This is the blog of Mark Wordsworm, the travelling worm. I’m a 40-year-old bookmark (give or take a few years) and 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 spent a day at Lake Mungo, deep in the Australian Outback. While there, we visited the intriguing sand dune formation named the Walls of China, or the Mungo lunette.
The book I’m in
Where Song Began, by Tim Low. A telling of the origins on the Australian continent of all the world’s songbirds, rich in detail and convincingly told.
Travel tips
Sign up for the sunset tour of the Walls of China. The evening lighting adds beauty and drama to the scene, and you’re able to walk right up onto the dunes with your guide.
Recommended accommodation
Mungo Lodge offers camping and cabins. The TC opted for a cabin, which was very comfortable. The welcome is warm and the restaurant food is good.
The photos
To reach the Walls of China, you drive across the dried-up bed of Lake Mungo. The road is good and wide. On the horizon, the Walls of China grow as you approach:
The extra width of the road is especially welcome at dawn and dusk. It gives you time to see the kangaroos that pop out of the bush at random intervals.
The colours are fluid, changing with the time of day, the weather, the camera settings. In the middle of the day, the sand is all silver and pale yellows. Perhaps this is where the name “Mungo lunette” comes from:
In late afternoon, the yellow of the sun exerts more influence:
We were with a guide, which meant that we could walk onto the dunes and see the formations up close:
Wind erosion has formed narrow gullies which you can walk through, to avoid damaging the fragile dunes:
Colours deepen as the sun moves lower:
As the sun disappears, it’s time to make our way back:
Come daylight, and we’re on the road again, saying farewell to Mungo National Park:
If you’d like to see more pictures of the national park, read my post titled Lake Mungo.
This is the blog of Mark Wordsworm, the travelling worm. I’m a 40-year-old bookmark (give or take a few years) and 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 reached Lake Mungo, deep in the Australian Outback. This post is about Mungo National Park and the dry lake that forms its centre. I’ll write a separate post about the Walls of China, an unusual sand formation in the middle of the park.
The book I’m in
Bitter Sun, by Beth Lewis. I’m tucked in near the beginning of this book. The story is unfolding, and I’m intrigued by the characters and the setting.
Travel tips
Take spare supplies with you: lights, water, food, warm clothing, and extra fuel for your vehicle. Mungo National Park is remote. The closest fuel is about 110 km away. It’s a good idea to be self sufficient in case of emergency.
Recommended accommodation
Mungo Lodge offers camping and cabins. The TC opted for a cabin, which was very comfortable. The welcome is warm and the restaurant food is good.
The photos
Me at the Red Top lookout in Mungo National Park:
From the direction of Ivanhoe and Clare, Garnpang Road provides entry to Mungo National Park:
We were somewhat later than planned. The sunset over Garnpung Lake, though pretty, was a trifle scary — it meant we’d be driving in the dark. Janet the Jeep, along with others of our party, couldn’t resist the photo opportunity:
After a nail-biting drive, ably handled by the TC and Janet, we arrived safely at Mungo Lodge. Janet sashayed merrily across the corrugations, dodging kangaroos that bopped out of the bush at random. By the time we arrived at the lodge, it was full dark. The photos are from the following day.
The reception at Mungo Lodge is friendly and welcoming:
The dining area is spacious and warm:
Our cabin looked out over a grassy area, where kangaroos and birds frolicked in the early morning. (If you want to see the birds, take a look at the TC’s bird blog, Sydney Birder. She’s posting the birds from our Outback trip. The Mungo shots will be there shortly.) Here’s our cabin at Mungo Lodge:
This worm was delighted to find evidence of my cousins, the Witchetty grubs. They’re imposing larvae that transform into Ghost Moths. A shed Witchetty grub skin lay on the ground outside our cabin, about as long as the TC’s longest finger:
Next morning, we headed out on the self-guided driving tour through the park:
One of the stops was at the Red Top lookout:
The sand formations are the result of wind erosion:
A sign welcomes you to Lake Mungo:
Despite the name, there’s no water. The lake has been dry for more than 10,000 years. The next shot was taken from the Walls of China viewing area (which will be the topic of my next post). Behind the bench, the dry expanse of Lake Mungo stretches out:
The round balls in the foreground are Paddy Melons, an invasive fruit that occurs in much of the Outback.
Every now and then, a flower softens the harsh beauty of the landscape:
This is the blog of Mark Wordsworm, the travelling worm. I’m a 40-year-old bookmark (give or take a few years) and 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 left White Cliffs and its opal mines (check my previous post) to drive deeper into the Australian Outback. We stopped at a dry salt lake in the Willandra Lakes Region, near Ivanhoe, NSW.
