IT'S near dark driving into Pemberton in Western Australia. Behind the wheel, I'm wired on a cocktail of adrenalin and paranoia, bracing for a large kangaroo to come crashing through my windscreen. It's a kangaroo that never arrives.

I get my key from reception at the YHA and drive to the detached worker's cottage across town. After fetching white wine from the bottle shop across the road, I burst through the hostel door with a hearty: "OK, who wants a drink?"

Inside is a terrific share house, with a roaring fire and people veging on the couch. I'm staying with Germans, French and Aussies. A few are heading south on working-holiday visas, while others are walking on the nearby Bibbulmun track (961km, from Perth to Albany). Some are doing it for the physical challenge, while others seem to expect a lightning-bolt life revelation.

After refreshments, it's off to the supermarket. It's closed, so I walk through a stiff breeze to the nearby Best Western hotel for dinner with one of the hikers. We run into more backpackers behind the bar. After a big plate of spag bol and a few beers, we repair to the hostel. The digs look even better in the morning, with a back deck, lawn, kitchen-cum-dining area and a big dining room and lounge.

I talk my housemates into going on the forest tram, departing from Pemberton railway. We head past the old sawmill and into forest, where the driver points out the differences between the karri, Marri and Jarrah trees. Approaching a road crossing, and the first of six bridges, he fires the whistle, which sounds like an air horn. It's for a good reason, he explains - a truckie crashed into the tram not once, but twice, after driving through the crossing.

Stopping briefly at the cascades, we stretch our legs before hopping back on board. Passing the BibbuImun track intersection we wave to the hikers, and then cross the Southern Hemisphere's longest wooden tram bridge. Back at the hostel, there's not much arm-twisting required to get the Germans to join me at the Wine and Truffle Co near Manjimup.

We pop into the truffière and take an abridged version of the tour, minus the gourmet cooking demonstration and dog training explanation. Later, it's gumboots on as truffle host Megan Tate takes us on a walk, detailing tile history of the property and how it all works. The first truffle harvest, in 2003, was l0kg. Last season the figure was 1.5 tonnes.

As we walk around the orchard, it's obvious how much science is involved, with data on moisture levels and the truffles kept for future planning. Figures are compared with Europe, where truffles are harvested in the wild. Truffle-hunting season is usually from late May to mid-to-late August. The truffle dogs will sniff 40km of ‘truffle tree rows in less than seven days, seeking out ripe little nuggets.

We're late in the season but Tate manages to dig out a truffle from protected oak roots growing too close to the surface. She holds up the black gold for us to sniff. While Europe's truffle yields are shrinking, this truffière is expanding. We return to the cellar door and have a wine tasting with master winemaker Mark Aitken, who dryly remarks that my ciggie puffing housemate will be enjoying "tobacco notes" with everything. On the way back I climb the 5lm Diamond Tree and the Gloucester Tree, a 6lm former fire lookout.

The next morning, before breakfast, I'm up the 75m Dave Evans Bicentennial Tree. From here I can almost see my next destination.

Written by Bill Johnston as a guest of Tourism Western Australia, published on 16/01/11