australia – Page 7 – Travelling Worm

Category: australia

Jumping crocodiles near Darwin

This is the blog of Mark Wordsworm, the travelling worm. I’m a 25-year-old bookmark and can proudly boast my own Hallmark serial number, 95 HBM 80-1. You’ll probably want to read all about me and my Travelling Companion (the TC) .

Today’s travel notes

Peg, the TC and I have all been in Darwin, in Australia’s “Top End”, for the past week. The TC, bless her cotton socks, booked herself on a Spectacular Jumping Crocodile Cruise. As is her wont, she took me along. I consented to pose in front of the bus for the obligatory snapshot, then retreated to the safety of my book nestled deep in the TC’s bag. Peg was nowhere to be seen. She’s a very together type of gal and knows when to keep herself out of harm’s way.

My impressions? The Northern Territory’s salties are horrifyingly beautiful.

Travel tip

Believe it when they tell you not to put your arm out over the side of the boat.

The book I’m in

Past Caring, by Robert Goddard. Definitely a “the thot plickens” type of book. This worm recommends it whole-heartedly.

The photos

Me and the only type of jumping croc that I allow anywhere near me:

Jumping crocodiles near Darwin

We were lucky enough to have the one and only Rod as our bus driver and guide. He knows a great deal about the bush, the swamps and the history of Darwin. I was sorry when the tour ended, because he’d only been able to relate a fraction of the stories he knows of Darwin and surrounds. The photo below shows us driving over the dyke at Fogg Dam. Rod told us all about the doomed Humpty Doo rice project, of which Fogg Dam is part. People built the dyke to control the water in the Adelaide River wetlands, so that they could grow rice. Alas, after the first big wet season most of the rice ended up in the Timor Sea. Did you notice the crocodile toys on the dashboard? We were very soon to see the real thing!

Jumping crocodiles near Darwin

A pretty little Jacana bird wanders through an idyll soon to be shattered:

Jumping crocodiles near Darwin

A late-blooming Lotus lily lures and lulls the unwary:

Jumping crocodiles near Darwin

But wait. Take a closer look at those low-lying dark humps at the middle right:

Jumping crocodiles near Darwin

Oh yes, the TC has spotted her first crocodile.

Next stop, the reception room for the Spectacular Jumping Crocodiles Cruise:

Jumping crocodiles near Darwin

Then out onto a reassuringly solid-looking boat:

Jumping crocodiles near Darwin

Gotcha! We walked straight on through that boat and onto the much more intimate craft that would ferry us around the croc-infested banks of the Adelaide River:

Jumping crocodiles near Darwin

The TC, of course, was delighted. So much more real. So much more opportunity to get close to the crocs. Better photographs. Yada yada yada.

Sure enough, we were but a couple of metres off the mooring point when this charmer hove into view:

Jumping crocodiles near Darwin

That was when yours truly, the Travelling Worm, huddled deeper into my book and did my utmost not to attract the TC’s attention. It’s at times like this that she’s apt to whip me out and parade me in front of whatever’s going on, to snap that killer photograph. (Aah, bad choice of words on two counts, worm!)

From this point on it’s all go:

For the faint of heart, here’s a still of the same crocodile:

Jumping crocodiles near Darwin

For the tender of heart, here are some baby crocodiles. They’re hatchlings, about 6 inches long:

Jumping crocodiles near Darwin

Aah, so cute! Beware, mum is not far away:

Jumping crocodiles near Darwin

Isn’t she gorgeous? Here’s the video:

So, if you ever see a footprint like this:

Jumping crocodiles near Darwin

Then look out for a poser like this:

Jumping crocodiles near Darwin

Now I’m back home in the arms of my loved ones. Drool has had his nose put out of joint by my tale of creatures more prehistoric even than he. Peg is, as so often, my anchor:

Jumping crocodiles near Darwin

That’s all for today dudes.
The black cockatoos are in town

This is the blog of Mark Wordsworm, the travelling worm. I’m a 25-year-old bookmark and can proudly boast my own Hallmark serial number, 95 HBM 80-1. You’ll probably want to read all about me and my Travelling Companion (the TC) .

Today’s travel notes

For someone who professes to be the friend and companion of a travelling worm, it seems to this worm that the TC has an unhealthy fascination with birds. She’s been taking pictures of the black cockatoos that have just arrived in our neck of the woods.

