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
Starbucks are alive and well and living in Seattle. Where it rains.
If you’ve ever been anywhere near Seattle, you’ll know that it’s not hard to find a Starbucks store in that town. In fact, it’s hard not to trip over them at every corner. So the TC was surprised and delighted to see this tweet from a fellow Seattle visitor:
Starbucks in Seattle
She rushed to his aid, tweeting enthusiastically that the very first Starbucks was just around the corner from where he was sitting. In fact, the hapless tweeter was inundated with helpful suggestions of where he might quench his thirst. His tweet was a joke, of course.
Travel tip
Don’t fight it. When in Starbucks, go for the coffee with everything in it.
Recommended restaurant
Duh.
The book I’m in
The Girl who Played with Fire, by Stieg Larsson, translated by Reg Keeland.
The TC has just started this book and she’s totally engrossed in it. She does mention that it’s a bit heavy on her hands, so every now and then she finds welts gouged into her skin after a lengthy reading session. This is the second book in the “Millennium” series.
The photos
Me and Peg with a Caramel Macchiato in the original Starbucks coffee shop in Seattle:
Starbucks in Seattle
This worm felt warm and comfy, surrounded by all that dark wood and shiny soft leather. The TC downed her drink with apparent enjoyment, after the obligatory photo shoot.
Starbucks opened its first store in 1971. After a few years, that store moved to its current location in Pike Place, where the TC found her Caramel Macchiato. Here’s a view of the outside of the store:
Starbucks in Seattle
This is the sign on the pillar at the door:
Starbucks in Seattle
The logo on this store is a bit different from the ones you see on other stores around the world. It features a sort of medieval mermaid, inelegantly endowed with two tails. She makes no attempt to cover her breasts with her hair as in later versions, and is altogether a more interesting and more real personality that the later versions. Like me:
Starbucks in Seattle
This is the logo you see now on most Starbucks stores and packaging:
Starbucks in Seattle
If you’ve got it, flaunt it, that’s this worm’s motto. That’s all for today dudes.
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 in Seattle. Where it rains. She’s here for the WritersUA conference, four days of technical writer’s heaven.
Undaunted by the dismal drizzle and the icy wind, the TC set off for a grand tour of the city. She wandered down Post Alley and spotted the Seattle Wall of Gum.
Would you believe that she stuck me to it? So humiliating. Take a look at the snap below and commiserate with me. Don’t laugh!
Travel tip
Chew every mouthful 32 times. “Nature will castigate those who don’t masticate,” said Horace Fletcher the great.
The book I’m in
Bones, by Jonathan Kellerman.
This dude always manages to set your teeth on edge from the very first bite.
The photos
Me affixed inelegantly to the Seattle Gum Wall:
Gum Wall in Seattle
Here’s another view of the glorious gum:
Gum Wall in Seattle
The TC did not have any gum, so she donated a half-chewed Mentos that had kept me company in her bag all the way from Australia.
The story is that the gum started appearing on the wall way back in the early 1990s. People standing in line for the Market Theatre used the wall as a place to leave their gum:
Gum Wall in Seattle
As an aside, I have to inform you that the TC noticed with glee the spelling of “THEATRE” in the sign above. One down for American spelling! As another aside, I have to apologise for the TC. She’s a technical writer.
The Gum Wall, a.k.a the Great Wall of Gum, is in Post Alley at the Pike Place Market. Here’s a view from the skyway over the alley, with the sticky stuff on the left:
Gum Wall in Seattle
Here’s the other end of Post Alley, looking altogether less hard-bitten:
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
A few days ago, me and the TC climbed up to Coit Tower on Telegraph Hill and saw the frescoes on the walls of the tower.
Later the same day, we had tea at the Japanese Tea Garden in Golden Gate Park. This little restaurant introduced fortune cookies to the United States. There’s even a claim that fortune cookies were invented by Makoto Hagiwara, caretaker of the Japanese Tea Garden in San Francisco.
The fortune cookies and the frescoes are at opposite ends of town, so why write about them in one blog post? Purely for the sake of the alliteration. I could claim a philosophical juxtaposition of commerce and art, or of kitch and realism. But no, it’s the allure of the alliteration. That’s assonance, man.
Travel tip
Treat yourself to a chocolate. If you’ve never had a Hershie Bar, they’re worth trying.
The book I’m in
Managing Writers, A Real World Guide to Managing Technical Documentation, by Richard L. Hamilton.