The book I’m in
Bitter Sun, by Beth Lewis. I’m tucked in right at the beginning of this book, and already I’m intrigued by the main character.
Travel tips
Hop out of the vehicle and breath in the air. You never know who’ll pass by.
The photos
Me and Peg on the edge of the salt pan:
The vegetation around the salt pan is low and sparse. Just behind yours truly is a small Old Man Saltbush, one of many in the area. The leaves are edible and, you guessed it, salty.
The next pic shows what the scene might look like if you forget to don your sunglasses (or if, like the TC, you forget to adjust the camera settings to cater for the bright light):
But wait, what’s that shape on the edge of the salt pan? Zooming in reveals the passer by:
It’s a feral cat. They can survive even the harsh conditions of the Australian Outback.
Viewed through sunglasses, or with adjusted camera settings, the salt pan is easier to view but less aetherial:
The salt pan is on the edge of Garnpung Lake Road, which passes through the regions of Ivanhoe and Willandra Lakes. It’s a dirt road, but good driving through beautiful country. Janet the Jeep was in her element :
This is the blog of Mark Wordsworm, the travelling worm. I’m a 40-year-old bookmark (give or take a few years) and 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 spent the last few days in the Australian Outback. Although it was a short trip (six days in total), it was the experience of a life time. This post tells of our stay in White Cliffs, a small and remote opal mining settlement in far western New South Wales.
The book I’m in
The Book of Eve, by Meg Clothier. Ancient intrigue and engaging characters. I’m now nestled near the end of the book. It’s been quite a ride.
Travel tips
Take spare fuel, in case the fuel station at White Cliffs is closed or doesn’t have the right fuel for your vehicle.
Recommended accommodation
White Cliffs Underground Motel. The experience is unique. The rooms are entirely underground, as are many of the homes in the area, dug out to provide cool shelter from the extreme heat in summer. Some of the dugouts are converted opal mine shafts and tunnels.
The photos
Me and Peg in our dugout at the White Cliffs Underground Motel, catching the breeze from a ventilation shaft:
White Cliffs is in the middle of nowhere (by some definition of nowhere), at 1,025 km west of Sydney and 781 km north-east of Adelaide. The last part of the route is Opal Miners Way, picturesque especially in the late afternoon with the colours blowing across the landscape:
Janet the Jeep waits while the TC snaps the sundown shots. Janet herself is picturesque at sundown too:
The entrance to the Underground Motel is long and low, with the rooms built into the hill behind:
Being a bookmark, yours truly is comfortable with snug spaces. Other folks might worry that the underground corridors and rooms will feel small and close. However, inside the Underground Motel, the walls are painted white, good for giving an impression of cheer and space:
In search of our dugout:
Passing the stairs that lead up to the roof:
Our dugout:
We arrived quite late, and so missed the famed sunset. The TC, bless her cotton socks, sprang up before dawn and led us up to the roof to catch the sunrise:
The rectangular low blocks are covered air shafts for the rooms below. In the car park in the distance, Janet the Jeep waits patiently.
After breakfast, we explored the opal mines. Mounds of white dirt encircle the mine shafts. Take care, dear traveller, not to misstep and fall down a hole:
Pieces of equipment stand around, some in use, some not:
Inventive methods are used to cover open shafts, like these old bed frames:
Underneath the bed frames:
Swallows perch on old metal drums, which are also used to warn of open mine shafts:
Old working vehicles rest in peace, like this Commer truck:
Your trusty bookmark cosied up to Commer the Truck:
Janet the Jeep needed fuel, but we discovered that the fuel station at White Cliffs opens late on Sundays. Janet was keen to be on the road again, so the TC Once Removed (he’s the TC’s other travelling companion) topped up from our spare tank:
Bonus tip from the TC Once Removed: Cover your sleeves and wear gloves if you can, otherwise you’ll smell of fuel for the rest of the trip.
Stay tuned for more of our Outback adventures. Until my next post…
This is the blog of Mark Wordsworm, the travelling worm. I’m a 40-year-old bookmark (give or take a few years) and 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 continue our Outback adventures. Our first overnight stop, after a long day of driving, was Nyngan. This is a little Australian town with a big heart. In the middle of the town is a large steel statue of a fisherman, fondly dubbed the Big Bogan. There are layers of meaning behind the word bogan. Read on to know more about the statue, the name, and the town.
The book I’m in
The Book of Eve, by Meg Clothier. Ancient intrigue and engaging characters. This worm is about a third of the way through the book, and is thoroughly enjoying it.
Travel tips
Take the time to stop at little towns along the way. There’s a story at every town.