Needless to say, I stayed well out of sight. Black cockatoos are partial to the odd grub or two, and I don’t rate their level of discernment very highly. I think they’d pounce first and ask questions second.

“Oops, sorry, did I just swallow Mark Wordsworm, the famous Travelling Worm?”

These are the Sydney yellow-tailed black cockatoos. They seem to drop in at around this time every year, probably because a certain type of gum tree is in flower.

The book I’m in

Lake News, by Barbara Delinsky.

The photos

Me not inviting attention from a big cocky bird:

The black cockatoos are in town

Black cockatoos are difficult photographic subjects, because they’re… well, black. Here’s what the TC managed to get.

Looking savvy:

The black cockatoos are in town

Looking cute and fluffy:

The black cockatoos are in town

Showing off the yellow tail:

The black cockatoos are in town

Prowling along a branch in silhouette, pretending to be a black panther and then spoiling it by squealing like an eagle:

The TC in hot pursuit, snapped by the TC-once-removed:

The black cockatoos are in town

That’s all for today dudes.
Bush-walking in the rain

This is the blog of Mark Wordsworm, the travelling worm. I’m a 25-year-old bookmark and can proudly boast my own Hallmark serial number, 95 HBM 80-1. You’ll probably want to read all about me and my Travelling Companion (the TC) .

Today’s travel notes

The TC is mad. Not raving, just quietly but significantly bananas. This is by now a well-established fact. Nevertheless it bears repeating. In particular, if she invites you out on a walk and says the clouds mean nothing, don’t believe her!

Last week she went walking in the Manly Dam reserve in a rain storm.

My impressions? I do concede that the TC is right when she says the Ozzie bush is beautiful in the rain.

Travel tip

Don’t wear shoes that matter to you. When it rains in the Australian bush, you’ll be up to your ankles in fast-flowing mud within five minutes.

The book I’m in

Blindman’s Bluff, by Faye Kellerman. I’ve moved on a few pages since yesterday. I’m still near enough the middle of the book to feel secure, but it’s getting close to the time when I start worrying that the thickness of pages left is not enough to prevent me warping.

The photos

Me in the Sydney wet. I tend to go to pieces in a storm, and my famous blue raincoat is torn at the shoulder. Luckily I had another effective, if less stylish, waterproof covering with me:

Picture this: It’s pouring with rain, all sensible souls are playing couch potato couch potato, but there’s the TC setting off into the bush with her purple umbrella unfurled:

It’s not long before she starts ooh-ing and aah-ing at the sights she beholds. The only camera at hand is her iPhone, but she is not deterred. Every photo in this blog post was taken on the iPhone:

“Ooh,” coos the TC, “the fairies have strung up their party lights behind an Old Man Banksia”:

Raindrops dangle:

If you look carefully, you’ll see the spider lurking in the leaf on his rain-spangled web:

Don’t expect to stay dry even if it’s not actually raining. Dripping branches bar your way:

Rivulets of water make swirling patterns in the sand, echoing the patterns in the rock:

Here’s a vista with a rain-lit bush in the foreground:

A grass tree in the wet. People also call these plants blackboys or Xanthorrhoea:

Raindrops perched on the flower of an Old Man Banksia:

A path full of puddles mirroring the trees, with the TC’s somewhat inelegant and extremely sodden foot at bottom right:

Two mini waterfalls where there’s usually just dry rock:

The “bleeding” gum trees look even more bloody and gruesome when they’re wet:

More droplets sprinkled on leaves and flowers:

This is the waterfall in the Manly Dam reserve, in full spate after recent heavy rainfall. The TC took this photo today, a week after all the others:

That’s all for today dudes.
A praying mantis eating a lizard

This is the blog of Mark Wordsworm, the travelling worm. I’m a 25-year-old bookmark and can proudly boast my own Hallmark serial number, 95 HBM 80-1. You’ll probably want to read all about me and my Travelling Companion (the TC) .

Today’s travel notes

Me and the TC spotted a praying mantis eating a lizard this afternoon. The TC was appalled but fascinated. Out came the camera, of course. Being not of a ghoulish disposition, I visited the site only after the drama was over.

Warning: If you’re anything like the me and TC, you’ll find the pictures gross. A note of comfort from this worm: The lizard was definitely dead. The TC checked before she took the photos. The lizard’s head was mostly disconnected from its body. Any twitching limbs or tail are purely reflex.