This bookworm is munching on the feast of quotable bits in this book. Here’s an appetiser from the section on “The Elements of Technical Writing”:
“Schedules are the closest thing to a ‘black art’ that you are likely to deal with as a documentation manager. The good news is that as a documentation manager, you will rarely set schedules; the bad news is that you will rarely set schedules.”
Tantalising? The explanation’s in the book.
The photos
Me with a fortune cookie in the Japanese Tea Garden, San Francisco:
Fortune cookies and frescoes in San Francisco
My fortune cookie says “You are next in line for promotion in your firm”. Look out, all worms, here I come!
Did you know that the origin of the fortune cookie is in some dispute? Some claim that Makoto Hagiwara, caretaker of the Japanese Tea Garden, created them. Others say that they were invented in Japan but the Tea Garden introduced fortune cookies into the United States:
Fortune cookies and frescoes in San Francisco
Hopping over to the frescoes, here’s part of a wall inside Coit Tower on Telegraph Hill, San Francisco:
Fortune cookies and frescoes in San Francisco
Coit Tower was built in 1933 with money donated by Lillie Hitchcock Coit. Artists painted the frescoes and were paid as part of the Federal Government’s New Deal to help artists during the Great Depression.
Beautiful, huh? Yes, but take a closer look:
Fortune cookies and frescoes in San Francisco
The grimmer side of life is there in the painting too. A man has been run over by a car. Also, look closely in the first picture and you’ll see that someone is picking the pocket of the man in a white coat checking his watch.
Worried about imminent invasion by E.T. and his buddies? No need. The UFO Response Team is out in force, spotted here at the top of Haight near Golden Gate Park:
Fortune cookies and frescoes in San Francisco
And so it’s farewell to fair San Francisco. (Can’t resist that alliteration today.) Here’s me on Baker Beach with the Golden Gate Bridge in the background:
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 took a trip on a San Francisco cable car. That was the most fun you can have outside a book!
We’ve also ventured onto buses and trams and various other forms of transport. You know what? Everyone chats to everyone in San Francisco.
My impressions? Public transport reveals San Francisco as a friendly city full of cheerful, or if not cheerful then vociferously expressive, people.
Even the gripman on the cable car had a big smile for the TC. Check out the photograph below. Gripmen are a fascinating breed.
Travel tip
Not only do the Americans drive on the wrong side of the road, their light switches are all wrong too: Push up to switch on the light. (This is an especially useful tip when it’s dark. And after all, that’s usually when you’re trying to turn on the light.)
Another tip: City blocks in San Francisco are long. Don’t try to walk too many of them.
Recommended restaurant
Zazie, a French bistro in Cole Valley. The food is divine. The TC had braised steak Marseillaise. It was so tender it fell apart at the touch of a fork.
The book I’m in
Managing Writers, A Real World Guide to Managing Technical Documentation, by Richard L. Hamilton.
A very well organised book with plenty of information for a bookworm to get his teeth into.
The photos
Me on the Powell & Mason Streets cable car:
Cable cars in San Francisco
Did you think “cable car” meant a car that hangs from an overhead cable? The TC did, bless her cotton socks. So she was surprised to see something that looks more like an ornate tram:
Cable cars in San Francisco
The cable runs underground. It’s a set of steel strands wrapped around a rope core. The cable moves at a speed of about 15km per hour. The car grabs onto the cable and is pulled along the track. When it reaches the end of the track, the car runs onto a turntable:
Cable cars in San Francisco
Now people have to turn it around by hand so that it can go in the other direction:
Cable cars in San Francisco
The star of the show is the gripman. This is a highly skilled and physically superior being. The competition to become a gripman is strong and the training is harsh. This bookworm has read somewhere that only 30 percent of trainees pass the course. Undaunted to find herself in such illustrious company, the TC smiled at our gripman. Just look at the smile she got in response:
Cable cars in San Francisco
Behind the gripman you can see the impressive array of levers he has to manipulate. He is the dude who makes the car grab or release the cable. He also has to judge the gaps across intersections, where the cable does not run. And he has to watch out for unaware motorists and pedestrians and other mere mortals who don’t know just how out-of-control a cable car can be.
