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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.
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.
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.
Fireworks on Sydney Harbour Bridge

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!

Fireworks on Sydney Harbour Bridge

Here’s a short video:

[YouTube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4BuAD0ayJ_M]

There are more videos of the fireworks on my YouTube playlist.

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:

Fireworks on Sydney Harbour Bridge

That’s all for today dudes.
Birdsong in Sydney

This is the blog of a 25-year-old bookmark. I proudly boast my own Hallmark serial number, 95 HBM 80-1.

Twenty-five years, and I don’t look a day older than one! Alas, I can’t say the same for my Travelling Companion. I spend most of my time inside a book (well, duh) while the TC sees the world. Read all about me and follow my blog posts to share my experiences as bookmark and travelling worm.

From time to time, I’ll say something meaningful. Like a t-shirt.

Today’s travel notes

Noisy creatures, birds. The Travelling Companion has been up and about, recording the dawn chorus in Sydney’s Northern Beaches. She also found a rather garrulous magpie in Curl Curl. I’ve put some videos on my YouTube site and also posted them below.

There are no photographs of me this time. Sorry to disappoint. I try to avoid appearing in the same space as a bird. On one occasion I did get perilously close to Jonathan, a seagull. There are some pictures to prove it in my blogpost about Surfers Paradise.

Traveller’s tip

The early worm catches the birdsong.

The book I’m in

Cry No More, by Linda Howard.

Linda writes really comfortable books.

The videos

The sun is still below the horizon in Sydney’s Northern Beaches. I don’t know the name of the first bird you’ll hear. Then there’s a raven’s mournful cry and a butcherbird’s yodel:

It’s a bit lighter now. The kookaburras are always naively cheerful this early in the morning. The currawongs chime in, and then the rosellas utter their first chirps of the day:

Here’s the sunrise, pretty enough if you like that sort of thing, with the rosellas still chirping and squawking away (they do that most of the day, I’ve noticed):

A magpie might draw a laugh and a bit of grudging admiration with his performance in this video. The hissing in the background is the sea at Curl Curl:

That’s all for today, dudes.
Red-flowered tree in Sydney

This is the blog of a 25-year-old bookmark. I proudly boast my own Hallmark serial number, 95 HBM 80-1.

Twenty-five years, and I don’t look a day older than one! Alas, I can’t say the same for my Travelling Companion. I spend most of my time inside a book (well, duh) while the TC sees the world. Read all about me and follow my blog posts to share my experiences as bookmark and travelling worm.

From time to time, I’ll say something meaningful. Like a t-shirt. Keep an eye out for the witty but subtle use of puns.

Today’s travel notes

Me, Peg and Hand went for a bit of a stroll today. You’ll remember Hand. We met in Surfer’s Paradise, and he has been one of the Travelling Companion’s companions ever since. I wrote about it here.

Getting back to our stroll. Along the way, we stopped to hang out with Blue. And now I’d like to enlist your help.

Blue is a tall, wide-spreading tree. There are a number like him, in and around Sydney. At this time of year he becomes encrusted with showy red flowers. That’s why I call him “Blue” — because of the red flowers. (Australians have an obscurely endearing habit of calling people with red hair “Blue”. I think it’s their attempt for world recognition in the eccentricity category. Or something.)

How can you help? By telling me what sort of tree Blue is. I’ve searched diligently through the TC’s books but have not been able to pin down Blue’s family. Please take a look at the pictures below.

Traveller’s tip

Trees don’t travel much, but they are good company.

The book I’m in

Poltergeist, by Kat Richardson.

The photos

Me and Peg out on a limb with Blue:

Me and Peg out on a limb with Blue

Hand seeks out the darker corners where fleshy greyish-pink weirdos congregate. As you might have gathered, I’m not much of a botanist and don’t know what these plants are called either:

Hand skulking around in the undergrowth

Zooming out to show a bit more of Blue’s red floral showiness. This outburst happens in late July and early August.

Can you identify this red-flowered tree?

The whole tree:

Can you identify this red-flowered tree?

Hand got a bit out of hand, so I had to tether him at the base of Blue’s trunk. He felt quite at home, because some equally unsalubrious characters had been there before us.

Hand lurking amongst the litter
Sydney winter flora seen from down under

This is the blog of a 25-year-old bookmark. I proudly boast my own Hallmark serial number, 95 HBM 80-1.

Twenty-five years, and I don’t look a day older than one! Alas, I can’t say the same for my Travelling Companion. I spend most of my time inside a book (well, duh) while the TC sees the world. Read all about me and follow my blog posts to share my experiences as bookmark and travelling worm.

From time to time, I’ll say something meaningful. Like a t-shirt.

Today’s travel notes

I’ve been spending some time with flora and Peg recently. You’ll notice me, Peg and flora in the photographs below.

Have you ever been to Cape Town in South Africa? There’s some similarity between the Sydney vegetation and the Cape fynbos. Both specialise in low-key, low-down beauty. It can be hard to find, especially if you’re not a worm. But once you’ve moved past the drabness and started looking at the detail, there are some fairly pretty things to see.

This blog post is about Sydney. I’ll dig up some of the TC’s photographs of the Cape fynbos and write about it soon too. I promise. I know you’ll be eagerly awaiting my next post.