Travel tip

Stay out of the way of praying mantises, even if you’re bigger than they are.

The book I’m in

Blindman’s Bluff, by Faye Kellerman. I’m tempted to say I know who dun it. This is another great book by Faye. She never disappoints this worm.

The photos

Me surveying the site of the drama, well after all parties had dispersed:

Here’s the mantis caught in the act:

They’re half way up a tree fern near Sydney, in New South Wales, Australia. Getting down to it:

Here’s the video:

Meal over:

That’s all for today dudes.
Travelling Worm goes to Atlassian

This is the blog of a 25-year-old bookmark. I proudly boast my own Hallmark serial number, 95 HBM 80-1. You’ll probably want to read all about me and my Travelling Companion (the TC) .

Today’s travel notes

The other day I dozed off inside a good book and woke up to find myself at the Atlassian office in Sydney. What on earth is Atlassian? The TC rabbits on about them all the time. Evidently they’re the guys who make Confluence wiki, JIRA bug tracker and some other equally odd-sounding things.

A little bird tweeted that Atlassian are making some big announcements next week. This worm was there during the busy run-up to the big day.

My impressions? Beer fridges, everywhere.

Word of the day: Standup.

Travel tip

When you visit Atlassian in Sydney, remember there’s an upstairs too. That’s where the TC hangs out. Take her some chocolate and your welcome is assured.

Recommended restaurant

Peace Harmony, corner of Erskine and Sussex streets, about 5 minutes’ walk from the Atlassian office. It’s a vegetarian Thai restaurant. The TC raves about the tasty food, the peaceful atmosphere and the outstanding service.

The book I’m in

The Linnet Bird, by Linda Holeman.

The photos

Me inside Atlassian, getting pally with Charlie. He’s the weird looking blue dude with his arms in the air, holding up a saucer (or whatever):

Travelling Worm goes to Atlassian

The Atlassian offices are in the old Corn Exchange building, near Darling Harbour in Sydney:

Travelling Worm goes to Atlassian

Here’s a closer view. The JIRA team is right behind this window:

Travelling Worm goes to Atlassian

Back inside now, this window lights the FishEye/Crucible team:

Travelling Worm goes to Atlassian

Charlie is a bit of a clothes horse. He gets dressed up in various outfits and then hangs around the meeting rooms or Atlassian events, all primped and proper. Here’s me chatting him up. He’s dressed for the board room, where the occasional game of poker happens too:

Travelling Worm goes to Atlassian

Me and Charlie outside the Fishbowl meeting room:

Travelling Worm goes to Atlassian

Me and Charlie in the area of the engineering and product management chiefs. Their desks look out on a gym, so Charlie feels comfortable in less formal attire:

Travelling Worm goes to Atlassian

I doff my mortarboard to Jason of the design team for his endless inventiveness in Charlie’s wardrobe.

Guess what? Hand was there too. You remember Hand, the annoying creature who attached himself to the TC when we were in Surfers Paradise last year. He’s an intrusive fellow with a finger in every pie. So it was no surprise when he insisted on attending a standup at Atlassian. A standup is a weird ritual practised by ‘agile’ programmers. This worm doesn’t think they look particularly agile, loitering around in a circle and uttering the odd technical phrase every now and then.

Here’s Hand getting underfoot at a standup. The feet are attached to the technical writing team:

Travelling Worm goes to Atlassian

Can you guess which foot belongs to the TC?

That’s all for today dudes.
Dawn in Surfers Paradise

This is the blog of a 25-year-old bookmark. I proudly boast my own Hallmark serial number, 95 HBM 80-1. You’ll probably want to read all about me and my Travelling Companion (the TC) .

Today’s travel notes

Me and the TC flitted back to Surfers Paradise on the Australian Gold Coast last weekend. We’ve been there before. This time was just a quick hop, to join the TC-once-removed at the end of a week-long conference.

Me, I’m no adrenaline junky, so I stayed comfortably lodged in a good book while the TCs went cavorting around Movie World. They came back gibbering and quivering, having mistakenly got on the Scooby-Doo coaster with the expectations of a gentle ride interrupted by a few spooks popping out of corners. Hah, I could have told them what to expect. They were also sizzling with excitement after the Hollywood Stunt Driver show, where they claim they had to duck flying cars and douse burning eyebrows after the explosive finale.

