March 3.          Another long day.  Cycled exactly the same distance as yesterday: 133 km, except that this wasn’t planned for today.  The terrain was not easier than yesterday, probably even a bit hillier, but the weather had greatly improved.  I started under a cool overcast sky in the morning with the sun gradually taking over until, in the evening, there was hardly any cloud left. 

            I felt cold in my cabin in the Pemberton caravan park this morning and the thought of having to sleep in my tent tonight at the Shannon campsite did not appeal at all to me.  However, there appeared to be not much of an option because after Pemberton there is only Northcliffe with any accommodation, a short 30 km from Pemberton, hardly worth the trouble of packing up and getting on the road.  So I prepare for Shannon camp, where there is a shower but nothing to eat.  I buy food for a day, apricot nectar, orange juice and batteries for my headlamp.  For breakfast, I enjoy the delicious whole-wheat buns at the Pemberton bakery; I enjoy less their coffee and small biscuits. 

            Camping at Shannon really bothers me, so I wait until the Pemberton visitor center opens to inquire whether there are truly no other accommodation possibilities on the way, a B&B or a room at a vineyard, for example. 

The woman at the center isn’t very helpful, but it seems that there is really nothing.  Later at the information office at Northcliffe I get the same message from two very friendly ladies.  The same I hear again from the owner of the Northcliffe Hotel, who feels however that the road up to Shannon camp is less hilly than I thought.  That sounds encouraging especially as I have already worked myself through four climbs to Northcliffe.  Nothing too challenging but nevertheless not to be ignored either.  In fact, one of the Pemberton lumber mill workers with whom I spoke yesterday said that the thought alone of the 1.4 km climb out of town made his knees go weak. 

            Well, so I leave Northcliffe at about noon, heading towards Shannon camp 30 km hence.  From open land I soon get back into forest; undulating country, the same as yesterday; a straight line of a road cut through the forest, some 20 km long; no habitation in sight; light traffic; some drivers making thumbs-up signs, or giving a friendly honk.  But most of all, there is quiet except for the muffled noise of the forest. 

            By two in the afternoon when I arrive at Shannon, I have warmed up to the idea to go the additional 70 km to Walpole, which was to be my destination for tomorrow.  The warmth of the sun, the peaceful surroundings, and above all the menace of an uncomfortable night make the decision easy.  I turn round and head back towards the main road and off to Walpole.  The road, now Highway One, continues through forest and more forest, first Shannon National Park, then D’Entrecasteaux National Park.  Just like yesterday: mighty Karri trees that reach heights of up to 70 meters, their foliage spreading into wide crowns and blanketing the forest bottom with a soft warm shade.  Fire has often blackened the lower portions of the trunk.  But as this Eucalyptus tree sheds its bark, it renews its appearance, and after some time the black is gone.  The gray-brown-pink color of the trunk reappears giving the trees a look of freshness and cleanliness.  The fallen bark envelops the thick low portion of the trunk making the tree look as if it was emerging with a skirt out of the ground.

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