A few months ago, the “ping” of a TikTok notification or a Snapchat streak was the heartbeat of our social lives. Since the Federal Government’s ban on under-16s accessing certain social media platforms hit the headlines, the adults have done most of the talking.

But what about the people actually living through it? As someone who falls into this age bracket, I wanted to go beyond politics and see how the ban is changing the day-to-day lives of my peers. Did teenage life really change? Have the so-called “addictive” apps become non-existent for everyone under the age of 16, or are adults imagining a bigger shift than what is actually happening? I caught up with 10 of my contemporaries to talk about their “old” habits, their first reaction to the news, and what they’ve gained or lost since the ban came into effect.

For some students, the ban barely registered as a major change. Jake (15) explained that social media was never central to his routine. He mainly used his phone for communicating with his friends, learning gym routines and looking at recipes, and said he “didn’t really care” when the ban was introduced because he didn’t use any of the restricted apps. Jake continues to communicate through WhatsApp and normal messaging, demonstrating that for some teenagers, friendships were never dependent on traditional social media platforms in the first place.

Others experienced the ban more negatively. Brooke (15) said she “spent quite a lot of time” on Instagram before the restrictions began, originally using it to stay connected with friends before becoming absorbed in trends and entertainment. Although she felt “shocked” when she heard the news, she also stated that she “completely understood why it was being enforced”. She believes the policy fell flat in its implementation, explaining that “most people my age found easy ways around it”.

Banjo (14) offered a more positive perspective. Before the ban, he mainly used WhatsApp and YouTube to organise plans and stay included socially. Unlike expectations that teenagers would strongly resist the change, Banjo said he was “pretty happy” when he first heard about the restrictions because he believed they could help people step away from social media addiction and participate more in real life. While his own routine did not change dramatically, he noticed friends spending less time scrolling and more time communicating through group chats instead of social media.

Despite the intention of the ban, several teenagers said enforcement had been difficult. Some had created new accounts or moved to different platforms. Banjo supported this idea, noting that “people are leaving Snapchat and TikTok etc. and participating more in real life”, but added that “the ban isn’t working as effectively as it should, and many kids are still on social media from my experience”. Similarly, Brooke suggested the policy had changed access rather than stopped usage.

Sadie (14) described a very different experience. As a frequent social media user, using the platforms “every chance I could get”, Sadie relied on TikTok, YouTube and Instagram for entertainment and connection. She said she felt “very annoyed” when the restrictions were announced, worried about missing out socially. Although she sometimes felt on the “outside” of friend groups after losing complete access to shared trends, she also noticed unexpected positives. Like Willow (13), who supports the ban despite never having social media, Sadie observed friends communicating more face to face and found herself watching more shows and even reading more books, something she “would never expect” from herself.

Koa (13) and Tyrese (13) revealed how varied teenage experiences have been at the younger end of the age bracket. Koa had not engaged with social media before the ban due to parental rules but said it made him “more determined to get on social media” after his friends demonstrated ways around it, arguing the policy was “not well thought through”. In contrast, for Tyrese, who uses Snapchat and TikTok to talk to friends, the ban made little difference. He said that “nothing happened to me” when it came into effect. Their experiences show that for some the ban backfired by fuelling curiosity, while others simply didn’t care about the age restrictions.

One interesting pattern that became evident from the interviews was that many teenagers had restrictions in place at home before the official ban. Several respondents said their parents had already had a big influence on their activity, setting rules around phone use, app downloads and device access. As Jake says: “I didn’t lose anything because I only recently got a phone at 14,” which indicates that some teens were only just beginning to build phone habits anyway. Across the board, it seemed that younger teens were receiving phones later than their older siblings. Overall, it appears that parental control, specifically monitoring phone access, has shaped teens’ experiences more than the legislation itself.

Since the ban came into effect, it’s clear that social media was more than just an assortment of apps on a phone; it shaped how we stayed connected, shared our lives and filled in the gaps of everyday conversation. Across all interviews, a clear pattern emerged. While adults often described the ban as a dramatic shift in teenage culture, many young people simply adapted. For some, the change has felt frustrating and sudden, while for others it has brought unexpected positives such as more face-to-face time and less pressure online. Meanwhile, many teens were unaffected due to parental policies already in place.

From the data, it’s clear the teens who have lost access do want it back. However, what is more telling is that parents are more alert, aware and protective of their children. So the question arises: was the ban for the benefit of teenagers, or was it more of an educational wake-up call to parents?