Later, the TC dragged me and the TC-once-removed out to see the dawn on the beach. Some people just can’t be persuaded that the sun rises every day, even without their being there.

My impressions? Here comes the grudging admission: It was worthwhile. The low-angled rays from the sun yielded interesting effects of light and shade.

Word of the day: Toes

Another blog about bookmarks and related oddities

My friend the Sandgroper recently tweeted me a link to the Forgotten Bookmarks site. What a cool idea! The blogger works in a bookshop that specialises in rare books. She blogs about the weird, interesting or touching things that she finds in the books. If you’re in a mood for macabre juxtapositions, take a look at the entry called From The Library of Paul Bunyan.

Of course, this worm was once a forgotten bookmark. I stayed buried in a book for many years, neglected and forgotten until the TC found me again about two years ago. That’s how I’ve managed to retain my youthful appearance and zest all these 25 long years!

Travel tip

Things happen. All the time. Whether you’re there or not.

Recommended restaurant

Montmartre by the Sea, corner of Elkhorn Ave and The Esplanade, just across the road from the beach. It’s one of the few places in Surfers Paradise that serves good coffee. Get there in the early morning for freshly-baked raspberry muffins.

The book I’m in

The Street Philosopher, by Matthew Plampin. A taut, realistic view of a newspaper correspondent’s experiences in and after the Crimean War.

The photos

Take a walk with me through the evening and early morning in Surfers Paradise. It’s a little surreal there. Things will happen. That’s guaranteed. Join me in contemplating your toes, if you’re lucky enough to have any.

Me getting bluesy:

Dawn in Surfers Paradise

The TC took this snap when about to set off in all innocence on the Scooby-Doo ride at Movie World:

Dawn in Surfers Paradise

Here comes the sun, it’s all right:

Dawn in Surfers Paradise

A lone surfer in paradise:

Dawn in Surfer's Paradise

Early sunlight glancing off a footprint in the sand:

Dawn in Surfer's Paradise

Sunlight forming a halo around your toes:

Dawn in Surfer's Paradise

Now it looks like the foot is bulging up at you, as if someone is walking upside down under the sand:

Dawn in Surfer's Paradise

Jonathan was there too:

Dawn in Surfer's Paradise

Shell shadows:

Dawn in Surfer's Paradise

This dude is finding the early morning pickings slim, just a cigarette but or two. He does have impressive toes:

Dawn in Surfer's Paradise

That’s all for today dudes.
Flying in a Tiger Moth over Sydney

This is the blog of a 25-year-old bookmark. I proudly boast my own Hallmark serial number, 95 HBM 80-1. You’ll probably want to read all about me and my Travelling Companion (the TC) .

Today’s travel notes

Let’s go fly a kite, up where the air is bright… It’s mid winter in Sydney, and the TC took it into her head to hop into a Tiger Moth and fly over Sydney.

“You picked the coldest day of the year,” the pilot announced when we arrived. And cold it was. One degree Celsius on the ground, but bright and clear and beautiful too.

My impressions? Soft, floating, breath taking, beautiful.

Word of the day: Butterfly

Will this worm ever become a butterfly? I do hope not. They’re ephemeral, fickle beings. “Word of the day” is right. But now I’ve had a go at flitting around the skies on papery wings and it has a certain something.

Travel tip

Don’t touch the pedals and levers in your cockpit. They work.

Recommended restaurant

Bring your own, hot, coffee.

Recommended aviation company

Airborne Aviation, at Camden airport near Sydney. They’re friendly, professional, no nonsense. The experience was just awesome. (Those are the TC’s words. She tends to enthuse.)

The book I’m in

Third Strike, by Zoë Sharp.

The TC rather likes the Charlie Fox thrillers.

The photos

Me getting up close and personal with a Tiger Moth’s propeller:

Flying in a Tiger Moth over Sydney

Me and the TC went up in a 1940s vintage Tiger Moth:

Flying in a Tiger Moth over Sydney

The TC-once-removed was in a Boeing Stearman, built in 1943. Both planes are roughly the same age. The Boeing has a bigger engine, but pushes out about the same horse power, according to our pilot. This discrepancy is easy to understand, our instructor went on with gleeful scorn, once you know that Tiger Moths are British while the Boeings were designed in the US!