Here’s a closer look at the levers and handles:
Cable cars in San Francisco
Want to go for a ride on a San Francisco cable car? Try these videos:
Here’s the gripman dude in action:
Do you have a head for heights? Here’s a very short video of the cable car starting at the top of a steep hill:
The trams in SF are special too. Some of them are heritage models, and some are even imported from other cities around the world. Here’s a golden oldie from Milan, that we spotted in Market Street:
Cable cars in San Francisco
Even the buses in SF have something to say for themselves. Many of them are powered by overhead cables. This can get a bit ugly at intersections:
Cable cars in San Francisco
But hey, it means the buses can have “Zero Emissions Vehicle” proudly emblazoned on their sides:
Cable cars in San Francisco
Bus seats are roomy, unlike in Sydney where the TC can be heard to complain that other passengers sit on her rather than next to her. This worm is feeling magnanimous today, so here’s another tip. (This is the third one in a single blog post. Feel privileged!) To request a stop, you pull the cable that runs along above the windows. It’s not an emergency cord.
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 in San Francisco for a couple of days now. Yesterday we encountered the World Famous Bushman. When he’s not lurking behind a bush, he goes by the name of David Johnson.
My impressions? This Bushman dude knows where it’s at. Dollars roll in.
Photos and a video below.
Travel tip
Oscar Wilde is said to have said, “The coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco.” It’s neither summer nor winter here right now, but it is cold. And very windy. I tremble in trepidation whenever the TC waves me around in search of the perfect photographic pose. If you happen to spot me blowing willy-nilly through the Californian streets, please catch me and put me into a good book.
Recommended restaurant
On the Bridge restaurant in Japan Town presents food yoshoku style. That’s western food but with a Japanese influence, as eaten by the people of Japan. The restaurant itself is energetic and cheerful in yellow and green with touches of pink, orange and blue. Garfield and other more cuddly toys watch over you as you eat. Anime rules. “Beware the attack chef.”
The book I’m in
The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, by Stieg Larsson.
Yep, still the same book. The TC has not had much time for reading recently. This makes for a restful life for me, except when I’m hauled out for the occasional celebrity photo shoot.
The photos
Peg has been making a perfect pest of herself over the last couple of days, because she wants everyone to know she’s here too. So, to pacify Peg, here’s me and Peg perched on the TC’s pouch:
World Famous Bushman in San Francisco
Now that’s Peg out of the way, let’s move on to the World Famous Bushman. Your typical tourist does not even notice this bush:
World Famous Bushman in San Francisco
Yikes, lookee here — the horror, the horror:
World Famous Bushman in San Francisco
The World Famous Bushman skulks behind his branches on Fisherman’s Wharf. Every now and then, he leaps out and scares the unsuspecting passers-by. Funnily enough, they don’t even notice the circle of other tourists around the Bushman, waiting with drawn cameras to film the scare.
Would you believe that the TC paid him $5 for a photograph and a gag? From the comfort of my book buried in her bag, I heard her engage him in conversation. Uh-oh, thinks me, here we go. He asked her where she came from.
“South Africa.”
“Oh,” says the World Famous Bushman, “then you know what a real bushman is!”
That’s when she handed over the $5. Bushman dude, you rock!
Here’s a short video of the Bushman in action:
While we’re in the area, here’s a picture of Alcatraz taken from Fisherman’s Wharf just behind the Bushman:
World Famous Bushman in San Francisco
We had a good view of the Golden Gate Bridge from the Golden Gate National Recreation Area, also near Fisherman’s Wharf:
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 arrived in San Francisco, on the first leg of our two-city American tour.
My impressions? Space, light, beauty, calm. But don’t despair, adventure lurks just below the surface.
As we touched down at San Francisco at the end of our 14-hour flight from Sydney, the pilot announced that we were perfectly safe, everything was normal. He went on to tell us that we were perfectly safe and everything was completely normal. They had had to switch off the port engine, but it was a completely safe, normal procedure which happened sometimes in flying. So we should not worry about the fire engine appearing at our side, nor the fact that we had stopped some distance from the terminal in case we might set it on fire. It was a perfectly normal… You get the gist.
The TC was not terribly concerned, since we had already landed. But she did Google our plane as soon as Googling was possible, to see how many engines a Boeing 747-400 has. The answer is four. So we probably were perfectly safe.
The adventure continues…
Travel tip
Count the number of engines on your plane before you set off. Even better, count the number of working engines.
Recommended restaurant
Juban restaurant in the Kinokuniya building. It’s a Japanese restaurant in the heart of Japan Center, where you grill your own food over a flame. This is a good place to find fresh vegetables. The TC is fond of her greens.
The book I’m in
The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, by Stieg Larsson.
A good read. This worm is glad there’s a sequel I can bury myself in next. Books are safe, normal and cosy places to be when travelling.
