By Erik Skye

December 22, 2010:

Pemberton is Quaint with a capital Q. I really didn’t know what to think when I rolled into town. It’s got a main street with most businesses on it, just like other little towns here. But something was different. I strolled around just staring. I finally shouted to someone ‘is this town as charming as it appears?’ It was no use. He was from Belgium (not the local I took him for – I want some insight!). But we had a nice conversation all the same. He was lamenting about small Australian towns (on his 6 week vacation). He said ‘you see a name on a map, and it looks like a city. Then you arrive and find 3 houses and a cow’. He had just rolled his own cigarette, and it hung from the corner of his mouth as he spoke. I thought it was about to break off at any moment as it wobbled up and down. I decided I rather liked this guy as we bid each other safe travels.

I had dinner at The Shamrock Cottage Restaurant. I was born in 1970, but I thought I had returned to the 1950’s (my impression of what it must have been like). The ambiance was complete with 1950’s décor, music, and a particular grandmotherly type (i.e. I didn’t come to the counter and ring the bell on arrival, as was etiquette apparently, and I got a stern look when she came out from the kitchen to find me already seated). The food was absolutely delicious! Oh, this place is BYO (Bring Your Own), which means you bring in your own alcohol. They do that in Australia.

Where’s the Cleaver Residence? I wanted to say hi to the Beaver. Laughing out loud – sorry, couldn’t resist. Really though, the people here seem genuine salt of the earth. I really like small towns anywhere, I think.

This morning I climbed the Gloucester and Bicentennial Trees, here in the Pemberton area. Australia has preserved a few stands of virgin Karri. They’re huge. The two trees I climbed were used for fire spotting decades ago, and the ladder systems delivery you to platforms 200 and 246 feet respectively. You tune your FM radio to channel 100, and there’s a repeating broadcast to narrate your forest drives through the various parks. Pretty cool.

I’m writing in a tiny town called Northcliffe, where I had a nice breakfast ‘just like mom used to make’. A group of chatty teens came along and are talking excitedly about all kinds of things, like Facebook, getting into trouble at school, cars, etc… They sound just like American teens, but with a nice thick Aussie accent.

The Valley of the Giants included a great set of walks through virgin Karri and Red Tingle trees, called the Tree Top Walk and the Ancient Empire Walk. This is in Walpole-Norhalup National Park. There was a quokka here too. An Aussie couple was watching it with me, and the man said he didn’t think they were in these parts. I told him that maybe the little quokka was lost. He laughed. I like it when people laugh at my jokes.

I’ve rounded the SW corner and will stay the night here in Denmark.

Nothing yet from the beautiful maiden of Margaret River...