Me cosying up to the Boeing Stearman:

Flying in a Tiger Moth over Sydney

Due to the Boeing’s ungainly design 😉 the pilots had to run the engine for 20 minutes to warm it up before takeoff. When we arrived, it was still stuttering and sputtering in the cold morning air.

The little Tiger Moth was altogether more obliging. Open the hatch:

Flying in a Tiger Moth over Sydney

Plug in the electric heater — that’s the black box with the electric cable at top left — and leave it to warm up:

Flying in a Tiger Moth over Sydney

Push the plane out into the open, and you’re ready to rock and roll. Here’s a view of the Moth’s two cockpits:

Flying in a Tiger Moth over Sydney

Here’s a Biggles snap of the TC, as requested by my friend the Sandgroper:

Flying in a Tiger Moth over Sydney

Up, up and away in the Tiger Moth:

Flying in a Tiger Moth over Sydney

We took off on grass, both planes together, and were in the air before we knew it. The TC-once-removed took some snaps from the Stearman too:

Flying in a Tiger Moth over Sydney

The Boeing Stearman is so comfy, it’s “like a big old lounge chair with a plane built around it”, said the pilot:

Flying in a Tiger Moth over Sydney

We flew for about 15 minutes, from Camden airport to Warragamba Dam, then headed back to Camden. Here’s Warragamba Dam seen from the Moth:

Flying in a Tiger Moth over Sydney

Here’s a short video of the Tiger Moth zooming up to the Boeing. Me and the TC are in the front cockpit of the Moth:

Sometimes we seemed close enough to touch. Here’s the Boeing Stearman, filmed by the TC from the Moth:

The Tiger Moth looks frail and, well, ephemeral. Like those butterfly dudes. But it holds its own against the good old Boeing. This video starts in the Boeing’s cockpit then swings round to find the Moth:

That’s all for today dudes.
The alleyways of Melbourne

This is the blog of a 25-year-old bookmark. I proudly boast my own Hallmark serial number, 95 HBM 80-1. You’ll probably want to read all about me and my Travelling Companion (the TC) .

Today’s travel notes

Me and the TC are back in Sydney after a few days in Melbourne. This worm is feeling good. A bit flat around the edges, mark you (uh, no, Mark is me not you) but mostly good.

My impressions? In Melbourne, it all happens in the alleyways.

Black is still, or again, in in Melbourne. Goth is too. And dark magic. Dark chocolate. Just the TC’s sort of town.

While in Melbourne, I was lucky enough to bump into Albert Stone. The TC waved me right under his nose. Albert does not move fast, but he does it with plenty of style. The inevitable pictures are below.

I met Chloe too.

Travel tip

Live in the moment. Or in the book about it.

That thought came to my mind while I was browsing through Albert’s web site. He’s one awesome dude.

Recommended restaurant

Any self-respecting chocolate lover must drop in at Koko Black, for Belgian chocolate indulgence.

Recommended accommodation

The Vibe Savoy hotel. Lots of mirrors, Art Deco plus a bit on the side, friendly service, excellent quality. The food is very tasty. But this worm has to warn that I spent some time in the TC’s bag next to her purse and noticed said purse grow considerably leaner. The Vibe Savoy is not cheap.

The book I’m in

Saturn’s Children, by Charles Stross.

The book tells the adventures of Freya Nakamachi-47. Like me and Albert, she is a remarkable creature. She is a humanoid (alas poor thing) robot, one of a series designed to be the perfect companion (er, concubine) for real humans. Unfortunately for Freya, humankind died out just a few years before she came into being. So she’s never met a real man. Not yet…

This worm recommends the book without reservation. It’s clever and funny (like me), fast (unlike Albert) and interesting (like me and Albert both). Luckily for this worm, the TC loves a good SF.

