support us as much as we support them.”

But Jack and Sophia weren’t done with their dream, or with the community they loved so much – and thanks to an interesting proposal from an old Elwood neighbour, they had a chance to pick up where they left off.

Bron of Natural Wine Shop & Bar was taking over the old laundromat out the back of her store when she approached Jack and Sophia with the idea of sharing the space: their coffee by day, her wine by night. This increasingly popular hybrid hospitality model suited them perfectly.

With no kitchen and an atmospheric fit-out that wouldn’t be out of place in one of Melbourne’s laneways, the space called for a different strategy from last time. And a new identity. “Elwood was a really special time for us,” explains Jack. “We decided to leave the name to rest with the memory of it.”

For Jack and Sophia, ‘Pour Good’ is about being conscious of the entirety of the process behind the cup of coffee in your hands – from cultivation to labour to preparation. If you’re going to drink coffee, make it good.

Underpinned by Old Quarter Coffee, Pour Good showcases different roasters each week, offering a menu of experimental specialty cold pours alongside the classics, and a pastry cabinet stocked with Lehem Breadhouse goodies. They’re open Friday through Monday mornings, with plans for additional days now that Jack is no longer juggling his travelling sales role at Old Quarter.

The demand is certainly there, not only from locals but from the steady stream of visitors the Rail Trail now brings to the area – something Jack and Sophia passionately hope Bangalow will get to experience too, having seen the phenomenal effect it’s had on the Burringbar community. Jack was on the platform the night the last train ran through town. “And we’ll be first in line when the tender goes out for the old Bangalow station!” he says.

@pour.good

29 Broadway, Burringbar

Fri/Sat/Sun/Mon 7.30am – 12.30pm

The evolution of Pearces Creek Hall into a “must play” venue in recent years is an extraordinary development, a resurrection largely due to the efforts of local resident Simon Winfield. The softly-spokenEnglishman doesn’t stand out as someone who has resolved to “go harder” in life – but that is exactly what he has chosen to do: dedicate himself to turning the tiny heritage hall into a vibrant, and sustainable, cultural hub.

Since 2019, Simon has raised funds, booked performers, MC’d shows and, as café loungers in Bangalow’s high street can testify, posted concert fliers wherever there’s a space.

He’s a ball of calm, can-do energy, committed not only to the hall but also to its natural and social environment. The hall’s presentations come mainly in the form of roots music – folk, country, bluegrass – but it is also building a solid track record as a centre for the dissemination of progressive ideas, everything from regen agriculture to the use of sound as a tool for healing.

An increasing awareness about health and longevity helped to concentrate Simon’s mind further, he says, “because you realise you don’t know what your life expectancy is, right? I’m not saying that negatively; it’s just a reminder that you’re not going to live forever, and a stimulus to live more fully.”

Born in England, Simon lived in Africa and Europe for his first 14 years, then went to boarding school in Britain, followed by a career in finance in London and New York. When he and his wife, Jen, and their three young children travelled the world in 2003 they came across Byron Shire. The memory stayed with them and four years later they came back.

They rented homes in Bexhill, then Clunes and Bangalow before settling in Pearces Creek. The children attended Bangalow PS and Byron High, and both parents got involved – “the usual things, like the P&C, the school canteen stuff,” Simon says.

“What I loved about the schools in this area was that you could get involved; it’s encouraged, and it’s part of your contribution, and a great way to meet people. The volunteer aspect of this country is incredible in whatever form it might take, whether you’re looking after Heritage House or, you know, working on the local paper.”

Volunteering seems part of his DNA: he has also signed up to help at the Writers Festival for the past eight years.

Their Pearces Creek home sits on 30 acres and as the “the house and child person” with a wife busy with full-time studies, Simon was keen to learn about how to best manage the land. “I hadn’t a clue about anything,” he says, so he set about finding out, at numerous field days, agricultural studies at SCU and Wollongbar TAFE and an “absolutely fascinating” trip to (Natural Sequence Farming movement founder) Peter Andrews’ place near Canberra.

Simon credits his commitment to reviving the hall to his interest in land management. He understood that as someone who was “basically an immigrant who’s worked in an office for 25 years” – he couldn’t lean over the fence and say to the third or fifth generation farmer ‘have you thought about doing it this way?’

“So we invited Brian Wehlberg, the holistic management and regenerative ag educator, to the hall to do a talk, and it was very well attended.” Since then, they have hosted 16 talks, with artists, foragers, farmers, nearly all of them connected with the land and environment, attended by about 1000 people altogether.

While his hopes of creating a viable alternative farm have not been realised (“because I haven’t put in the physical labour”) their property has seen a huge increase in biodiversity, and the hall has similarly thrived.

By 2019, the hall was in decline: there was no money in the kitty and the committee was looking for new people and new ideas. Simon felt the community needed a hall and had an obligation to make it viable.

They ran a raffle and raised $3000, applied for government grants, held craft markets and, when a speaker dropped out, invited Immortal Soils’ Bob Horan and Selena Murray to stage one of their large-scale botanical art installations, which opened up the possibilities for the space.

