No way YHA

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After a final burst of recommendations for things to do down south, from Garry and the Australian couple, I bade my farewells and drove off into a chilly morning. To warm myself up, I started with a hike from Barrabup Pool to Workers' Pool and back. The mist drifting across the water created a dreamlike atmosphere, which was only dispelled by the cobwebs that attached themselves to my face every 10 yards.

I then returned to Nannup and did a scenic drive by the Blackwood River to Balingup, then headed west to Bridgetown. From there I proceeded to Manjimup, where I took a side road to One Tree Bridge. Annoyingly, though the RG had stated that this was a bridge built on a tree, it had neglected to mention that the whole had been moved from the river and simply plonked in a clearing.

Next up was the Four Aces, a set of 4 large karri trees all in a row. Unfortunately there was nothing to indicate which 4 trees actually were the Aces - and, believe me, in the middle of a karri forest it ain't obvious - so I picked the 4 that looked to be in the straightest line and snapped them.

On the way to Pemberton, I stopped at the Diamond Tree, one of several "fire trees" in the area. These are essentially tall trees that have had platforms built on top of them, and are manned in the summer by people who keep a look-out for wisps of smoke, which can indicate an impending fire. To get to the top, you have to climb a spiral "staircase" consisting of a series of metal rods that have been hammered into the tree. There's a safety mesh at the side but nothing to stop you falling between the rods. It looks like a safety hazard (at least to someone like myself with no head for heights), but as it's still open to the public I can only assume that people don't fall off on a regular basis. Just looking at the thing made my heart rate go up. As I was returning to the car, I passed a German girl who cheerfully announced that she was going to make her 3rd attempt on the tree today - on the previous 2 occasions, she'd lost her nerve part way up and had had to come down. A braver person than I.

My hostel choices in Pemberton were either a place way outside of town (as recommended by all and sundry at the Black Cockatoo), or the YHA which was in town. Again, I felt as though I didn't have much choice, seeing as I didn't fancy cooking dinner for myself, so I headed for the YHA. My suspicions were immediately aroused by the number of pairs of muddy wellington boots that were strewn about the place. There was a sign in the reception saying that someone would be back in half an hour, which ended up translating to 50 minutes. The dorm was cramped, with 3 sets of bunk-beds in a room that would have been just right with only 1, but there was an aloof hostel cat to offset this.

After having an expensive fish and chips at the local pub, I went to bed at about 11PM (early by my standards), and was surprised to find that everyone else was already in the dorm. Two of the inhabitants, a smelly bearded guy and his (presumed) girlfriend, had decided that they would rather spend some time in just one bunk, so there was a great deal of whispering and stifled giggling. A perfectly silent dorm is the ideal, but I'm not going to kick up a fuss if people want to fool around for a while - though the images of naked smelly bearded guys that floated unbidden into my head did not exactly encourage sleep.

Unfortunately this was only the warm-up act. Some time in the wee small hours, a periodic beeping started, which I eventually realised must be the smoke alarm warning of an impending battery shut-down. I tried unsuccessfully to ignore it, which didn't work, and also noticed that even if I stood on my bunk I couldn't reach the thing because the ceiling was so high. The only course of action was to vacate the dorm, so I grabbed my bedding and headed out to the couch in the common room, which I ended up sharing with the cat.

At about 4AM, the lights suddenly went on and the night porter started hassling me about sleeping in the common room. He initially thought that I'd arrived late and was trying to spend a night in the hostel without paying. Not being in the most charitable of moods, I explained that I had indeed paid for the night but wasn't able to sleep in the dorm because the smoke alarm hadn't been maintained appropriately by the hostel staff, and if he would be so kind as to fix it then I would happily return to my bed. This resulted in him grunting, turning off the lights, and disappearing again.

At about 5AM, people started stirring in the hostel. Once I'd realised it wasn't just one or two, but a large percentage of the population, I myself got up, figuring that I was fated to have a minimal amount of sleep this night. The showers were standard YHA issue - small and grubby, with the unwanted addition of a used Elastoplast in the soap dish.

I couldn't check out fast enough, and as I was transporting my stuff back to the car, I saw crowds of waterproof-wearing wellington boot-shod twentysomethings piling into various vans, at which point I realised that most of my hostel-mates must have been involved in fruit-picking. That can not be the most fun job going in this part of the world, as it was damn cold. Yet again, I came to the conclusion that workers and travellers are not necessarily a good mix. I also made a solemn vow to myself that I would never again knowingly stay in a YHA.

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