The photos

Me and Chloe:

The alleyways of Melbourne

Chloe resides behind a pane of glass (hence the reflections on the photograph) in the Young & Jackson Hotel, just next to Melbourne’s Flinders Street Station. Here’s another picture of her, sans reflections and regrettably sans moi too:

The alleyways of Melbourne

Young Chloe was painted in 1875 by a Frenchman called Jules Lefebvre. She is well loved by Melburnians, especially by beer lovers, and has pride of place in the bar on the first floor of Y&J’s. This is Chloe’s bar:

The alleyways of Melbourne

Here’s the Flinders Street Station as seen from Chloe’s window:

The alleyways of Melbourne

There are tales galore about the girl who modelled for the Chloe painting. Sadly, they have her committing suicide at the tender age of 21. But Chloe lives on. This worm heard that a painting of Chloe’s sister hangs in a Melbourne museum somewhere too, but that the National Trust and Heritage of Victoria has declared that Chloe herself will stay at Y&J’s.

The alleyways of Melbourne

Albert Stone, now there’s a man who knows how to live in the moment, how to make the moment last, and how to do it with style. To walk past him is impossible. To linger is essential. Here’s a picture of Albert, taken just as he notices yours truly thrust inelegantly into his space

Me and Albert:

The alleyways of Melbourne

He has an inexhaustible set of props that somehow just appear in his hand, even though he’s moving at the speed of a sluggish slug. Albert gave this worm a red carnation. I was most touched. Thank you dude:

The alleyways of Melbourne

Me and Albert, caught in the moment:

The alleyways of Melbourne

Alleyways rule in Melbourne:

The alleyways of Melbourne

This worm recommends a visit to one of the cafes in the Central Places alleyway, if only for the grimy Dickensian atmosphere:

The alleyways of Melbourne

The trams are tremendous. Here’s one in front of the GPO in Elizabeth Street:

The alleyways of Melbourne

Here’s another tram with a city backdrop:

The alleyways of Melbourne

If you prefer wide open spaces rather than alleyways, there’s plenty for you in Melbourne too. We came across a Tamil demonstration at Federation Square:

The alleyways of Melbourne

More of Federation Square:

The alleyways of Melbourne

The Yarra River runs through the city, with eating places and recreation spots on its banks:

The alleyways of Melbourne

Autumn colours:

The alleyways of Melbourne

For more colours, here’s a sunset view from the Vibe Savoy hotel, looking out over the Southern Cross Station roof towards the Melbourne Docklands:

The alleyways of Melbourne

Did anyone miss Peg?

That’s all for today dudes.
Sunrise in Sydney

This is the blog of a 25-year-old bookmark. I proudly boast my own Hallmark serial number, 95 HBM 80-1. You’ll probably want to read all about me and my Travelling Companion (the TC) .

Today’s travel notes

Me and the TC have been back home for a couple of weeks now, after our trip to San Francisco and Seattle. Jet lag is a thing of the past. The trip is already receding into the mists of memory.

Did we ever go at all? Sometimes this worm thinks a good book is more real than life itself.

Speaking of real life, there just has to be a better form of long-distance travel than the aircraft. The TC is not a good traveller. After about six hours on a plane, she becomes miserable, mussy and messy. Very messy.

Me, I’d suggest teleportation. Just drop into a fax machine and materialise on the other side of the world. Make sure it’s a high-definition, high-colour fax machine, or you may lose some vital bits.

Travel tip

Don’t double-knot your shoe laces until you’ve been through airport security.

Recommended restaurant

Home sweet home.

The book I’m in

The Villa, by Nora Roberts.

A good old-fashioned intrigue set in San Francisco and Italy, seasoned with romance and noble wines.

The photos

Me back in the bosom of my family:

Sunrise in Sydney

Hand was a bit emotional on my return. I was touched. Peg took centre stage as usual. In an uncharacteristic bout of soppiness, Drool allowed The Rival and Naught to drape themselves all over him. Naught is stuck in his waterproof suit. I don’t think we’ll ever get it off him. I did tell him of the perils of lamination, but he just would not listen. At least I escaped his fate. That’s the beauty of having a stunt worm.

Sydney is heading into winter. The sunrises are begrudgingly gorgeous at this time of year:

Sunrise in Sydney

With the longer nights and the swap to daylight saving time, there’s a chance you’ll be awake to enjoy a sunrise over the sea:

Sunrise in Sydney

That’s all for today dudes.
Shelly Beach in Manly

This is the blog of a 25-year-old bookmark. I proudly boast my own Hallmark serial number, 95 HBM 80-1. You’ll probably want to read all about me and my Travelling Companion (the TC) .

Today’s travel notes

There’s a heat wave on in Sydney, Australia. If you like the heat, this is where you should be. Weather reports say we’re the hottest place on the planet this weekend.

