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Karri Tree. |
Our
next stop after Margaret River was so loved by the UysHuis that we did it
twice, and both times in the freezing cold, with wild wind and rain. Where is
this vortex of crap weather and magical wonder? Sleepy Pemberton, oh you
gorgeous little thing.
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Karrri Forest. |
The
drive from Margaret
River to Pemberton was
well worth it in itself. Forests of coastal eucalypts give way to the karris
with their towering and enormous trunks. And just to make sure you don't forget
how small and insignificant you are, every now and then the road opens up and
an emerald green paddock with a tiny house will reveal itself suddenly from
behind the trees, a human attempt at forcing back the forest so it can stand
with its menacing sentries on the barbed wire fence.
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Pemberton, a little drier the second time around. |
The
weather when we went with the McGary's was all of the above with the added
inclusion of torrential rain. It was quite busy, and since we wanted to have
two sites together, those allocated to us were at the bottom of the barrel, and
not particularly aesthetically pleasing, its main attraction being a view of an
electricity box. But just down there,
in the hollow next to the raging creek was a tonne of sites looking awesome.
Did I mention the cold, the wind, the rain, the creek? I'm no girl scout, but
I'm sensible enough to know that camping in the wet near a creek with the
forecast set to bucket down is probs a bad idea. And after a fairly heated
discussion with my beloved on this very point which ended with my last rather
ridiculous point being: "You're putting all of our lives at risk!!!"
we set up, down there. More on that later.
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Fluffy ducks. |
The
temperature plummeted, but we were all still on a high after lunch at Silkwood
Winery, a place of alright wines but pretty amazing food. Actually, it was
awesome food. (We went back here with my parents, and Mum in her infinite
wisdom ordered the tasting plate which will forever be known as The Best
Tasting Plate I've Ever Tasted. I'm annoyed I didn't take a photo.) Anyway,
even as the temperature dropped to single digits and our fire seemed to emit
more light than warmth, there was something about Pemberton that was just
lovely. Maybe it was the baby ducks, the brooding forests towering over the
town, the whispering torrent or the little houses with their chimneys and thin
strips of smoke smudging an already grey sky, or perhaps the loud rustle of the
treetops as the wind whipped around them. Maybe it was because I was verging on
hypothermia, but Pemberton has that romantic vibe about it that makes you want
to stay.
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Parrots and the Boet Bird Man. |
There's
a mountain bike track running passed the town, the Munda Biddi track, and the 1000 km Bibbulman walking track also
goes through it. Next to the caravan park is a "natural" swimming
pool akin to the one in which I learnt to swim at Bangalow, that is to say a
creek with a cement pylon at the downstream end to stop you from floating off
into the never never. There's also a
bike track with professionally built jumps, a park, a tramway taking you through the hills, a
trout farm, cooking school, art galleries, wineries, road side stalls with eggs for $4 a dozen and
the creamiest avocados at $2 for 4... And that beautiful forest is never far
away.
It was
all made a little more romantic by the weather, though this didn't transfer all
that well into the Uyshuis, especially as on our first morning there we had to
wade through water to get back in the camper after a trip to the toilet. It was
so wet that the water would seep up through the ground sheet as we walked
across it. The McGary's had had the
sense to move to higher ground in their wheeled mansion, but we were stuck in
the muck, unwilling to go through the rigmarole of packing everything up only
to move a few metres. I felt justifiably self righteous, and luckily our
friends, and later my parents, were gracious enough to let us into their
massive, warm and mostly dry motorhomes so we could be reasonably comfortable
during the lengthy, heavy and frustratingly regular downpours. Camping really
does suck in the cold rain.
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At the bottom of the Gloucester Tree. |
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The 'steps'. |
So
through all of this, we still loved Pemberton. We climbed the Gloucester tree, a Karri with spikes driven
into it all the way to the top 61 metres above the ground. I'll admit to
getting to the very top and fighting the urge to lie face down on the platform
while I hyperventilated. The view was amazing, but when a big gust of wind came
through and the tree started to sway, I took my photos and scrambled carefully
back down. Of course, this being the first real bit of exercise I'd completed
since running up and down dunes at Warroora, walking anywhere over the next few
days became pretty problematic.
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The view from the top... |
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...and down to the bottom |
With
Mum and Dad we went out to the Bicentennial tree in the Warren National Park
and Fiela climbed up its 71 but I got to the first platform 20 metres
up, and feeling the tree sway already in
the wind decided that that was far enough. We went for a walk down to the Warren River
lookout which was lovely, the trees and forest wonderous in its size and quiet.
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Walking at Warren National Park. |
Fiela
and I also managed to get to a few of the wineries courtesy of the Nana and
Poppy Babysitting Service, our favourite hands down being the Lost Lake Winery:
every wine here was a winner and their chardonnay was awesome. The winemakers
were actually doing the tastings, so it
all got a bit technical and there was a moment where the discussion of tannins
made my eyes glaze over, but it was nice to meet people being incredibly
passionate about what they do. I'd highly recommend a visit here, they also do
local tasting platters and lots of outside areas for kids.
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The Bicentennial Tree. |
Are
you convinced yet? At Manjimup we went to the Truffle Company,
where black truffles, the most expensive fungus in the world are
harvested by cute dogs you aren't allowed to go anywhere near lest you ruin
their delicate noses. More great wine and food here, along with some information
on how this tiny industry is overtaking the French one in quantity and quality.
When
it was time to move further east, both times the weather had been incredibly
disappointing, but like everywhere we’d been thus far in the South West region
of Australia, we'll be back when it's warmer and drier.
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A day trip from Pemberton to nearby Windy Harbour. As the name suggests, it was windy. |
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Wildflowers. |
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The Bicentennial Tree. |
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Parrot? |
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Pemberton Pool looking a bit more user friendly than its Bangalow cousin... |