Byron Bay. A slice of heaven that just keeps opening new french doors. It's my May pilgrimage each year, gradually increasing in duration and after this last 9 day stay I had eyes on more. Of course the ocean swim and triathlon on consecutive weekends do nothing to lessen the aesthetic appeal of fellow visitors. But it's not all sunshine and abs. There are races to be done, pain to be struggled through, though the swim race was cancelled at the 11th hour - with competitors literally lined up at the start. The triathlon was not, and after a series of rather successful races ending in Byron, I was quite glad to be able to hang up my racing shoes for a few months. Focus on the trees rather than the forest, or something like that. In fact I'm now in the middle of a year so far drenched with specialist visits and procedures. The fittest I've been and also the sickest. Life is just like the ocean, painfully beautiful and unpredictable. But Byron remains predictably sleepy, beautiful and bathed in backpackers from heaven, sprinkled with triathlete gods and spiced with a hip alternative vibe. I'm going back again and again and again.