Situated at the end of a long sweeping bay, the township of BYRON BAY boasts 30km of almost unbroken sandy beaches. Formerly a working-class coastal town of dilapidated weatherboard cottages, best known for its abattoir, it's now a thriving resort, first discovered by the surfies, then the hippies and more recently by better-heeled travellers - these days Byron is as much of a "must do" on the backpacker circuit as the Whitsundays and Uluru. In summer it can seem like Sydney-by-the-sea, as half of Paddington and Darlinghurst arrive en masse, fleeing the city only to form another urban jungle further up the coast. It's a pity, because what once made the place special - the small-community feel, the free-for-all atmosphere, the barefoot hippies and the herbalists - is fast disappearing. Byron these days is still beautiful and undeniably good fun, but the ever-encroaching chain stores and the profusion of competing tie-dye therapies combine to make it, in summertime at least, about as subversively alternative as MTV.