Can a 48-hour weekend away match a week-long holiday? In this town, it can

2 hours ago 3

With a long haul to the Christmas break, and with neither the time nor the budget for a proper escape, I decided to experiment: could a 48-hour trip to a coastal hot spot feel as restorative as a week in the sun?

Byron Bay has a reputation. Once the sleepy, barefoot darling of the NSW north coast, it’s now whispered about as “too trendy”. To be fair, it’s a bit of both. You’ll still find the slow coastal pace but now it comes with buzzing cafes, boutique shopping and restaurants serving meals a mile away from a schnitty at the local club.

Just an 80-minute flight from Sydney, getting to Byron couldn’t be easier. My husband and I land at Ballina airport, grab an Uber, and by 9am we’re at Bayleaf Cafe and I have a latte in hand and a green bowl in front of me quicker than you can say quinoa.

Our base for the weekend is 28 Degrees, an adults-only hideaway in the heart of town that you could walk past without knowing it exists, with tall palms and high fences guarding the secret spot from the street. Inside it’s all sunlit serenity and Northern Rivers style: linen sheets, linen robes and a linen sofa (in shades of seagrass and sand, of course).

We’ve booked the private plunge pool suite (the pool is perfectly heated to an on-brand 28 degrees) and the only other guest is a lazy water dragon stretched out on the tiles like he owns the place.

28 Degrees is an adults-only hideaway in the heart of Byron Bay.

That night we get a ride to nearby Bangalow for dinner at Tuckshop, where chef Sam Campbell has taken diner classics and given them a twist inspired by his travels around the world. The barbecued Bangalow pork belly with macadamia muhammara, miso butter and labneh is worth making the 20-minute trip out of Byron for on its own.

Torrential rain rolls in the next day, so we check in to the Navia Bathhouse for three indulgent hours broken up into an hour-long massage followed by a two-hour circuit comprising a traditional Finnish sauna, a cold plunge, a steam room, an ice bath (I only braved ankle-deep immersion) and a magnesium hot pool. With a maximum of 16 people allowed, it’s a peaceful sanctuary except for the muffled “oh f---” from anyone taking on the ice bath’s zero-degree plunge.

Dinner that night is at Moonlight, a Japanese hibachi restaurant where the chef’s tasting menu delivers dish after exquisite dish until we’re nearly defeated by the final serve: miso caramel cheesecake. But we manage to squeeze it in and roll back to 28 Degrees for another night under linen sheets.

Our last morning begins at High Life Cafe – a name that couldn’t be more Byron-made. Only open from Monday to Friday, it’s a locals’ favourite, so it feels like we’ve stumbled on a secret. Then it’s back to Ballina for the short hop home.

Two days. That’s all it was. But it turns out that 48 hours can feel like a week away, and without the out-of-office email backlog. I might just make it to Christmas after all.

The writer was a guest of 28 Degrees.

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