Travel: Nimbin

My recent visit to Nimbin left me highly unsettled - if I'd stayed the night there I have no doubt it would have ended much lik a Lovecraftian nightmare.

Nimbin is an aberrence in space in time as it links the free-spirited sixties together with a dystopian parallel future wherein something has terribly corrupted the citizenry and their purpose.


After driving for several hours inland from the upper New South Wales coastline, you come across the town without any real warning. The town itself has little more than a few token stores filled with drug paraphenalia and marijuana-themed novelties. This is a little dirtball that celebrates its proud past of radicalism and protest. The murals, graffiti and stores are all colourfully decorated and no doubt are spectacular viewed while under the influence.

The sense of anxiousness you develop isn't because of the town's isolation or it's single-minded devotion to an incredibly pidgeonholed way of life; what makes you uneasy is the people.

There are two types of people there - the aging hipsters, and their descendents.

The first type are people who undoubtedly smoked entire bushels of finest farm-fresh wacky-tobacky while singing their songs of love and peace. They hang around the town like living attractions to personally demonstrate the virtues of a life free of material wealth and attunment with nature. Personally I loved these folks - they are friendly, talkative and generous, if a little burnt out. They'll tell you stories of life as a protester, escapades from police and hairy situations they faced.

The real issue is the offspring of these people. Unlike their parents, these people are bitter, angry and seemingly ill-educated. Most of them appear to have been raised and taught in this place but have little understanding of what their parents refused to fight for. Drawn to your tourist-like appearance, you will be accosted at least twice per hour by young natives who will attempt to vend their illegal wares to you. They speak gruffly and underhandedly, and refuse to be dissuaded by even the most fervent rejections of their offers.

Every so often a police patrol will mosey on throughto deter the sale of drugs and when they do, the place becomes a ghost town - you wouldn't be able to tell that anyone lives there for their proficiency at hiding and the lack of upkeep on the storefronts.

There is one thing there most definitely worth visiting however - the museum of marijuana. It depicts the brief history of Nimbin and the involvement of the drug in its past. The museum itself is a marvelous achievement for the citizens as it hosts some truly fascinating artwork - paintings, sculptures, murals and poetry.

Just try not to make eye contact with the "salesman" hiding in the dark corners of the room. He'll try to sell you something that you really don't want to buy.