Musical events followed, and the confidence felt by the team of enthusiastic volunteers to stage such acts grew – as did the hall’s reputation among performers as a terrific venue. Musicians, it seems, love to play there: it’s intimate, a haven apart from the busy world. “They also love being welcomed; and so does the audience. They love the food, and having a cup of tea and a piece of homemade cake.”

Above all, it’s a true listening space, where the music is the focus, and the audiences are attentive, appreciative. World-class bluegrass band Midnight Chicken declined the offer of moving the benches out for the second half, so people could dance. “They go, ‘no, we don’t want dancing. We want listening audiences’.”

The hall best suits acoustic acts, with complex harmonies and a close connection with the audience: “We ask all our musicians to play at least one song with no electronic sound, and ideally down off the stage,” Simon says.

At the first gig in 2026, bluegrass quartet Charley Castle and the Boys in the Well did just that, closing their show with a four-part a cappella rendition of Goodnight Irene that had some in the audience reaching for their hankies.

Local musicians are encouraged too. Hootenanny Highway, Will Hearn and Tara-Lee Byrne have recently used the hall for rehearsals, recording and performances.

Honey and Silk play on the first Saturday of this month, and another country duo, Wicker Suite, appear the following weekend – part of a tour in which they’re just playing country halls. Interspersed with the music there is a launch of Ian Kirkland’s book Booyong and Pearces Creek District – Part of the Big Scrub and cellist and sonic alchemist Tara-Lee is returning with her CELLOFINITY – a cello sound bath, where participants lie on the floor to soak up the chakra-healing reverberation of the music.

To an audience member, it feels as if the hall’s growing success is not only due to Simon’s enthusiasm as a promoter but also to his passion for such concepts, and for this kind of music.

“There is a selfish side to it,” he admits. “The musicians I book are a reflection of my tastes. But I don’t want it to be just my taste. And the same with the talks. I want to have a product that people can take somewhere else or use. There’s no point in me doing it if it can’t … if it doesn’t have a life after me.”

Known officially as The Bangalow Show Society Secretary, Anne has been a local for a very long time. All her life, in fact. “I am the fifth generation of my family here,” she says proudly.

Growing up she was always involved in the Federal rural youth program and Bangalow Show in one form or another. She and her 10 siblings have all volunteered, helped out or competed in events at the Show over the years, Mum.

Anne says that “when I was growing up, Mum was always in the Moller Pavilion, helping with the luncheon.” Her father always competed, she says. “We still have a photo of Dad winning a ribbon on the back of a horse from when he was maybe 13-years-old.”

Anne moved away but after a 20-year break raising her family, she and her husband Paul decided to make the change back to Bangalow in 2012.

Not long after returning, she was roped into the role of secretary by her brother Michael O’Meara, who was a previous Show President and still part of the commitee.

That was six years ago, and Anne says she has never looked back but adds “if I had known just how much work was involved, I may have never started!” It’s a demanding role, and though Anne says she will always want to be involved, in the future “maybe not as heavily, as from July it can be hard to get time away to visit family or go on holidays as much as I would like.”

Next year she is due to welcome her second grandchild and would love to be able to spend more time with family.

Paul is one of Anne’s biggest supporters, usually taking the Friday of the Show off work so he can be there for Anne, helping set up, carrying out odd jobs, and doing everything he can to make sure the Show is a success.

The lead-up to the Show is in full swing by this time of year, early November, which Anne enjoys but says can be pretty intense: “Coming up to Show week there’s so much prep. From the beginning of October, I spend most of my time doing general admin, including printing all of the schedules for the Show in-house, replying to emails, making sure everyone who needs to be updated stays updated, and keeping up with the Show’s socials.

You may think that when the Show is done, the work is also done, but you would be mistaken. “In reality, work goes on nearly up to Christmas: my main focus is still the Show; there is still a lot to be done, including the collecting of pavilion entries and prize money, any paperwork that is still to be completed, as well as an evaluation of how everything went so that the committee can be prepared and make next year’s event as good as it possibly can be.”

“During the whole process I work very closely with the Bangalow Show President Donna Jenna and the Society’s treasurer, Lois East; without them the workload would be insurmountable,” Anne says.

“Even though there is a lot of work involved and I usually miss most of the event, I still find it very rewarding.”

Her favourite part of the Show is seeing the great excitement of the kids and young families taking part.

“They are all so excited to enter into the Show and be part of everything; seeing just how excited they get when they’ve won a prize and just how proud they are of their work. All they want to do is show you. It’s like their excitement rubs off on you.”

Despite his comparatively late start, once the passion for the instrument was ignited, Malik began to practise with a “ferocious enthusiasm” says his mother, Ambyr, and in a very short time he has come a long way, creating a serious future for himself.

Malik Traki Johnston (or Malik Sofian, his middle name and Insta identity) is not a typical 17-year-old, and his development as a pianist has not been conventional. For a start, growing up, he didn’t have much interest in music, and was even confused about why other kids liked it at all: “I’d see them listening to various genres like metal or rock or rap music, and I just never liked it to any degree. And I thought myself rather strange for that.”