The photos
Me at the Crowbar on east Broadway — please excuse my less-than-sharp appearance, but it’s perhaps not unsuited to the general feel of the neighbourhood:
Arriving in San Francisco
Here’s more of Broadway. Across the road from the Crowbar a variety of delights are on offer, including “ShowGirls” and “Naughty Laundry”. The TC wandered into this area by mistake, as is her wont. I don’t think she would have chosen it for a stroll:
Arriving in San Francisco
Me and the TC arrived at the Embarcadero in the middle of an anti-war demonstration. This is Saturday 21 March, our first day in San Francisco. Demonstrators were demanding the freedom of Palestine and Gaza and an end to the war in Iraq, no war in Iran, and basically just “no war”. This video shows some of the crowd setting out and the SFPD following on motorbikes:
Later we heard on the news that there were a couple of scuffles with police and eight people were arrested. But we just saw some concerned citizens. Here’s the statue “La Chiffoniere” by Jean Dubuffet, with demonstrators including a masked demonstrator in front of the statue:
Arriving in San Francisco
The SFPD arrived on foot, on bicycles and on motor bikes. They were a sturdy bunch, but smiled and chatted to the crowd while waiting to set off. Here are some of them:
Arriving in San Francisco
Here’s one of the demonstrators who opted for a colourful display rather than joining the march. This worm approves of the orange-coated dog:
Arriving in San Francisco
To finish off, here’s a San Francisco cityscape. It’s a view from Telegraph Hill, taken from the climb up to Coit Tower:
Arriving in San Francisco
San Francisco is a beautiful city. I’ll blog about it some more soon!
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:
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
Last night, me and the TC, plus a few of her mates, saw Sydney’s New Year fireworks from the best vantage point in the city. We were in Kirribilli, on a balcony looking directly onto the Sydney Harbour Bridge.
Where it all happens.
Not being a flashy sort of personality myself, I approached the event with some scepticism. You can watch it on YouTube. How much better could it be in real life?
Much better. Photos and videos below.
But first, more from the menagerie
I’ve promised to keep you informed about the TC’s acquaintances and acquisitions. The latest is an enticing, curvy, multi-jointed tripod for the camera.
The tripod goes by the name of Jake, from a three-legged character made famous by our own Rolf Harris. This worm feels a strange affinity with Jake, perhaps because of a certain similarity in segmentation.
The fireworks display was Jake’s first outing, but alas he was not a great success. You’ll notice that it was I who once again hung over the dizzy heights, daring all for the sake of a great photo.
Travel tip
The more feet the better.
The book I’m in
Lion of Macedon, by David Gemmell.
The photos
Me and the fireworks on Sydney Harbour Bridge, just after midnight on 1 January 2009. I may be looking a bit fuzzy around the edges, but that’s allowed at this time of year:
Fireworks on Sydney Harbour Bridge
The bridge in the early evening was tranquil if a bit chatty. The nearest pylon took on the role of oracle, urging us in big friend letters to “Drink plenty of water” and “Bin your buts” and “Keep the harbour clean”:
Fireworks on Sydney Harbour Bridge
Harbour boats tarted themselves up with lights and drifted decoratively about:
Fireworks on Sydney Harbour Bridge
Then the show started:
Fireworks on Sydney Harbour Bridge
From dark drama:
Fireworks on Sydney Harbour Bridge
To bright white light:
Fireworks on Sydney Harbour Bridge
The theme of the fireworks this year was “storm of creation”. This worm found the display stormy and other-worldly indeed. There were around 100,000 big bangs, so we’re told. I lost count. Some of the best effects were the eddying smoke and moody colours after the flashy pyrotechnics had dimmed. Isn’t that so often the case in life!
This worm is full of high hopes and optimism for 2009. Happy new year to all worms, from me and Peg, Jake, Hand, Drool (who, after heavy new year celebrations of his own, was too babelas to be photographed this morning), the Rival and the rest of the menagerie:
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 on Fraser Island for a week, just off the coast of Queensland in Australia. Fraser Island is pretty special, because it’s composed almost entirely of sand. It is 125 km long and 15 km wide, making it the largest sand island in the world.
I’ve written a few blog posts about the island already, describing the island itself, the sand, the swimming, the 4wd adventures and the dangers. Now I’ll show you the creatures I met there.
Travel tip
Don’t hug a dingo.
The book I’m in
Lucifer’s Shadow, by David Hewson.
Intrigue, music and romance in Venice. A clever plot, set simultaneously in the 18th century and the present day. This worm gives the book a mark of approval. High praise indeed from someone of my discerning nature.