Recommended accommodation
Nyngan Riverside Tourist Park. It’s a well-kept camp ground that has place for tents and trailers, and also offers stand-alone cabins for hire.
The photos
Me with the Big Bogan and his dog, Rusty:
The town of Nyngan lies in the Bogan Shire council in western New South Wales. With a population of around 1,900 people, Nyngan is a small town with a big heart.
The Big Bogan statue was erected in 2015, to give the town a tourist attraction and to honour the history of the area. The dog, Rusty, was added in 2022. The Big Bogan is made of steel and is nearly 6 metres high:
On the statue are various decorations, including a large spider on its leg and the Southern Cross star formation on its arm. Between the man and the dog rests an esky (an Australian word for a cooler).
What does the word bogan mean, a faithful reader might wonder, and where did it come from? There are numerous stories about the word and its origins. Your trusty Wordsworm likes to tell it like this: The word bogan has acquired an unfortunate meaning over recent years. It’s used to refer to country people, along the lines of country bumpkin or redneck. However, the original meaning of the word in the Aboriginal Wiradjuri language is “birthplace of a great man”.
Through the town of Nyngan runs the Bogan River, on its way from the Harvey Ranges to join the Darling River. The TC snapped this photo in the early evening, at the Riverside Tourist Park where we spent the night:
Early the next morning, a fearsome raptor surveyed its territory from the river bank. Needless to say, yours truly, Wordsworm, stayed out of sight. There’s no place like a good book, especially when danger looms:
In 1990, Nyngan was devastated by the worst flooding since the settlement of the town. Almost all residents had to be airlifted to safety. To commemorate the rescue, an Army helicopter stands on a pole outside the railway station:
The railway station itself has been converted into a museum:
Outside the museum stands a replica of an old Royal Mail coach that used to travel between Bathurst and Bourke. Imagine traversing the Australian Outback in a horse-drawn vehicle like this:
The Commonwealth Bank building in Nyngan was built sometime between the First and Second World Wars. The building was designed by E.H. Henderson, who was Chief Architect of the Commonwealth of Australia from 1929-1939. He designed many of the Commonwealth Banks buildings in Australia:
Our Outback adventures continue. Until my next post…
This is the blog of Mark Wordsworm, the travelling worm. I’m a 40-year-old bookmark (give or take a few years) and 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 heading west, into the Australian Outback. On our first day, signs beside the road welcomed us to the Blue Mountains, the Inner West, and then the Great Outback. We took an interesting route, inadvertently stumbling across part of the Australian silo art trail. Along the way, we encountered our first road trains and found some cotton.
The book I’m in
The Book of Eve, by Meg Clothier. Ancient intrigue and engaging characters. This worm is about a third of the way through the book, and is thoroughly enjoying it.
Travel tips
Be off the roads before dark, if you can. There are no lights in the Outback, and the kangaroos like to cross the road in the dark.
The photos
Me at the water tower in Warren, New South Wales:
Warren is a small town in the middle of a thriving agricultural area: sheep and wool, wheat, and cotton.
In fact, the road to Warren is lined with cotton:
It’s white and fluffy, just as you’d expect cotton puffs to be:
We encountered our first road trains, the infamously long and fast semi-trucks that transport produce around Australia. Notice the warning boards on the front (and back) of the truck, announcing that it’s a road train. Notice also the length (this is all one truck) and the size in comparison to Janet the Jeep behind the truck:
In this case, the produce was, you guessed it, cotton:
At Warren, we found our first water tower art. The tower was erected in 1939, and the artwork was added in 2021. The concept design was by Sam Brooks. The work was painted by Bastian Allfrey.
Maggie posed in front of the tower for scale:
Nevertire is one of those Australian towns with an amazing name. The town’s water tower depicts the agricultural activities of the area. First, sheep shearing:
The artwork was completed in 2022 by Artist Bastian Allfrey. Another side of the tower shows wheat:
And, this worm’s favourite, cotton:
A posse of kangaroos kept an eye on the TC as she took the photos:
I’ll post more of our Outback adventures. In the meantime…
This is the blog of Mark Wordsworm, the travelling worm. I’m a 40-year-old bookmark (give or take a few years) and 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 drove the historic Bridle Track and the scenic Root Hog Road this weekend with a group of friends. We camped overnight at Mary Flynn Reserve on the Bridle Track.
The book I’m in
Ten Days in A Mad-House, by Nellie Bly. A somewhat horrifying true tale of a reporter in 1887, who had herself checked into an asylum for the insane and wrote a book about her experiences.
