me – Page 15 – Travelling Worm

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A quick crawl around Oahu, Hawaii

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

Making our way from Sydney to Chicago, we spent yesterday on Oahu, the most populated of the Hawaiian islands and home to the city of Honolulu. It’s not often that this worm admits to a mistake, but I do confess that up to a few weeks ago I thought Honolulu was on the island of Hawaii. If prodded (which is probably not a good thing to do to a worm) I may even admit that I assumed Waikiki was an island itself. But no, it’s a suburb of Honolulu.

We landed at Honolulu airport, spent a couple of hours getting lost in the city and surrounds, then found our hotel in Waikiki. Early next morning we enjoyed a couple more hours getting lost in the city, before finding the road that leads east. We drove across the island to Kaneohe on the east coast, then north to Kahuku, then back inland via Haleiwa and Wahiawa. We narrowly missed Pearl Harbor and caught our Chicago flight by the skin of our teeth.

The TC did not brush her hair all day.

My impressions? Honolulu is a city much like any other, and caters very well to the TC’s proclivity for getting lost. The east coast of the island is gorgeous. I want to go back and see the rest of it.

The book I’m in

The Midnight Road, by Tom Piccirilli. Satisfyingly weird, this book starts with the words, “Flynn remembered the night of his death more clearly than any other in his life”. I’m in the middle of the book, and wishing the TC would find the time to move me on a few pages so that I can see what happens to Flynn and the ghosts that populate his life.

Recommended airline

Hawaiian Airlines is friendly and efficient, and keeps the fuss of US travel down to a minimum.

The photos

Me at Kualoa Point, on the east coast of Oahu. With a palm tree, of course:

Honolulu, seen from one of the surrounding hills:

Palm trees, of course, outside our hotel in Waikiki:

The military presence on the island is noticeable. This number plate, spotted in a Honolulu parking garage by the TC once removed, is a case in point:

When we were in the queue at the airport waiting for the security checks, there was an army dude in full military togs in front of the TC. One of the officials leaned in and informed him very respectfully that he could take the express queue next time.

A military aircraft and a palm tree, of course:

The velvety striated range of hills that lines the east coast:

Mokolii Island, seen from Waikane on the east coast of Oahu:

A closer view of Mokolii, also known as Chinaman’s Hat island because of its shape:

Kualoa Point:

A Red Crested Cardinal, pretty but beady-eyed and not a worm’s best friend:

The TC admiring the view. Yes, it’s a bit gusty. And as I remarked before, she did not brush her hair all day. I think this preyed on her mind. I was careful not to remark on her dishevelled state, even after she boarded the aeroplane that evening.

Another gorgeous beach somewhere on the east coast. Probably Laie Bay. Applause to the photographer – no palm trees in close view:

Water. I steered clear, of course, but the TC has no such qualms:

Is a worm nowhere safe? First the Red Crested Cardinal, and now a Peahen lying in wait in a stairwell at Waimea Botanical Gardens. Neither bird is native to Hawaii, I might add:

Me, making a tactical retreat from a Peacock:

A steep hillock in Waimea Valley:

A Hawaiian temple, or heiau, at Waimea. This one is dedicated to Lono, the god of agriculture. It’s called the Hale o Lono, which means “house of Lono”, and was built between 1470 and 1700 AD.

The colourful bark of a Mindanao gum tree, spotted at Wahiawa. This gum tree is native to western Pacific islands such as Papua New Guinea and the Phillipines. Not, surprisingly, to Australia. It was introduced into Hawaii in the late 1920s.

At this point we remembered that we had a plane to catch, and hare-tailed it out of there. Alas, we spotted some signs to Pearl Harbor and decided to drop in. We got lost (again). We were definitely in the area:

By the time we saw the official signs we were already late:

We did go down that route, but discovered that seeing Pearl Harbor is a big deal involving boat trips and the abandonment of all bags, purses, large cameras, and what have you.

So we got on a plane to Chicago instead. More on that in my next post.
Sparkling webs in the mist

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 have been very busy of late. She’s writing a book! It has the somewhat unwieldy title of Confluence, Tech Comm, Chocolate: A wiki as platform extraordinaire for technical communication. She wrote a blog post about it. This worm is looking forward to a comfy place in the book, when it appears at the end of January.