The photos
Me and a crab on Seventy-Five Mile Beach:
Dingoes, turtles and other creatures on Fraser Island
The TC and I were out for one of her habitual early-morning strolls, when we saw this dingo. She was trotting along the beach, minding her own business, as was the TC. Me, I was still recovering from a recent close encounter with the island’s wild life, as pictured above, so I chose to stay in my book in the TC’s bag. The TC and the dingo both stopped and looked at each other, then they both veered off to the left and right and continued more or less in their chosen directions:
Dingoes, turtles and other creatures on Fraser Island
This eagle cruised over us on the same early morning stroll:
Dingoes, turtles and other creatures on Fraser Island
Later, we saw more eagles on a couple of occasions. Here is a short video of two taking off from the beach just in front of our vehicle:
This suave dude has a style all of his own. He’s a monitor lizard, who came to investigate us in the Lake McKenzie car park:
Dingoes, turtles and other creatures on Fraser Island
Wanggoolba Creek is in perpetual rainforest twilight. This little kingfisher seemed to glow in the dark:
Dingoes, turtles and other creatures on Fraser Island
A truly awesome giant turtle emerged from the surf on Seventy-Five Mile Beach as we were passing:
Dingoes, turtles and other creatures on Fraser Island
Here it is again, with some people in the shot to give some idea of the turtle’s size:
Dingoes, turtles and other creatures on Fraser Island
We stood well back and watched the turtle as it hauled itself over the sand. It was obvious that this was hard work for the creature. We think it was coming in to lay its eggs in the dry sand at the top of the beach. Alas, a few other people arrived after the above shots were taken, and went too close. So the turtle turned round. People formed a circle round it, so it panicked and started going round and round. The TC had to put on her “I’m a Greenie” hat and tell people to leave a clear path so that the turtle could go back into the sea.
Here’s a video of the turtle, taken before it turned around:
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 on Fraser Island for a week. I’ve written one or two blog posts about the island. Actually, I’ve written quite a few. The TC has the nerve to call me garrulous. She can talk. I’m sure you’ll want to read about the lakes, creeks and pools on Fraser Island.
Is it safe to swim? Me, I’m no cardboard cutout but I’ll admit that I’m not constitutionally suited to getting wet. The TC, on the other hand, dips herself into every bit of water that’s on offer. She seems to have survived well enough.
Travel tip
Put sunscreen on the tops of your feet too.
The book I’m in
Cell, by Stephen King.
Not as good as his earlier books, better than his later books. A fitting read for Fraser Island, where mobile phone coverage is patchy to non-existent.
The photos
Me at Lake Wabby:
Swimming on Fraser Island
Lake Wabby — it’s like swimming in warm green tea. Cuddle up to the big black whiskery catfish. As is to be expected on Fraser Island, there’s a lot of sand. In fact, the sand dune is slowly and inexorably engulfing the lake. It’s weird approaching the lake through the surrounding forest and seeing the level of the sand gradually rising until it’s half way up the tree trunks.
Swimming on Fraser Island
Lake McKenzie — toothpaste-blue and -white:
Swimming on Fraser Island
Lake McKenzie is one of the island’s famous perched lakes. That means that it perches above the level of the water table. In contrast, most lakes happen when the land dips below the level of the water table. Fraser Island’s perched lakes are even more special, because they’re perched on sand:
Swimming on Fraser Island
Remember to put sunscreen on the tops of your feet. The TC, bless her soul, went walking in open sandals. Here are the resulting red patches, seen through the crystal-clear water of Lake McKenzie. Oh, she’d want me to assure you that her toes look crooked only because of the water distortion:
Swimming on Fraser Island
Champagne pools — a bit tame, not living up to the expectations conjured by their name. These are rock sea pools at the northern end of island, beyond Indian Head. There was a bit of froth when the sea rolled over the rocks into the pools. This must be where the name “Champagne Pools” comes from. But mostly the water was calm and clear. There was a lot of yucky red stuff floating in it: tiny little red balls which other people thought might be “caviar”. The TC insisted on swimming anyway, and remarked loudly on the beautiful shoals of stripy fish that she found. But I noticed that even she didn’t stay in the water for very long.
Swimming on Fraser Island
Eli Creek — dreamy green. Float down the creek with the current. Trees and plants close in around you and the current nudges you under trees and over rocks. Flowers float past you:
Swimming on Fraser Island
There are many more lakes on the island, but the TC did not have time to see them.
Travelling Worm 