The only music he could relate to was in films, such as ‘The Imperial March’ in Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back, “so I guess that was a sign I’m more aligned to dramatic classical music”, he says.

He listens to more music now and has multiple playlists featuring many different genres. Classical is the foundation, then jazz, from early 20th century through to Charlie Parker.

His favourite jazz pianist is Oscar Peterson, for his virtuosity. “He’s incredible. His fingers are just so nimble and he can create a thunderstorm of sound.” That word again.

Another unusual feature of Malik’s development was how his ability to play outstripped his theoretical understanding, as Ambyr explains: “Many gifted kids learn from when they’re two or three or four; they learn to play and learn music at the same time. But Malik became quite advanced in his playing before he ever learned how to read music.”

When Malik met his first teacher, Bangalow’s Linda Armstrong, a little over four years ago, “he didn’t even want to look at the music”, she says. “We were starting from scratch, the very basics.”

But Malik knew what he wanted to play, and he has a “fantastic ear”, she says. “He can listen to the music and then hear if he’s doing it right. He picked it up so quickly. And he has an amazing memory.”

“The hardest piece I’ve ever played, I learned by ear,” Malik says. The piece, Liszt’s ‘La Campanella’, requires an astoundingly brisk allegretto tempo and is famously difficult.

But when he knew that he wanted music to be his life, he caught up with the theory, and in 2023 learnt to read music in nine months; in 2024 he was awarded the Licentiate Diploma of Music Performance (LMus) with honours from St Cecilia – signifying a high level of musical performance, achieved through rigorous practical and theoretical assessments.

Some of this commitment was due to the influence of his second teacher, Mark Hooper, in Brisbane, who insists his students study the sheet music: “What is the music telling you?” he asks them. “That’s the best connection you have to what was in the composer’s mind.”

Malik says: “It’s a privilege to be able to be in a position where you can express the music, absolutely. That makes you a real musician, in a way. As Mark says: ‘An amateur uses the music to express their feelings, and a professional uses their feelings to express the music’.”

To pursue his interest in jazz, Malik studies with Nick Campbell at the Lismore Conservatorium, where he had a scholarship for two years, the first through the Con itself, the second through the Harmony Fund, established by local identity (and music lover) Vicky Brooke.

Along with determination and a phenomenal memory, Malik possesses another distinctive quality, Linda says. “If he loves a piece of music and wants to learn it, he researches it – learns how old the composer was when they wrote it, and if they’d had their heart broken, and so on, and he wants to play with the same feeling the composer had when it was written, which I see as a very adult concept.”

Malik began homeschooling with Ambyr in 2022, after a few unsettled years of high school. He attended several over the years but, as he told The Piano presenter, Amanda Keller, “I did not fit in at school. A lot of people probably thought I was weird, but I see myself as a very shy kid, and self-critical”.

Homeschooling allowed him to prioritise the piano over other studies but he has returned to high school, at Cape Byron Steiner, to do his HSC. He plans on enrolling for a Bachelor of Music Performance next year, ideally in Melbourne, and is looking forward to the cold and the grey: it’s that romantic temperament emerging again – the drama of stormy skies.

But there is another side to this tendency too: “With Liszt, like the other Romantics, there’s the very virtuosic thing, all the drama and the showmanship, which I’ve always loved, and then the contrast – a very delicate, gentle side, which a lot of people maybe didn’t see in him when he was alive. There’s an emotional quality about it, reflective,” he says.

It could almost be a description of himself: with his wild hair and velvet jackets he looks, and plays, like a romantic hero, blowing listeners away with his bravura performances. But behind this is a sensitive and vulnerable young man, someone for whom, as he revealed in The Piano, music signifies hope. Succeeding with the piano has taught him that he can tackle difficulties in other areas of his life, he said.

Malik says The Piano was a great experience, especially meeting other pianists and piano enthusiasts, and it was likely a big confidence booster too, judging by the reception he received: the Beethoven piece is “one of the most deceptively difficult pieces in the repertoire and especially for someone with three-and-a-half years of piano playing”, said international star Andrea Lam.

“Unbelievably impressive”, was Harry Connick Jnr’s verdict of the performance.

The experience also proved cathartic: “Before the piano I was very angry,” he tells Amanda Keller. “Now I can channel my emotions through the music, the good and the bad. The piano is joy, kindness, struggle, hope, strength and despair. You can really tell a story through the music, and make people understand.”

The Brunswick Heads concert was just the latest in a series of successful appearances: At the invitation of White Rabbit Gallery owner Judith Neilson, he performed an hour-long recital at a venue called The Church, in Alexandria, eight pieces altogether.

He also played at the Bangalow Chamber Music Festival, and had lessons with one of the Festival’s stars – the terrifyingly gifted Konstantin Shamray at a piano intensive in Armidale.

“Last year Konstantin played, out of the blue, ‘La Valse’ by Ravel, and almost blew the ceiling off,” Malik recalls. “It was insane. The sound he creates is just like what I said about Oscar Petersen in the thunderstorm. Just like that, but on drugs.

“That is my ultimate mood. I want to replicate that. I want to give my audience that kind of transcendent experience.”