Travel tips
You need a four-wheel drive vehicle to follow the tracks mentioned in this post. If you decide not to camp nor to stop at the various reserves along the way, you can drive the Bridle Track in two to three hours.
The photos
Me with Janet the Jeep and Peg:
Introducing the newest member of our merry menagerie: Janet the Jeep. She’s a 2014 Jeep JK Wrangler, manual transmission, with a 3.6 litre, 6-cylinder petrol engine. She has two side doors rather than four, and is known as a shortie because of her short wheel base. Unlike yours truly, Janet is not built for speed but she’s plucky and strong. More like Peg, in fact.
A keen-eyed reader might notice the little Jeep icon on the windscreen next to this worm. Janet is cute, and she knows it.
At the start of the Bridle Track, a sign explains the need for a 4WD vehicle and due care:
Most of the track is a well-graded dirt road. In some sections, there’s a high rocky wall on one side and a steep drop-off on the other. In this section, the road curved through a rocky bluff:
In years gone by, one specific section of the Bridle Track was very narrow and slippery: the infamous Monaghan’s Bluff. NSW state has since built a bypass, though a sign still greets you as you enter the area:
The Bridle Track was built in the early 1800s, to give gold miners and settlers a route from Bathurst to Hill End. Bathurst is now a thriving regional city and Hill End is a small town that welcomes visitors interested in the history of the area.
Right on the side of the Bridle Track is an abandoned mine shaft. The brave can walk into it. The TC, bless her cotton socks, counts herself as one of the brave. She found that she could stand, with head slightly bowed, in the tunnel:
We camped at the beautiful Mary Flynn Reserve. This view shows part of the campground and surrounding area, taken from the Bridle Track before descending into the valley:
The Turon River flows past the campsite:
As the sun goes down, Janet stands guard over the TC’s tent:
A rainbow campfire, thanks to minerals added by one of the campers:
In the chill of the early morning (it was 6° Centigrade), the sun warms up the rocks on the opposite side of the river, while neighbours get their campfire going down below:
After packing up our camp, we drove back along the Bridle Track to Root Hog Crossing. This is a crossing of the Macquarie River, at the junction of the Bridle Track and Root Hog Road. The river level was on the high side (measured at about 1 metre at the Rock Forest station), and there was a reasonably strong current. Janet says that it’s the strongest current she’s tackled to date:
Thanks to our friend Matt for making the video.
Before doing a trip like this, the TC does plenty of research. She checks the river levels over a couple of weeks, to see what the river’s doing. She also monitors the fire warnings and weather forecasts. On reaching the river crossing, if it looks a bit high or strong current, she’d walk into it first. If you can’t walk the current, then the car can’t take it either. For this crossing, luckily there was a group of three cars doing the crossing when we arrived. We watched them, and judged it safe for our vehicles.
Root Hog Road is the road of views:
The next couple of photos are from a previous trip, when we traversed Root Hog Road in the opposite direction. A couple of motorbikes passed us when we stopped to take in the view:
Another road sign advised due caution:
Also from our previous trip, this video shows the last part of Root Hog Road as it drops towards the Macquarie River at the junction of Root Hog Road and the Bridle Track. The crossing is to the right, but we turned to the left to take a look at the river and campground:
Cleanup on the day after this week’s trip. Janet got her carpets wet in the Root Hog Crossing, and her paintwork was dusty. The tent was damp from the morning dew:
This is the blog of Mark Wordsworm, the travelling worm. I’m a 36-year-old bookmark (give or take a few years) and 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
A couple of weeks ago, this worm visited the little town of Kurri Kurri. It’s an intriguing place, springing from a history of coal mining and now re-imagining itself as an artists haven.
If you’re anything like the TC, bless her cotton socks, you’ll be asking, “Why two words?” Why is the town not called just “Kurri”? Towns and cities in Australia often have names that repeat the same word twice. The pattern comes from the Aboriginal languages that repeat a word to emphasize or strengthen the meaning of the word. In the local Minyung language, “kurri-kurri” means “the beginning” or “the first”.
The book I’m in
The Ones We Choose, by Julie Clark. A tale of genetics, romance, and tangled lives. Highly recommended.
The photos
Me with the Kurri Kurri Kookaburra:
This Kookaburra is huge. If it were alive, I’d be taking shelter rather than posing in full view of that eye and that beak. Instead, I was happy to let the bird photo bomb me, as it’s a sculpture.
In fact, this bird is a little like myself in that the representation is more magnificent than the original form.