At times when deep in the throes of writing, me and the TC have gone out for a walk. To blow away the cobwebs. And at times there were more cobwebs outside than in.

Follow me into a wonderland of mist and sparkling cobwebs, the world of spring in the Australian bush.

The book I’m in

A Clash of Kings, by George R.R. Martin. A grand epic worthy of any bookworm.

The photos

Me, braving the droplets and the chance of a nasty fall into wet mud, all for the sake of a snapshot:

Entering a wonderland of webs in the mist:

Sparkling cobweb wrapped around a twig:

Like the lights that people drape over Christmas trees:

Droplets shining in the early sun:

The flowers of a Tea Tree amongst the droplets:

Just another gorgeous sparkling web:

And another:

Cobwebs in the mist:

Droplets and big yellow flowers:

Cobwebs on curvy stems:

A web-festooned twig:

Shiny webs:

More eye candy:

Sparkly webs around two flower buds:

Webs draped across the trees:

Webbed twig and yellow flowers:

There’s nothing like a good web to liven up a dead thicket:

A closer look at those webs:

A glistening cocoon for spiders:

Another glistening spiders’ nest:

The coup de grace:

That’s all for today, dudes.
The Basin, Palm Beach, NSW Australia

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’s mum is in town! Yesterday the TC took her mum and the family to The Basin, near Palm Beach just north of Sydney. The Basin is one of the bays in the Hawkesbury waterways, on the shores of the Ku-ring-gai Chase National Park. To reach it, catch a 20-minute ferry ride from Palm Beach.

This worm heard that the outing would involve a ferry crossing and some splashing around in a lagoon. Being a pulp fiction kind of guy, water is anathema to me. So I stayed at home and sent Naught, my trusty stunt worm, instead. You may remember Naught, from his debut in my post about Shelly Beach.

Naught’s impressions? If you’re looking for a relaxing day out of Sydney, where natural beauty and serenity vie with the kookaburras for your attention, The Basin is beaut.

Recommended eating

Take a picnic lunch. There are no restaurants or shops at The Basin, but you can grill food on the barbecues provided.

The book I’m in

After Shock, by Sam Fisher. A good action story, the second in the series about the E-Force rescue team.

Let me tell you a secret: This worm was comfortably ensconced in Philip K. Dick’s book, Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? But the TC hoiked me out of there, saying her brain is too lazy for that book at the moment.

The photos

Naught, my stunt double, taking a dip in the sparkling waters of The Basin:

Palm Beach Wharf:

Heading out from Palm Beach across an arm of the Hawkesbury River, destination The Basin. Don’t be deceived by the halo. This is not Saint Wordsworm, but Naught who has already donned his protective coat:

The heads and hills of the Hawkesbury River waterways:

Fellow wayfarers:

Bennets Wharf, the ferry stop before The Basin:

The entrance of The Basin’s lagoon, seen from the ferry:

The ferry approaching The Basin Wharf:

Jonathan waits at The Basin Wharf to greet the travellers:

Wallabies abound at The Basin. This mother has a full pouch. The pink cross struts are the feet of the little joey inside the pouch:

Another wallaby on the shores of the lagoon:

A kookaburra takes an interest in the picnic:

A bird’s eye view. Will ya look at that beak! At this stage even a stunt worm is well advised to take cover:

That’s all for today, dudes.
Powerful Owl in Sydney

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 went wandering in the woods yesterday. The first sign of trouble was the ruckus made by the Currawongs. If you hear them kicking up a fuss, there’s sure to be something interesting happening. The TC followed the noise and saw a big, shadowy shape high up in a gum tree. The Currawongs and Magpies were dive-bombing it. That usually means that the birds have found a possum out and about in the day time, and are having fun tormenting the poor disoriented creature

The TC pulled out her camera and zoomed in as far as she could. Check the photos to see what the lens revealed.

The book I’m in

Fourth Day, by Zoë Sharp. A powerful action thriller with a touch of fierce beauty.

The photos

My apologies for disappointing all my fans. There’s no photo of me today. I stayed safely deep in a book, as all wise worms do when a Powerful Owl is in town.

Here’s what the TC first saw. Can you spot the bird? It’s well camouflaged:

The bright glare of a Powerful Owl:

In the video you can hear the Currawongs calling. The owl raises its head to look around, then goes quietly back to sleep. It’s holding the remains of its prey, most likely a possum:

The owl takes a careful look at the TC:

Please excuse the jumpy shots. It was a very steep angle and the lens was just about at maximum zoom. And of course the TC, bless her cotton booties, was somewhat excited about the whole experience.