A worm’s eye view is also interesting from another perspective. Often, I get to see the bits that the plants are least proud of.

Traveller’s tip

Don’t ever let yourself be photographed from below. It’s a very unflattering angle.

The book I’m in

Dead Famous, by Ben Elton.

A tip for my fans: Look out for my appearance on the next hip, bigged-up and mad-for-it reality TV show. I’ve had so many requests you’d hardly, like, believe and hey I’ll make my choice soon. One survivor, that’ll be me. I’m, like, dead sure of that.

The photos

Me and Peg hanging out under a rocky overhang with flora:

Sydney winter flora

♥ As a special treat for you the faithful reader, the rest of the photographs are taken from the bottom looking up. That’s my usual perspective on life. It’s what keeps me so humble. ♥

The least flattering end of a bee:

Sydney winter flora

Another bee derriere:

Sydney winter flora

The underside of Old Man Banksia:

Another banksia I do believe, but there’s the faint possibility that I may be wrong:

Sydney winter flora

Some cone clones:

Sydney winter flora

A spray of grass:

Sydney winter flora

It’s difficult to make a flower look bad, even from the bottom looking up:

Sydney winter flora

Another distressingly pretty flower seen from down under:

Sydney winter flora

And here’s the last bottoms-up flower:

Sydney winter flora

Oh dear…

Sydney winter flora seen from down under

That’s all for today dudes.
Goulburn
This is the blog of a 25-year-old bookmark. I proudly boast my own Hallmark serial number, 95 HBM 80-1.

Twenty-five years, and I don’t look a day older than one! Alas, I can’t say the same for my Travelling Companion. I spend most of my time inside a book (well, duh) while the TC sees the world. Read all about me and follow my blog posts to share my experiences as bookmark and travelling worm.

I’ll keep it meaningful. Like a t-shirt.

Today’s travel notes

We passed through Goulburn last weekend. Goulburn is a city (it has a couple of cathedrals) in New South Wales, Australia. It’s kind of a detour between Sydney and Canberra. At least, that’s how I’ve always thought of it.

My impressions? “Oh no, what am I doing here?” closely followed by “Ah yes, that was good”.

First we went to the outskirts of the town (yes, I do know it’s a city but it’s rather small) to find Drool. He’s our latest acquisition — a rather fetching gargoyle. There’s a photograph somewhere below. He hales from the Menduni Garden Artistry centre, 26-28 Gulson Street, Goulburn. I’d recommend a visit if you’re in the area. You’re greeted with big smiles, strong local accents and lots of variety, from devilish gargoyles to lightly-swaying giant emus and everything between.

Then we hit Goulburn in search of lunch. We found that and a lot of impressive architecture too.

Traveller’s tip

A warm worm is a happy worm.

Recommended restaurant

The Roses Cafe, 10 Montague Street, Goulburn, NSW.

Great pies and cheese pastries, fresh tasty salads, superb florentines with lots of nuts and stodge and a good layer of chocolate. Faultless service.

The book I’m in

I have just emerged from Falls the Shadow, by William Lashner. Alas, the TC (she with whom I travel) yanked me out when I was only half way through the book. I’m guessing she grew tired of it. I couldn’t help noticing this bit before I left, because I found it strangely apposite. It’s something said to the lawyer who is the anti-hero of the book, with his reply:

“You’re an insignificant worm.”
“Yes I am,” I said cheerfully, “on a useless piece of rock hurtling through a universe devoid of rhyme or reason.”

I suspect that Goulburnians might often hear the phrase “an insignificant town in the middle of nowhere”, or words to that effect. Goulburnians could reply with something like the lawyer’s response above.

Or maybe, like me, they would reply:

“Yes, but that’s irrelevant when you’re as good-looking as me.”

The photos

Me at the fountain in Belmore Park, Goulburn:

Me at the glasshouse in Belmore Park:

St Peter’s and St Paul’s Catholic cathedral (it’s just one building, probably named by someone in dire need of saintly appeasement):

St Saviour’s Anglican cathedral:

The Big Merino, one of Australia’s famous “big things”. They say you can go inside to buy souvenirs and to see the world through the ram’s eye at the top. I didn’t do that. This dude is more than 15 metres tall and weighs 97 tonnes:

The Goulburn Club, established 1877:

The inviting open door of the Goulburn Club:

The Roses Cafe has a narrow shop front, but is long and spacious inside, modern in hues of pink and purple:

A row of buildings in downtown Goulburn:

Get closer to me baby:

Technical College AD 1900, now the Goulburn Regional Conservatorium. If you peer inside, you’ll see lovely old wooden doors and staircase:

Drool the gargoyle:

A worm’s eye view

This section is for me to put things that are not necessarily relevant but meant something to this worm at the time. Here’s a shot of the dawn before we set out on the trip:

Other travelogues of note

These travellers have been to Goulburn too:
- Elke went back to visit family.
- Jamie went through on the way to Canberra.
- Jon & Jules were impressed by the big merino.
- Marillionkm gives lots of details.
- Darryl writes about the drought.
First past the post

There are no wordpress.com blogs tagged “Goulburn”. This worm will be the first!

That’s all for today dudes.