Here’s another view of the Kurri Kurri Kookaburra. The artist is one Chris Fussell. The sculpture was erected in 2009:
Not far away from the big bird is the Kurri Kurri hotel, first opened in 1904. It’s a typical Australian hotel, in that its primary business is as a pub and restaurant, not accommodation. (The word “hotel” traps many a weary, unwary traveller just arrived in Oz.) It’s a lovely old building, with wrap-around verandas and frilly cast-iron railings:
On a wall to the right of the hotel in the above picture is one of the murals that the town has recently become known for.
More paintings liven up a utilitarian building in the town centre:
The next mural fits right in with the business whose wall it adorns:
If you look closely at the above mural (the one on the right), you’ll spot a Kookaburra on a pile of tyres. There are more than 60 murals in and around Kurri Kurri. Rumour has it that every mural includes a Kookaburra somewhere.
Some of the wall decorations are of a bleaker nature, though still artistically and historically interesting:
This is the blog of Mark Wordsworm, the travelling worm. I’m a 36-year-old bookmark (give or take a few years) and 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
This week marked my first visit to Newcastle, famed as the largest coal-exporting city in the world. Now, dear reader, you’d be justified in thinking that I’m talking about the Newcastle in north-east England. Nay, not so, this Newcastle is on the eastern coast of New South Wales, Australia.
I greatly enjoyed my short visit to this harbour city, and my pleasant encounters with Novocastrians.
The book I’m in
Tragaron’s Daughter, by Madeleine Brent. A well-written, fast-moving romance and thriller combined.
Recommended restaurant
One Penny Black, 196 Hunter St, Newcastle. Highly recommended. Friendly service. Tasty fresh food in good quantity.
The photos
Me in front of the pavilion of the Newcastle Ocean Baths, a grand Art Deco building from the 1920s:
In the above photo, I’m on the southern side of the pavilion. Take a stroll with me around the building. Go slowly now — I may have more legs than you, but they’re shorter than yours.
The pavilion and baths were to be closed for renovation just three days after our visit. This worm felt privileged to see them in their current state, and hopes to see the renovated version soon. A somewhat whimsical sign under the pavilion predicted the upcoming upheaval:
Behind the pavilion are the baths themselves, open to the sea and sky, with tiered seating at one end:
Behind the tiered seating hides an intriguing little dome, complete with an intriguing little internal staircase:
The next picture shows the pavilion again, viewed from the northern side this time:
Moving south from the baths, you can stroll along Newcastle beach, bounded by a terraced headland:
Moving inland, you’ll probably encounter tram or two. Big brother, in shape at least, to yours truly:
This worm steered clear of lurking Corellas. Crafty characters they are, with one eye always open for a tasty morsel:
The streets of Newcastle are well worth a wander, for their varied architecture:
This building is a good advertisement for the architectural offices that inhabit it:
To end on a slightly political note, I’ll share this photo demonstrating nuclear free sentiments. No doubt the statement expressed here is in response to a recent state government announcement that Newcastle is one of three sites under consideration for a nuclear submarine base:
This is the blog of Mark Wordsworm, the travelling worm. I’m a 25-year-old bookmark (I haven’t aged at all since I first wrote this introduction) and 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 spent a couple of days on the Central Coast of New South Wales, Australia. This was a while ago. Now I’m on another trip to somewhere else, and thus finding the time to publish some words.
My impressions? Restful prettiness with enough history and natural beauty to occupy the mind.
Word of the day
Bug is the word of the day. According to the Australian Museum, bugs and beetles are different groups of creatures. They have different mouthparts (beetles chew, bugs don’t), different lifecycles (beetles undergo a complete metamorphosis from larval stage, bugs don’t), different food choices (beetles eat solids, bugs don’t), and different wings (beetles have two pairs, bugs don’t).
This worm concludes there’s a lot that beetles do and bugs don’t. Never mind, the bugs in this post are pretty. At least they have that going for them.
Travel tip
Look before you sit. The colourful bugs pictured below were roaming around on a park bench. A careless sitter would have squished them.
The book I’m in
Infinity Born, by Douglas E. Richards. Artificial intelligence runs wild in this action-packed, thought-provoking book.
The photos
Me and the rising sun, at the window of the Crowne Plaza hotel in Terrigal:
These two bugs roamed around a park bench. Luckily the TC spotted them before sitting down. I think they’re Hibiscus Harlequin Bugs. Almost as attractive as your faithful bookworm!
The bugs are reasonably large, certainly much bigger than a ladybird. For scale, the TC put her finger next to them on the park bench:
Methinks they’re in love, or one of them is. Play the video to see how one follows the other, occasionally bumping into it by mistake or perhaps on purpose:
Now for a complete change of subject, just because I can. Contrary to appearances, this is not a monster’s gullet. It’s a hollow tree trunk:
Travelling Worm 