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When my friend suggested that we climb some trees on our recent weekend camping trip in WA (Western Australia), I think I replied with something along the lines of “Oh, I love climbing trees.” But ladies and gentlemen, this is not the tree-climbing of your childhood, this is some exhilarating adventuring.

And once I found out more about the trees, the question I couldn’t wait to answer was: What does it feel like to climb a giant tree?

Now, when I am talking giant tree, take a second and think of how tall that might be. Twenty feet? Fifty feet? Thirty meters? Nope. The shortest of these 3 Pemberton climbing trees is 51 meters. Yup, not feet, meters! As in, 167 feet is the shortest tree, with the tallest of the trio reaching a height of over 245 feet (75 meters)!!

Of course, I couldn’t help myself. I climbed all three trees =)

One of the first things I asked myself was “why on earth would someone put all of these metal rungs into the side of a tree?” But the answer is actually quite logical and stems from a problem sadly Australians know all too well – bush fires. When it was difficult to build a tower tall enough in this forest area of naturally tall karri trees to accurately spot and extinguish the bush fires, the idea of the tallest trees in a particular area becoming the lookout point began. Pegs were inserted into the sides of these tall trees to allow rangers to climb to the top and see the surrounding area to triangulate the source of the fire.

Even with a bit of background though, I still didn’t know quite what to expect approaching the first tree that I climbed, the Diamond Tree (which is the “short” one, at just a mere 51 meters). Certainly, my American instincts were totally unprepared for the self-reliance protocol typical of the Australians. When you arrive, there is some signage explaining the climb, but there are a lot of other things I expected to see that were simply absent. Like an entrance fee. Or a park ranger to keep an eye on things. Or a legal waiver to sign. Or a net underneath the metal sticks spiraling up and serving as stairs.

Instead, there is a pretty casual sign recommending closed-toed shoes, that you carry nothing with you when you climb, and the official message from the Aussie park authorities: “Your safety is our concern, but your responsibility.” Eek. There was a quite open net along the non-tree side of the climbing pegs, but that was pretty much it. Not even a net underneath. I’d hope that most people who fall would catch themselves, but the pegs were spaced far enough apart that you could plausibly fall and slip through the space between the pegs. Nothing like a bit of danger to get the adrenaline pumping, let me tell you.

There was definitely a bit of nervousness at the start of the first tree, but let’s be real – that’s never stopped me before. At each step, I consciously thought to myself about only moving one foot or hand at a time and also made sure that I was properly gripping the bar with my hand each time. After the first ten steps or so, I hit a bit of a rhythm, looking up to the next bar and methodically moving my limbs and leaning ever so slightly forward toward the next grip. About halfway up, around the 25-meter mark, there is a platform where you can catch your breath and take a bit of a break before ascending to the top. And then you see the sign:

Well, if you weren’t sure about climbing in the first place, this might be the nudge that sent you back down to the safety of the ground. At this point though, I had figured out the hard part of gripping the initially awkward metal posts, and was ready to go to the top. Plus, there are a few platforms in close proximity when you near the top, offering a bit of enclosure and a standard ladder to climb instead of just the pegs.

When I tackled the tallest one, the Bicentennial Tree, I had a bit of an idea of what to expect. Although my initial nervousness and alertness did not completely dissipate, especially since the tree was a bit different meaning that the peg placement was a bit different as well. The first platform here (with the opportunity to change your mind and go back as before) was also about 25-meters off the ground, but the next one up from there was even longer and you still weren’t even at the top. That stretch between the initial two platforms was definitely the one that held the most trepidation for me.

And since we were doing a 10.5-kilometer hike in the area of the Bicentennial Tree, there wasn’t enough time in the afternoon to climb the third one. The Gloucester Tree was the challenge for the following morning, at which point I was already sore between the tree-climbing and hiking. It was a whole new experience to climb one of these giant trees relying on already-tired muscles. And my friend who had climbed this one several times previously let me enjoy the solitude of ascending the final tree on my own. All 61 meters to the glorious view at the top.

At the top of the tree, the view is so peaceful and extensive over the treetop. There is just something I find so harmonious about being on your own with nature all around you. Then of course you realize that you still need to come down all those metal rungs. Carefully. And at the end when you’ve reached your goal, nothing beats that sense of accomplishment, not to mention the feeling of your mind relaxing completely in the aftermath of the mental and physical exertion.

If you’ve ever used the term “adrenaline junkie” to describe yourself, the Pemberton climbing trees are obviously not to be missed if you find yourself in WA. Pemberton is only about a 4-hour drive south of Perth, and is right in the middle of some of the best wineries and restaurants of Western Australia. Even if you’re not constantly plotting your next adventure, the exhilaration of the tree climbing experience was just wonderful – and totally worth it.

Interestingly, the question I was asked most by other visitors was not whether I thought climbing the trees was safe, but “Is the view worth it?” I was first asked this by someone on the ground who was debating starting the climb and again had the question posed when I was on my way down the Bicentennial Tree and someone on there way up was frozen at the first platform, twenty-five meters above the ground (the first person didn’t climb, and the second person didn’t make it higher than that first platform).

But when the woman in her 60s who has run several marathons comes down from climbing the Gloucester Tree to say how it’s the most insane thing she’s ever done, and she asserts this with a giant smile across her face – yeah, that’s exactly the kind of thing you want to experience as you travel.

 

What is the “coolest thing” that you’ve done? Something that once you knew it existed, you just *had* to do??

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