That’s all for today dudes.
San Diego, California

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 spent a few days in San Diego last week, taking a well-earned rest after our hard work in Long Beach. San Diego is bigger and more vibrant than this worm expected. It’s very like the other bits of California that we’ve seen, in that the air is bright and the roads are wide. There’s some Mexican influence, but not as much as this worm was expecting. The city centre (“downtown”) is quite flat and is right on the sea shore. There are lovely little hills all round, housing Balboa Park, the zoo and La Jolla.

My impressions? Seaside prettiness, big-city architecture, high tech industry and a bit of military action combine to make San Diego an interesting place to visit.

Travel tip

Take a coach and harbour tour to get the big picture, then pick the areas that you want to see more closely. The TC decided that she’d seen enough of La Jolla from the bus. This worm concurred.

Recommended accommodation

The Bristol Hotel in downtown San Diego. It’s close to the harbour, the restaurants and the trolley buses. Service is very warm and friendly, and the rooms are spacious and comfortable.

Recommended restaurant

O’Brothers in the Gaslamp district of San Diego. It’s on the second floor of Horton Plaza. Three of the staff members welcomed the TC, one by one, as she walked in. Even from the depths of my book in her bag, I could feel her heart go pitty-pat! She declared her meal (a Cobb’s salad) to be delicious, and there was a lot of it. Fast food, yes, but of good quality. The TC made a point of finding and complimenting the manager.

The book I’m in

The ELI Event, by Dave Gash. I’m at the beginning of chapter 18, and wishing the TC would hurry up and move me on. This is a great read! You may think my opinion is swayed by the fact that Dave Gash is a friend of mine and the TC’s. But no. This worm is unbending and unbendable when it comes to matters of literary review. Are you looking for science fiction, time travel, artificial intelligence, great characters and action packaged as a good solid yarn? Then this is the book for you!

The photos

Me, Peg and Hugs at the entrance to the Old Town State Historic Park in San Diego:

Who’s that with me and Peg, I hear you gasp? That’s Hugs the Koala. She’s a cuddly sort and a true blue Ozzie, although, funnily enough, she joined us in Long Beach. This worm has grown quite attached to her, and she to me. I’m guessing she’s a keeper in the TC’s little clan of hangers-on.

The Old Town Market in the State Historic Park, complete with bell tower, cactus and pointy succulent:

The San Diego Old Town was established in 1769, the birthplace of California, our coach driver informed us.

The TC was quite taken with the blue sky peeking through the tower of the Immaculate Conception church:

El Campo Santo, an old graveyard in the Old Town, now happy with children running through it. In 1993, the city used ground-penetrating radar to discover these old graves under Linwood Street:

The tourist section of the Old Town:

The Coronado Bridge, spanning the gap between the mainland and Coronado Island. The coach driver told us that 277 people have committed suicide by jumping off this bridge:

The Hotel Del Coronado, 1887, built in 11 months!

A fighter aircraft over the hotel, providing poetic contrast in this idyllic setting:

Coronado beach:

Another guardian looming out of the gloom:

Me and the TC took a boat tour of North Harbour. Lo and behold, there was Jonathan, gliding over the city:

North Harbour is awash with naval activity:

A navy boat with a dolphin on board, heading out for a training session:

The dolphin in training with the navy personnel:

A fighter jet taking off on North Island:

Me and Peg, about to board the USS Midway. This aircraft carrier is the longest commissioned in the US navy. It is now a museum:

On the flight deck, a jet attached to the launching mechanism:

A tale of woe follows. After an hour or so on board, the TC decided she wanted to get off.

Off the ship. Leave the boat. Go to the mainland. Disembark. She uttered all of those phrases, and more, to one of the official guides on the boat. He was standing at a spot near one of the planes, looking uninterested. And instead of showing us the quick exit, he sent us on a round-the-corridors trip into the ship’s innards.

When the TC emerged pink and flustered at the exact some spot, let’s call it spot A, the same dude professed not to have understood her the first time, and sent her to the end of a queue of people waiting to do the “Island Tour”. When she protested, he assured her that this was the only way off. “Just go all the way down there,” he said.

