Who is the Skipper?

No, this is not a power struggle for the wheel of the Subaru, but a state-sanctioned sign that often appears outside wineries – it’s meant to make you think about who’s driving the car afterwards, before you’ve quaffed a pile of samplers, starting at the whites and working through the reds. Tommorrow we’ve signed up for a Wine Tour day from 11-5, so it must have worked on me. tree.jpg
Not as big as Tassie, but hollower. On the way out of Pemberton, Kim did the Tree-top walk, proudly picking her way around the lady paralysed with fear on the second pylon – clinging to her husband in tears. The lack of birds, insect and wildlife in the canopy were a little disappointing. We visit the awfully named Jarra Jacks brewery for a sample rack of 6 delicious beers and a beautiful platter for lunch and then struggle with headaches later that afternoon. tree2.jpg
We are 40 metres up in the canopy, swaying on a tiny pilon, and trying to keep our feet. We are brave, even if it doesn’t look like much. Mostly disbelieving the mufti madness in the news this past week (since when have I thought credible some of the guff that’s been spouted by radical Catholics either), we’re really starting to get in sync and enjoy the break now. We’ve visited some very cute towns with cute shops and cute dark wooden houses (hello Bridgetown,Pemberton,Balingup). We imagine what kind of people must live in them, and whether they’re happy, or whether they just want to move to the city where the action is. We wonder where the hermit of Nannup lives – the one we overheard a store-owner talk about, who makes a large piece of outdoor furniture out of pieces of fallen Karri timber and sells it to her when he needs some cash. Then disappears back to his bush camp again for months.