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

Ethereal. Fantastical. Spellbinding. While wandering through the Bangalow home and studio of artist Hilary Herrmann, I feel as though I have stepped into the very same enchanting world that her paintings inhabit. Eclectic artworks decorate the walls; finished canvases line the floors and sit on chairs; books of all kinds spill out of shelves; and paint-stained brushes, palette knives and tins cover the outdoor studio table, ready to be used. It’s as if, turning the corner, one of the whimsical characters Hilary paints might be floating through the lush garden or peacefully mixing paints on the verandah – and I would not be surprised.

With an utterly distinct visual style and an expansive imagination, Hilary uses her brush to build whimsical worlds that transport the viewer into a surreal reality and invite them to dream, play and reflect. I had the pleasure of asking Hilary about her art, creative process and influences as she worked on her latest piece.

How would you describe your artistic style and the meaning behind your work?

I paint narratives of spooky little white figures that float through the sky. I think they are emotional landscapes, where you can enter into the world and bring in your own stories. [My work] is very ephemeral and enigmatic, and I like that other people find their own story within it.

They’re about the everyday. It’s about hope, it’s about trust, and also about the menace that approach our worlds. A lot of my work is just about hope and kindness. We don’t know what’s around any corner, or who we will be, and what will happen to us.

It’s about whatever enters my world. If it’s music or poetry, birds in my bird bath, my dog, a bunch of flowers, reading, from the news… whatever I can appropriate from others, I will take. I think the intimacy of being at home, home life and domesticity is really important. Rituals and routines make us sane. So, it’s about the everyday and finding beauty in it to protect ourselves and feel safe.

Crowns seem to be a motif in your work. Can you explain the significance and symbolism behind this creative choice?

You don’t want to be dismissed as a human. We all need to be appreciated, and I think the gold crowns represent that we’ve all got something to offer and are all a bit special. The crowns represent that we all just need to be part of the world and allowed.

The idea has developed and they don’t feel dressed without a crown now. I think everyone needs a little crown to feel like they exist in the world. We shouldn’t be diminished – we should be part of the world.

Not the show pony, not the most important person in the room, just that people acknowledge us. Just to make us feel a wee bit important. 

Now, even when they don’t need one, I still put it on because they don’t feel dressed without it. 

Where do you find inspiration, and what influences you creatively? 

Everywhere. It’s walking along the road and seeing the colour of a leaf. Every day I walk on the beach, and the horizons remind me of Rothko. I admire that work. This morning the clouds looked like Turner’s paintings – absolutely beautiful. 

I look at art books every day. I am always flicking through and being inspired by so many other people in the world. I just find things that amuse me or disgust me and they become part of the story that I want to communicate to others and myself. 

I really like Clarice Beckett, Idris Murphy, Rembrandt, Cy Twombly, Chagall… there are hundreds of people I’m inspired by – a multitude of people. It’s lovely going into galleries, because I live regionally. When I go to Sydney and Melbourne or to Europe, you see what exists out there. Art is a communication. Either of beauty or of politics, story, or talent. It’s just communication. 

Take us into your creative process. 

There are some people that “grid up” and they’ve got an image of what they want to do from when they begin, and they’ve got the skills to do that. Whereas I don’t have those skills, so I’ve always got to find an aesthetic to make things work on a different level. 

I start with a feeling, a word, or an emotion. As soon as I make the first mark, I have faith in just responding to what happens. I think it’s about just reaching an aesthetic for me at the end. 

This painting that I’m working on now, I really like it at this point. It’s interesting. I don’t know where it’s going but I like the beginning of it…until I don’t! 

So it’s about risk for me. A lot of people don’t have that ability to take risks. You have to let go of stuff to make it work. 

I like the intelligence of paint. I really like that you spend time, and it’s communicating, and you’re working out all the time where it’s going, what to do with it, how to finish it, and when it’s finished. There are just a lot of conversations. 

What has your artistic journey been like? Have you always created art? 

I used to do a lot more cartoons and sort of funny little drawings. The skills had never been there technically, but it has always been something I’ve played with since I was in my 20s, I guess. 

I have always played – even when I worked and wasn’t producing work to put in galleries. I had textas, pencils, paints. But it wasn’t until I was probably 40, when my daughter was at school and I had more time, and I decided if I actually wanted to put my art into the world then I had to actually do it all the time. 

It’s a discipline. You have to do it. You can’t talk about it, you actually have to do it. Things develop because you make mistakes and you learn…hopefully. 

Find Hilary’s work at Ninbella (Bangalow), AK Bellinger Gallery (Inverell), Grainger Gallery (Fyshwick), and OTOMYS (Prahran). @hilaryherrmann 

Dad is local filmmaker Mark Lewis, a 40-year industry veteran who is acclaimed for his witty, off-the-wall documentaries, most famously his 1988 study of cane toads that highlighted the more cuddly qualities of the reviled amphibian.