So we did, bypassing irate queue-hoggers, only to be told we were in the wrong place. A second dude took us through a cordonned-off door, up some stairs and through some corridors, and ushered us out with a flourish – right back at spot A, where Dude 1 was still to be seen!

At this point, the TC bless her cotton socks burst into tears. Amidst the floods, she remonstrated that there must be a way off, there should be a big “EXIT” sign, this is ridiculous, the only available sign says “EXIT, DO NOT ENTER” … and so on.

At last, Dude 2 got the general flow of things and took us to an unmarked lift, which took us down into the bowels of the monster and after a few more corridors led to the gangplank. It took us more than half an hour to get off that boat.

So, here’s another travel tip for free: If you’re ever on the USS Midway, plot your exit route at each level and don’t believe anything the official guides tell you.

A corridor on the USS Midway:

Pointing the way to the battle dressing station, a sober reminder of the crew’s activities of yore:

Me peering through a porthole:

Phew, back on dry land and in the open air at last. The Santa Fe Amstrak station, right near the harbour:

Inside Santa Fe station:

The San Diego trolleys are made by Siemens in Düsseldorf, West Germany:

Looking up Broadway from the docks towards downtown San Diego:

Now, this is how to design an interesting, attractive shopping mall. Horton Plaza:

Inside Horton Plaza:

Some people have big feet and some people have huge feet. A polar bear at San Diego Zoo:

And some people know how to pose for a pretty picture:

That’s all for today dudes.
Long Beach, California

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 are in Long Beach, California. The TC is attending a conference on technical communication. I’ve come along for the ride.

So far we’ve seen the beach, which is long, and some gracious old buildings, which complement the new entertainment complexes, and lots of friendly people.

The TC had a strange encounter on our second day here. As so often happens, she found herself wandering around in places where she’s not supposed to be. At the moment, and perhaps perpetually, the footpaths in Long Beach are in disarray due to some major road reconstruction. The TC went wandering down the causeway, dodging barricades and warning signs, in search of a more interesting route to the shops. She strolled past the only other soul in this bleak area, then did a double take when she noticed that the other woman was weeping. Quite forgetting that she was in California, she turned back and asked the passer by, “Are you OK?” This question elicited a long tale of woe, revolving around the fact that the other poor soul’s “number is 8” and that the number 8 had not been on a good footing since the 8th of August 1968. The TC, bless her cotton socks, took it all in her stride, commiserated and assured the woman that the wheel of fortune will keep turning and will come back round to her in good time. Then they parted ways, each to continue meandering more or less contentedly on their life’s journey.

I myself stayed wisely silent in the safety of my book.

My impressions? Long Beach is smaller and more drab than this worm expected. Still, it has that great open feeling that I’ve noticed in other parts of California.

Travel tip

Don’t speak to strangers unless you’re ready for them to talk right back at you.

Recommended accommodation

Hyatt Regency, 200 South Pine Avenue in Long Beach. This is the conference venue. It’s plush and convenient, with friendly and efficient service. Photo below.

The book I’m in

Portent, by James Herbert. It’s an unsettling coincidence that the TC chose to start reading this book just before the awful series of earthquakes and tsunamis that have hit Japan, and so soon after the earthquakes in New Zealand and the disasters in other parts of the world. Portent is a somewhat mystical book, weaving natural disasters into an extended Gaia philosophy built upon James Lovelock’s ideas. This worm recommends the book for a good fast read in James Herbert’s best style.

The photos

Me at Long Beach:

Long Beach, California

A building that graces one end of the beach:

Long Beach, California

Another gracious building, in Pine Street:

Long Beach, California

Below is the Hyatt Regency on Pine Street. The waterway around the hotel is part of the Rainbow Lagoon Park:

Long Beach, California

More of the Rainbow Lagoon Park, round behind the hotel. In a fast action scene in the film “Last Action Hero”, starring Arnold Schwarzenegger, this park masqueraded as the La Brea Tar Pits:

Long Beach, California

Most days, Arnie is not around and the park is home to a quieter, more contemplative crowd:

Long Beach, California

Here’s a view from the hotel window showing Shoreline Village, a tourist’s delight of food, sweets, T-shirts and lovely water scenes:

Long Beach, California

Moving slightly to the left of the above view, you can see the rest of Shoreline Village, as well as the Queen Mary which is now a hotel and tourist ship, and another ship at dock:

