Nimbin Highlights: Best Things For Social Media Influencers To Post About Nimbin
Nimbin, New South Wales. A tiny Northern Rivers town with a big, big reputation.
How many tens of thousands of times has it shown up on social media? Do any of them not mention the weed? In same way that Sydney consists of more than the Opera House, Harbour Bridge and Bondi beach, there is more to Nimbin than influencers care to explore, or verify. Even the idea that it is a place of “no laws” has been flung around like a cruelly captured chimp and its own excreta.
Indeed, it is a town like no other.
As was Byron Bay. And the lovely ‘biggest little town’ of Mullumbimby.
They are, of course, two towns of many that have undergone incremental and sustainable change since being founded in the late 19th century.
However, it has been within the last decade, thanks to overexposure, Airbnb, cashed-up Covid refugees and the ability to work from home, that both have rapidly become calcium carbonate structures of their former selves. See what I did there? That’s the style of social media that has lead to the ruination of these once beautifully small, well-functioning communities. True locals – much less affluent – with histories in these places that stretch further than eco-conscious luxe yoga wear, have been completely priced out of living where their entire life was centred.
If an influencer is going to have a story, it should be big or not at all. It’s an obligation that so many ignore. When feed posts and TikToks are nothing but marketing it’s a dull disservice. Fortunately, also utterly forgettable. There is no meaning, no inspiration. Devoid of education and elucidation, interesting questions remain sitting in the dark.
Like why the Land and Environment Court of New South Wales doesn’t continually deal with more pressing issues than the property development rejections by Byron Shire Council of the volcanically or vaguely rich and famous. It’s arrogant insistence that brings multi-millionaires by the half-baked dozen to plead their case for their right to build multi-million dollar, compound-style houses from here to infinity and their pools; because living by the beach means too much water is not enough.
The first slice of paradise slicing started in the 1990s when Hoges, Strop and Delvene had float of snapping handbags brimming with lobsters and pineapples from the enormous, international success of Crocodile Dundee.
The late John Cornell, and his wife Delvene Delaney were generous donors to community causes from that very beginning. Sponsoring everything from environmental initiatives to soccer clubs, schools and short story competitions, the money they continued to make over decades is strongly attached to the enormous amount that was quietly and industriously given back. Stemming from the authenticity of being good, decent Aussies, they are highly regarded and much loved by locals for their generosity, and the significant on-going and positive changes that remain their legacy.
It’s hard to say whether that mantle has ever been taken up by the raft of actors, hacktors and owners of family property trusts that have spread like too much Vegemite on a once deliciously good bit of toast.
Known for attracting Indigenous and other artists, musicians, writers, creatives, and alternative therapists rather than lime green Lamborghini Huracán STO lovers, Nimbin holds its own unique place in Australia’s cultural landscape. Its bohemian spirit, vibrant art scene, and enduring countercultural identity is more than symbolic of Australia’s alternative lifestyle – it absolutely is it.
Nestled in the lush, rolling hills of the Nightcap Range, everything in Nimbin is brightly coloured. The people, the shop fronts; even the bins. Overridingly, it is a friendly, happy place – and not just because of the easy availability of every hemp product you can think of.
Nimbin is honest. It doesn’t have any more mental health, or substance abuse issues per capita than anywhere else. The difference with its small population is that it’s a town that knows the names of people and the difficulties they’re dealing with. Rather than judging them or forcing them to the fringes, it strives to offer the space and connection that all humans crave.
With a town of under 2,500 and a district population that services a wider 7,000 most are working on their farms, in their studios, or volunteering for the many, many community organisations and festivals that genuinely reflect its diversity. It is a place of acceptance, belonging and healing.
It always was, and always will be the traditional lands of the Widjabul Wia-bul people of the Bundjalung nation Understandably, it’s a large part of its very strong and supportive local community.
Of great cultural significance is Nimbin Rocks – located a mere 11 kilometres south of the town, and a visual glory from both the Lismore and Kyogle approaches to the town. Standing for maybe 40 million years after the Mount Warning volcanic eruption 20 kilometres to the north-east, these jagged outcrops evoke the feeling of sentient sentinel, gracefully watching over the land and those upon it.
Once an important part of Bundjalung initiation ceremonies, this sacred men’s site is the home of the Nyimbunji or ‘Clever Men’ and the source of Nimbin’s name. Related in spirit and geology is Lilian Rock, 15 minutes north of Nimbin, and a Bundjalung nation landmark for sacred women’s business.
As part of the rapid logging of the soft, buoyant and valuable timber of Australian red cedar, European settlers arrived in the 1840s. Referred to as ‘red gold’ with the drive for it likened to the gold rush, it was valued for its rich, deep lustre, and durability in shipbuilding, construction, panelling and furniture making. Demand for it was high. So much so, the entire species of Toona australis had considerably diminished by 1870, and almost wiped out in the first hundred years of colonisation.
Farmers moved in after all the trees had been moved out. Then, the essence of the Aquarius Festival of 1973 had Nimbin turn from rural to radical.
It was the first time in history that the staunch determination of the counterculture banded together to stand up against industrial logging to protect the Big Scrub rainforest from the New South Wales Forestry Commission. (A misnomer if ever there was one.) The region’s rare and valuable ancient growth forest, along with the flora and fauna it nurtured became something that 23 years of conservative government was going to be held accountable.
These forest wars of 1979 culminated in the creation of national parks throughout New South Wales.
It was a time of extraordinary social change that challenged post-war philosophies and beliefs, and established almost a hundred communes – of which more than half still exist – because these people understood nature as a living, breathing ecosystem and not a resource for exploitation.
For that alone, Australians need to be eternally grateful: and acutely aware that the spirit of dissent is under threat.
Since 2010, environmental activism has been slammed by government legislation in a way that would have had the Terania Creek protesters (after which the falls are named) incarcerated. Instead, an alliance of nature conservationists and the (now unrecognisable) Labor Party was formed.
The tactics of activists that lead to blockades, and the reactions of loggers and police were all done on the fly. Everything that was conceived and initiated in this trigger event progressed to a much greater environmental movement. Protection of Tasmania’s Franklin River and North Queensland’s Daintree Rainforest may never have happened were it not for the Terania and Mount Nardi blockades.
With a climate in crisis, the loss of biodiversity, native birds and animals facing endangerment and extinction and industries continuing to destroy our forests and oceans, it’s the telling and retelling of this important story of critical mass that began in Nimbin, that needs to be the focus of content creators. Be decidedly more than young, dumb and vacuously full of matcha lattes, soft onion boils and idiotic dental hacks. Stand out. Stand up for what’s worthwhile. The threads of Nimbin are a tapestry that’s so much more than its clothes and smoke wisps from joints in the street. Those are symbols of independence: hard won by those with adventurous, spirited hearts and the guts to take on the fight.
Stories have to be held and handled and passed around. Otherwise they pass away; like everything forgotten and neglected. Without them, we have no idea who we are, where we came from and why we’re here.
Nimbin knows. Therein lies true influence.