His daughter is Los Angeles-based Molly Lewis, perhaps the world’s most famous whistler, a winner of international competitions, who has performed alongside musicians from Dr Dre to Jackson Browne, and is a recording artist in her own right. She opened for Beck on his recent American tour, collaborated with Mark Ronson and Andrew Wyatt on the Barbie soundtrack, whistling Billie Eilish’s What Was I Made For?, and fronts lavish gala dinners for the likes of Hermes, Chanel and Gucci. In 2017, by special request, she whistled Danny Boy and Just a Closer Walk with Thee for Harry Dean Stanton as he lay on his deathbed.

Mark is a member of the judging panel for the festival’s inaugural Green Frame Nature Documentary Award – Australia’s first prize dedicated exclusively to environmentally aware films; Molly will play a more visible part, both onscreen, in the opening night film, Whistle, and in a live demonstration of her spellbinding skills.
Watching, or rather, hearing her perform – evoking the haunting soundtracks in the spaghetti westerns of Ennio Morricone – will alone be worth the price of a ticket.

The presence of the two at the festival was purely coincidental, taking even director Christian Pazzaglia by surprise – and delighting him.

“I’m a big believer in this kind of serendipity,” he says. “I love it when things like this happen. It’s a beautiful thing.”

Mark is a Northern Rivers local of more than 30 years standing, and three-time Emmy winner. Many of his myriad documentary films are about nature: his first, Cane Toads: An Unnatural History, was nominated for a BAFTA Film Award for Best Short Film and was for years one of Australia’s top grossing documentaries. It established his international reputation and ushered in a rich and productive career, but its success has also been something of a burden.

Displaying the irony and understatement that characterises his films, Mark says: “Unfortunately, ‘Cane Toads’ is now my middle name.” He has made many films since then, he reports, but it’s the toads everyone remembers.

Despite his output, he is uncomfortable with the description ‘documentary filmmaker’: “You know, my documentaries are fairly different. Nature films have tended to be very conventional, and mine are not conventional in any respect, including the fact that they’re mostly about the human-animal connection.
A few of them are from the point of view of the animal.”

Cane Toads used cameras that were mostly on the ground, looking up at the human interview subjects, and straight on at the toad, giving the species a lot of respect. Yet, despite supposedly being about cane toads, it is really about people, including plenty who admire and even love the animal; their stories are endearing and at times hilarious.

High-brow commentator Elizabeth Farrelly said the film’s approach revealed a filmmaker who loved Australianness “but could also, without slapstick or condescension, take the piss”.

The opening night film, Whistle, made by Aussie Christopher Nelius, shares the same uniquely Australian flavour, both funny and generous spirited.

Christian says when he saw the film last year he thought it would be perfect for opening night at the Bangalow festival, “because I wanted something uplifting, something light.

“I think we’re all quite stressed out these days, and to be honest, people don’t want to see more of it.
“We want to start on a high note, and to close on one,” (with Gaucho Gaucho, a romantic celebration of the cowboys and girls of the pampas).

Whistle is in the vein of Best in Show, documenting an eccentric group of international whistlers, Molly Lewis among them, as they descend on Hollywood to compete in the Masters of Musical Whistling, the world’s most prestigious whistling competition.

Molly is now perhaps the most successful among them. Mark says proudly of his daughter, “she’s a genre of one. Extraordinarily successful. She’s a professional whistler, and maybe the only one”.

Molly’s ability is all her own, Mark says: “I can’t whistle to save myself, I’ve got two left feet, can’t dance, can’t sing, can’t play any instruments. But she was the opposite.” At a very young age she was astonishing dinner guests with her ability. 

Christian has an idea to have a whistling competition during the festival, and have Bangalow residents whistling for days during and after the event. Naturally, Molly would be the judge: a panel of one. 

The Green Frame Award has been a couple of years in the making, Christian says – and was inspired by the fact that Bangalow has proved “a good home” for environmental and nature films over the festival’s history. 

“And we just wanted to go a step further, not only in terms of showing them or giving a bit of money to a winner, but really as a method of getting more people to make these kind of films. Nature docs, environmental films, are really magical in the way that they empower viewers; they bring you closer to nature and you feel emphatically motivated to do something about these issues. The award gives them a spotlight.” 

Next year he wants to double the impact, with a three-day industry forum, where “filmmakers, producers, philanthropists, government bodies, everyone, can come and help grow the genre” and help put Bangalow on the national map. 