Long Beach, California

The TC and I trickled down to Shoreline Village to soak up the sights:

Long Beach, California

Me looking back at Long Beach proper, from the boardwalk at Shoreline Village. Or, I should say, from just off the boardwalk. As you can see, the TC does not hesitate to dump me in the dirt if it serves to make a better snapshot:

Long Beach, California

A blog post about California would not be complete without a sunset, preferably with some palm trees tangled up in it:

Long Beach, California

That’s all for today dudes.
Climbing Fox Glacier in New Zealand

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 have just returned home after a week-long trip to New Zealand’s South Island. It was a trip of adventure, beauty and magnificence. For this worm, the high point was a trip up Fox Glacier on the island’s west coast.

The TC and her clan did the “Fox Trot”, a half-day walk up to and over the glacier. This worm went along for the ride. I now have a certificate to prove my prowess at glacier scaling. Photos below.

My impressions? Bizarrely beautiful shapes. Cold. Danger enough to add a delicious tingle of fear.

Travel tip

Take a few layers of clothing. You’ll feel warm while walking through the forest on the way to the glacier, freezing cold in the arctic wind on top of the glacier, and various temperatures in between.

Recommended accommodation

Westhaven Motel in Fox Glacier Township. The manager is delightfully hospitable, the broadband access is free, the rooms are spacious and comfortable. This was the best accommodation of our New Zealand trip.

The book I’m in

Clean Cut, by Lynda La Plante. A good cop and crim yarn, with a gritty ending.

The photos

Me approaching Fox Glacier:

Mark Wordsworm nearing the foot of Fox Glacier

Our guide described the hazards of the cave at the foot of the glacier and the dangers of getting too close:

A view of the glacier from above, showing how it curves around a corner and up the further slope. There’s more over the horizon too, though we didn’t see it:

A view of Fox Glacier from above

Zooming in to see two tour groups already on the ice:

Two tour groups on Fox Glacier

Now it’s our turn. The TC hung back to take this shot of our group climbing up the stairs hacked into the ice. See the weird and wonderful shapes the ice has formed:

Our group climbing up Fox Glacier

I made it! Me on the glacier:

Mark Wordsworm, conqueror of glaciers

Shapes and colours in the ice:

Shapes and colours in the ice on Fox Glacier

Sorbet, anyone?

Looking down into a crevasse, with a glacial stream of water at the bottom:

The TC venturing down into the crevasse:

The TC venturing into a crevasse

At the bottom of the crevasse, beautiful and scary:

A crevasse on Fox Glacier

Me and Peg, perched on a stone and leaning up against the TC’s boot. Ah yes, did I neglect to mention that Peg was there too? I’m avoiding contact with the ice itself. Nasty wet cold stuff, not very compatible with cardboard folk. Note the crampons strapped to the TC’s boot, inelegant but functional:

Me, Peg and the TC's crampon-fortified boot

Our guide carving a path for us:

Every now and then we heard the clink and clatter of a chunk of ice breaking off somewhere in the ice below us. Scary? Oh yeah! Every now and then the TC stuck her stick into a stream or a hole, and the stick went down and down and down as far as it could reach. Scary? Oh yeah! We stood on platforms, stepped to the next one and looked back, to see we’d been standing on a thin sheet of ice with not much below. Fun? Oh yes indeed.

Looking up towards the point where the glacier turns a corner:

Climbing Fox Glacier in New Zealand

As far as we could see:

The furthest point we could see when up on the glacier

Climbing down off the glacier:

Climbing down off Fox Glacier

Walking away from the glacier. The flat valley floor and extremely steep sides are characteristic of a valley carved by a glacier. In past centuries, Fox Glacier has been much lower down and created the valley we see here:

Walking away from Fox Glacier along the valley floor

This is to certify that Mark Wordsworm did visit the mighty Fox Glacier, did brave the inclemency of the South Westland climate and did endure the rambling discourses of the guides:

Certificate of this worm's glacier-conquering prowess

That’s all for today dudes.
The Chasm and a couple of Kea parrots in New Zealand

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).

In my earlier post I wrote about our trip to Milford Sound, on New Zealand’s South Island. On the road to Milford Sound is The Chasm, well worth seeing and hearing in its own right.

