Here´s one of our nicer random detours that the majority of travellers don´t opt for. Read about Maclean, a little town founded by Scots immigrants, and it sounds nice enough. Add it to our schedule and we get off the bus there....the driver says he is willing to drop us off at Yamba, wherever that is. Surprise him by advising this is where we want to be, want to check out the Scots-Oz charm. Slightly surprised to find, or not find, anything of note here. A man in a kilt on a mural here, some tartan there. One, very small street with some shops and a cafe....with a killer breakfast! Yum. But that´s it. Even the tourist office is a mile out of town. So there we were for the day, no pickup until the evening and our backpacks getting heavier all the time.
By chance we poke our head in to the nearby travel agents, they laugh at the fact that we elected to visit here and agree wholeheartedly about the lack of anything to see or do. A very friendly lady suggests catching a bus down to Yamba....where?....just along the way, even offers to look after our bags in the office, even though we´d get back after closing time. She volunteers one of her colleagues to work late. Gives us a bus timetable...and we are away....to Yamba....and how cool that we went.
Yamba is tiny, a collection of shops, cafes and a brand new YHA...go there to ask advice on what´s what, get the mick taken out of us for not coming to visit/stay there. Regret immediately that we didn´t. Nice beaches, decent surfing etc. etc.
We spend the day in Yamba, again following advice from the friendly travel agent lady, sampling a couple of pies, taking in the cliff views from the hotel on the hill, and generally appreciating how pleasant the place is. But the road was calling. We caught the latest bus back we could to Maclean, got our bags from the closed travel agents, hopped the Greyhound and motored on to Byron Bay with dreams of what could have been. Ah, Yamba. Stop....Yamba-time.