“We’re so lucky around here, that in the hills and on the coast there’s so many amazing filmmakers, photographers, producers that are already producing some of the best work we make in Australia, but there’s no connection. We don’t know they’re there. So this is a way also to bring everything together.” 

One of these amazing artists he also learned about serendipitously, through chatting to a friend who happened to mention his brother was Jono Allen. 

“Jono Allen! who just won the biggest prize in the world for nature photography (the 2026 World Nature Photographer of the Year Gold Prize and Grand Jury Prize). I couldn’t believe it. And he lives in Byron!” Jono is now on the Green Frame jury alongside filmmaker Molly Reynolds (My Name is Gulpilil), long-time Sir David Attenborough collaborator Chadden Hunter, and screen academic Anne Chesher. 

In choosing the five nature films, Christian says he wanted to give a sense of how diverse both nature and the style of making nature documentaries can be. 

As a judge, Mark will be looking closely at how the filmmakers use all the different elements at their disposal: the soundtrack, the music, the direction, the camera work. And, of course, an approach that shuns conventionality. 

bangalowfilmfestival.com.au 

“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

If the floods shocked the community at large, they were devastating for those whose property was destroyed or damaged. Some Bangalow residents had more than 30cm of water come through their houses, damaging flooring, appliances and possessions, while others experienced flooding in under-

house storage rooms and workshops, with thousands of dollars’ worth of damage to tools and equipment.

As always, 2479 residents stepped up to help in the aftermath, putting in hours of work to clean, dry and help dispose of damaged goods. Friends, family and community members turned up with gloves, squeegees, fans and dehumidifiers, gurneys and wet/dry vacuum cleaners, along with much-needed sustenance in the form of tea, coffee, biscuits, brownies, sandwiches and pizza to fuel the workers.

The role of the Bangalow Resilience Network

During the Friday 13th flash flooding the Bangalow Resilience Network (BRN) worked alongside the community, using our training and equipment to help clean-up efforts on the ground and calling in support via social media, in particular the Bangalow Community and Beyond Facebook page.

With many of our members trained as Community Carers and Responders (CCRs), we were able to put our skills in emergency communications, first aid, psychological first aid and disaster resilience planning to use as we supported the emergency response. We were also able to draw on the wider regional network of trained CCRs through Plan C’s CCR WhatsApp group and Facebook page. Requests to this network were answered quickly and helped support the clean-up efforts with both hands-on and remote contributions.

“A dramatic and fast-moving weather event like this,” says the BRN’s Vice-President Jo Palser, “may not need a physical hub to facilitate coordination of helpers, like we had in 2022, but what we can do is to get the word out so that people affected by the disaster get the help they need as soon as possible.” The advantage of this approach is that it helps link up affected families with the exact equipment, or helpers with particular skills, that they need. Because every disaster is different, and people will quite often be affected in different ways in the same disaster, it can be really helpful to have a trusted source to spread the word.

“The BRN is connected to Council’s recovery team and the shire-wide network of resilience volunteers. This team activates in declared natural emergencies and other widespread severe events. The system relies on having local volunteers who are on the ground to gather information and others with mobile or internet connectivity to enable them to publish updates on Facebook where possible.”

The BRN wants to extend our network of volunteers to build up strong local communications across 2479 neighbourhoods, so we are well placed for any new events.

One silver lining of the event is increased community awareness about the risks of flooding in Bangalow, which many new arrivals have understandably assumed to be less at risk than other towns in the region. But as long-time locals know, parts of Bangalow such as Deacon St and the sports fields have always flooded. With climate change making rainfall events more intense and less predictable, it is likely that going forward we will experience flooding in places that have not flooded before. Indeed, the Friday 13th flooding took place just a week after the Byron Shire Council released a flood study on the town that warned of the risks to the town of both riverine and overland flooding. The fact that floodwaters could rise as quickly as they did after only several hours of intense rain, and in a much less dramatic ‘wet season’ than we’ve had in previous years, points to the unpredictability of the situation we are now facing.

We at the BRN extend our sympathy and best wishes to all those affected by the flooding, and our gratitude to those who took part in the community response. We hope that more community members will come and join us before the next disaster, or even make contact by sending us an email or following our Facebook page.

Who are the Bangalow Resilience Network?

We are a group of 11 financial members who live in the 2479 postcode, with a wider network of around 30 people on our mailing list.

Our goal is to empower Bangalow’s response to natural emergencies by being organised, sharing knowledge, creating strong connections and taking collaborative action.

In disasters, we aim to connect with people on the ground and keep the wider community informed through our Facebook page, reaching out to our wider networks (like the CCR network, the Byron Shire Community Hubs network and the Byron Shire Community Resilience Network) and our contacts at combat agencies such as the SES, RFS, Fire and Rescue NSW and the Byron Shire Council.