This is when all savvy Sidney-siders hit the beaches. Shelly Beach is one of the best. It’s all happening: scuba-diving, snorkelling, swimming, paddling, stand-up and sit-down canoeing, splashing or just plain lying around.

Shelly Beach is part of the Cabbage Tree Bay reserve, at the quiet end of Manly Beach. Unlike the rest of the Sydney ocean coast, Shelly Beach points north rather than east. It’s tucked away in a little fold of the coast and has a character all its own.

Travel tip

Stay cool.

The book I’m in

the witches of chiswick, by Robert Rankin.

Ha ha, very funny, especially if you’re an erudite worm like me.

The photos

Introducing Naught, my stunt worm:

Shelly Beach in Manly

Actually, Naught is a copy of me, clad in laminate so that I don’t have to risk the wrinkling, colour-leeching and sagging that inevitably result from an extended dunking.

Naught is not bad at bobbing about. Here’s an underwater scene at Shelly Beach. The bobbing bookmark makes a less-than-convincing entrance near the end of the video:

They say imitation is the best form of flattery. Not that this worm is in need of flattery. I’m quite aware of my own worth. I’ve named my stunt worm “Naught”, in honour of another underwater wonder, the Nautilus. And also because “naught” means “nothing”, and although Naught may look like me, he isn’t me and therefore he’s really nothing at all. (I just needed to make that absolutely clear.)

We didn’t find Nemo, nor even Captain Nemo, but Naught is a good alternative. And he seems to have found a mermaid:

Shelly Beach in Manly

There are lots of different fish in the water too. The TC managed to catch one or two in her camera lense. Here’s one:

Shelly Beach in Manly

Here’s another, pretty if you like that sort of thing:

Shelly Beach in Manly

Here are a few silver and striped specimens, perhaps in search of Nemo themselves:

Shelly Beach in Manly

Next up is a blue groper. There are few fish that have caught my interest, but this one does have a good quirk or two. A groper sees a sex change as part of the normal scheme of things. Rumour has it that all gropers start out as girls. Then, when the whim takes them, they turn into boys at the flip of a fin. Boys are blue, girls are greeny-yellow. They can live as long at 35 years, so they have plenty of time to choose their favourite colour. They can grow to about 60cm long. This one is blue so I guess it’s a boy. He’s followed by a flotilla of fans:

Shelly Beach in Manly

Here’s an “artistic” photo of a shoal of tiny little fish that swam round and round the TC, moving too fast to get a good picture:

Shelly Beach in Manly

Above water, Shelly Beach is all go too. Here’s a view from the west side of the beach, looking north towards Manly:

Shelly Beach in Manly

It’s a family beach, with a somewhat disquieting atmosphere of stormy prettiness. Kookaburras and cockatoos wheel above, gropers and other finned things swoop below. Sandwiched between is a layer of swimmers. And Naught, the bobbing bookmark. Any undercurrents are, on the whole, on their best behaviour. The overall effect is intriguing rather than menacing. Most days, anyway.

Here you’re on the west side of the beach looking east:

Shelly Beach in Manly

Now you’re in the middle of the beach, looking north towards Manly:

Shelly Beach in Manly

Here you’re standing on the rocks at the east side of Shelly Beach, looking west across the beach:

Shelly Beach in Manly

This photo is taken from the rocks on Shelly Beach, looking north towards Manly:

Shelly Beach in Manly

The TC made a short video to show it all happening at Shelly Beach. It reminds me of a page from a beginner’s language course, with people doing all sorts of things, contented smiles on their faces and useful little bubbles with the French/German/whatever words describing their activities. But luckily for you, there are no speech bubbles on this video.

As the camera pans past the rocks on the west end of the beach, you will see the well-known Bower surf break. It’s popular among Manly surfers, because it’s one of the last breaks to close out in big surf and offers the cleanest right handers in Sydney. That’s what they say. Take a look:

Meanwhile back home, it’s very very warm. Sydney is treating us to a heat wave. The tree ferns are suffering:

Shelly Beach in Manly

Poor old Drool really wanted to go to the beach too. I told him he’d sink like a stone. Or at least like a faux stone. Drool and Naught have one thing in common — there’s not much real about Drool either:

Shelly Beach in Manly

That’s all for today dudes.