The forest surrounding The Chasm:

New Zealand native forest at The Chasm on the way to Milford Sound

The Chasm is a gnarled and whorled channel dug into the rock by a river. The TC started this video with a view of some people, to give perspective, then moved down to the river, to try and show the size of the gorge and the swirling rock patterns:

You may encounter a Kea parrot on your way to and from Milford.This one was patrolling the car park when we arrived at The Chasm:

A Kea parrot at The Chasm

The TC, of course, cooed and clucked over the Keas. This worm stayed safely in a book in the TC’s bag.

This Kea strutted up the roadside barrier while we waited our turn to go through the Homer tunnel on the Milford road:

That’s all for today dudes.
Cruising down Milford Sound, New Zealand

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 spent a day in Milford Sound, on the west coast of New Zealand’s South Island. Milford Sound is actually not a sound, but a fjord. The difference is that a sound is carved out by water and then back-filled by the sea, whereas a fjord is carved out by a glacier and then back-filled by the sea. A fjord typically has a flat bottom and very steep sides, while a sound has a v-shaped bottom and sloping sides.

We took a boat trip that set off from the bottom end of the fjord and headed up the southern side towards the sea, turned at the mouth and then returned along the northern side of the fjord. The TC chose a “Nature Cruise” rather than a “Scenic Cruise”. A nature cruise is on a smaller boat, that gets you closer to the water and also closer to the towering mountains that form the banks of the fjord. We got so close that we could touch the land. We even took a shower under a couple of the magnificent waterfalls that crash down the mountains all round.

My impressions? Milford Sound is magical. Awesome. This worm tries to avoid using that word, but it works here. The drive from Te Anau is beautiful too. Awesome indeed.

Travel tip

Drive to Milford Sound yourself, rather than taking a bus tour. It gives you more time to look around and to stop when you like.

Recommended accommodation

Amber Court Motel, on Quintin Street in Te Anau. There’s only one hotel in Milford itself, and it was fully booked. The Amber Court Motel offers friendly service, and is clean and convenient.

The book I’m in

Bad Luck and Trouble, by Lee Child. Jack Reacher gets together with some old buddies from his army unit. It’s like having a number of Reachers all in one book.

The photos

Me cruising down Milford Sound:

Cruising through Milford Sound, New Zealand

The drive to Milford is stunningly beautiful. This worm fears he will run out of adjectives and adverbs before he can do justice to the majesty of the views all round. So let’s let the pictures speak for themselves.

It’s mid summer in New Zealand, but many of the peaks are covered in snow:

Snow-capped mountains on the way to Milford

Winding rivers and low-lying cloud marked our early-morning drive:

Rivers and cloud on the way to Milford

Cloud drifting off a snow-shrouded giant:

Cloud streaming away from a snow-shrouded peak on the way to Milford

A view from the boat on Milford Sound:

Two boats on Milford Sound, dwarfed by the scenery

Looking back down Milford Sound, with the 160m-high Bowen Falls on the left:

Looking into Milford Sound with Bowen Falls on the left

A closer look at Bowen Falls, with some kayaks and rowers providing perspective just left of middle bottom:

Bowen Falls, with three kayaks and people at middle left

Another glacier-formed valley, butting onto Milford Sound, with a waterfall and pleasing play of light:

Light and shade with waterfall in Milford Sound, and a cruise boat giving perspective

Unusually for Milford Sound, the weather is bright and sunny. The TC, bless her cotton socks, professed herself a bit disappointed. She had been hoping for mist-induced mystery and glimpses of mountain giants and frost-breathing waterfalls straight out of Tolkien. So she was very pleased with the above shot.

Waterfalls all over the place:

Waterfalls in Milford Sound

Heading into the fjord towards the Milford Sound harbour, looking back at Harrison Cove:

Looking back towards Harrison Cove in Milford Sound

That’s all for today dudes.
The seventh most dangerous road in the world

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) .

In my previous post, aptly titled Adventures in Queenstown, New Zealand, I promised to publish a video of us driving down Skipper’s Canyon, the world’s seventh most dangerous road. Eat your heart out, Jeremy Clarkson! Here it is:

The speed limit on that road is 100 km per hour. We did it at an average of 20 km per hour, and that felt plenty fast enough. We were in a Land Rover Defender. Our guide assured us that ordinary two-wheel drive cars could manage the road too. Hah, says this worm.

That’s all for today dudes.