We draw on our relationships with local groups such as the CWA, Men’s Shed, Showground Committee, the Opp Shop and the Lions Club to help organise the volunteer disaster response and recovery, and have, over the past two and a half years, been slowly building an inventory of equipment including a generator, a Starlink unit with battery charger, plus 30 CB radios and three base stations.

However, our capacity to show up, gather information and communicate, and to liaise with our contacts is limited by our numbers, so please consider joining!

For more information or to be added to our emergency WhatsApp group (activated only in times of disaster), please send us an email at bangalowresiliencenetwork@gmail.com

Claire McLisky

Bangalow Resilience Network

“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.

How long have you been running Two-Up in Bangalow, and what exactly is your role in the ring?
I’ve run the Two-Up for 25 years at the Bangalow Hotel, the Bangalow Bowlo and now at the Bangalow Lions Club Bar and BBQ Kiosk at the Showgrounds. I’m the ‘Boxer’ and the ‘Centre Banker’, so I run the Two-Up School and cover the centre bet from the spinner, who must try and throw heads of course. ‘Cowboy Olly’ from Eureka is the ‘Ringer’, he supervises the penny spins and holds the centre bet, and ‘Bangalow Maxy’ is ‘Penciller’, recording the next up spinner and the heads or tails results. It works out pretty even on the day most years.

For someone who’s never seen it before, what makes the Bangalow Two-Up School special?
It’s quite a colourful old-school experience for the many visitors in town on the day, and especially tourists from abroad who have never seen anything like it. Of course it’s unique to Australia, it has some measure of crude Aussie charm and that’s why we do it every year. It’s not something you can replicate or package up, it just happens organically with the crowd, the calls, the laughter and the odd groan when the pennies land the wrong way.

Why is it important to keep this tradition going?
There are a few reasons, but the main one is respect for Australian tradition and heritage, respect for ANZAC Day and to preserve the memories of Aussie diggers who fought and died for our country. Secondly, it’s a good fun old-school pastime and has to be the fairest form of light gambling imaginable, heads or tails, that’s pretty simple. Thirdly: it allows Bangalow Lions to raise funds for our local relevant charities, so it’s a fun community day for Bangalow with a bit of purpose behind it.

You mentioned ANZAC Day – what does the day mean to you personally?
My own forebears fought in the Great War, WWII and Vietnam and they all despised the conflict, the death, the destruction and abhorred the futility of war, but they all marched on ANZAC Day to remember their mates, those that made it and those that didn’t. It’s important that our children understand and respect our country’s history and the raison d’être for Australia’s ANZAC Day on 25 April every year. It’s not just a piss up, it means something. It’s important to Australia and Australians, and Kiwis of course.

There’s a strong community element to the day as well – who benefits from the funds raised?
We will split any and all proceeds on the day between Lions for Legacy, The Younger Heroes and Bangalow Red Cross, who all do such a wonderful job of supporting the families of veterans. They deserve our support on ANZAC Day in particular. We will shake the donation bucket every 10 spins and encourage folks to throw in a few bob each time. The obvious winners will receive a lot more encouragement, that’s for sure.

Some people might think it’s just about the gambling – how do you see it?
It’s not really that much about the gambling at all, we don’t play for sheep stations. I’m happy not to win or lose on the day and for everybody to have a laugh and enjoy themselves and each others’ company. It’s more about the atmosphere, the connection, and doing something together that’s been part of Australian life for a long time.

It’s actually only legal in NSW once a year on ANZAC Day, 25 April, and I think that’s just perfect. We’re allowed to start the game earlier in the day but I think 2–6pm is quite enough. It’s bloody exhausting bouncing around the ring like a clown. And we don’t need to overdo the gambling side of things; we want everyone to leave happy and have enjoyed their once-a-year Bangalow Two-Up School experience.

How does the day fit into the wider ANZAC Day events in Bangalow?
It’s important to connect and participate in the ANZAC Day March down Byron Street and the Bangalow RSL Hall ceremony. That’s what anchors the day. The Two-Up comes after that, and it’s all part of remembering and respecting the reasons for ANZAC Day while bringing people together in a way that feels natural and local.

What would you say to someone thinking about coming along for the first time?
It’s a fun day really for the Bangalow community with a subtle but solemn purpose of preserving ANZAC Day traditions and heritage, supporting our local charities and bringing people together for good old-fashioned Aussie community spirit. Come along, bring a few bucks and good vibes, and you’ll understand what it’s all about pretty quickly. See you at the Two-Up.

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