Travelling Worm

A bookworm's travelogue

Tag: new south wales

  • 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:

    Goulburn

    Me at the glasshouse in Belmore Park:

    Goulburn

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

    Goulburn

    St Saviour’s Anglican cathedral:

    Goulburn

    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:

    Goulburn

    The Goulburn Club, established 1877:

    Goulburn

    The inviting open door of the Goulburn Club:

    Goulburn

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

    Goulburn

    A row of buildings in downtown Goulburn:

    Goulburn

    Get closer to me baby:

    Goulburn

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

    Goulburn

    Drool the gargoyle:

    Goulburn

    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:

    Goulburn

    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.


  • Manly

    This is the blog of a 25-year-old bookmark. I can proudly boast my own Hallmark serial number, viz 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 my 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

    Today I’ve been in Manly, haunt of surfers and rollerbladers on the east coast of Australia just north of Sydney.

    My impressions? Ramshackle charm plus lots of action.

    It’s all happening in Manly. Rollerblading, skate boarding, surfing, diving, snorkelling, street markets, skid row sidling up to millionaire’s lane.

    The ride on the Manly Ferry is one of the most beautiful in the world. The boat takes half an hour to wend its way from Manly Wharf to the city, passing close by the Sydney Opera House and the coat hanger. (That’s what the locals call the Sydney Harbour Bridge.)

    A good place to snorkel is Shelly Beach, at the southern end of Manly Beach. Shelly Beach faces west, at an angle to the main beach and sheltered from the waves rolling in from the ocean. Take just a couple of paces into the water, and you’ll find Nemo. Scuba divers bubble way down below. My Travelling Companion gets distressingly enthusiastic about close encounters with gropers. Settle down, a groper is a fish.

    Rollerbladers abound. There’s a good path running along the beachfront. For a longer run, set off in Manly Vale at Addiscombe Road, follow the cycle path down Kenneth and Pittwater Roads to Manly Lagoon, through Manly Lagoon park to the sea, then all along the beach to Shelly. This is about 4 kilometres of easy skating. If you’d like a hill or two, there are two good slopes in Manly Vale. There’s a skate park across the way from Manly Lagoon park. My intrepid Travelling Companion has crawled the lower slopes but never really dropped in.

    A word from a wise worm

    Bladers beware: surfboards are a hazard. This could happen to you: You’re in the zone, skating along with the sea by your side, the wind whistling past your ears, the cockatoos screeching overhead and the picturesque surfer-dudes posed next to the path assessing the waves. Surfer-dude turns to greet mate on other side of path. Surfboard swings over path. Rollerblader hits ground.

    Travel tip

    Dare to be different — like the flower in the photo down below.

    Recommended restaurant

    Ironbark wood fired Italian restaurant. 208 Pittwater Road, Manly. www.ironbarkmanly.com.au

    They have gluten-free pizzas. This worm didn’t know such things were possible. I guess there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in my philosophy.

    A fan

    A humble worm says thank you to STA travelbuzz for reviewing my site.

    The book I’m in

    Stern Men, by Elizabeth Gilbert.

    The photos

    Me and the Manly Ferry:

    me and manly ferry

    Me looking for a cosy hole on Manly Wharf:

    me and manly wharf

    Smooth empty tarmac, blading heaven. The path along Manly Lagoon:

    Path along Manly Lagoon

    Manly Beach seen as you emerge from Manly Lagoon Park:

    Manly Beach seen as you emerge from Manly Lagoon Park

    Blading from Manly Vale to Manly:

    shadow roller blader manly 2shadow roller blader manly 2shadow roller blader manly 3

    shadow roller blader manly 4shadow roller blader manly 5shadow roller blader manly 6

    Blader in Manly:

    rollerblader in manly

    Looking across Manly Beach to Shelly Beach at top left:

    manly and shelly beach

    Manly Corso:

    manly corso

    A seagull on Manly Corso. (Beware all worms!):

    seagull in manly corso

    Surfer dudes doing it the hard way:

    walking surfers in manly

    A white azalea flower daring to be different:

    white azalea on pink bush


  • The blue mountains

    This is the blog of a 25-year-old bookmark, 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 my 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

    Yesterday I was at Katoomba in the Blue Mountains. That’s about two hours’ drive west of Sydney.

    How did I feel? Cocooned in magnificence.

    In my last blog post, I confessed to being awestruck by Uluru, to the point of wordlessness. The Blue Mountains don’t do that to you. They’re beautiful, dizzying, breathtaking — but somehow cozy too.

    Here are some words for the temperate rainforest: dripping; tinkly; enveloping; silvery; soaring.

    Words for the precipitous train ride from the top of the gorge down to the forest floor: “Da-da-da-DAAA, da-da-Daaa”. For those philistines who don’t recognise it, that’s the Indiana Jones theme tune. They play it to you as the train sets off.

    Words for the cliffs and gorges: floating; misty; dark and handsome; the strong silent type.

    The Blue Mountains have something for everyone: ghost trees and ghost stories; misleading road signs and strong coffee; adventurous rides and ankle-turning hikes. You can even abseil off one of the Three Sisters, if she takes your fancy.

    A traveller’s gripe

    There are NO signs pointing the way to Scenic World, our destination in Katoomba. We went round and round the misty by-ways, asking directions of the locals. Some of the latter looked patiently amused. Others’ expressions implied, “Abandon all hope ye who enter here”.

    Eventually we found a sign at the top of a road and turned obediently. It was a very very short road, ending in a t-junction. What now, left or right? Not a hint. We guessed right. If we hadn’t, we would eventually have become just another ghostly collection of voices bouncing off Echo Point.

    Travel tip

    Don’t be a prisoner of your hair style.

    The book I’m in

    Season of the Witch, by Natasha Mostert.

    The photos

    Me looking down on the rain forest canopy:

    Me looking down on the rain forest canopy

    Me in the rain forest:

    Me in the rain forest

    Me and a ghost tree:

    Me and a Black Wattle

    Scenic Railway track plunging into the gorge. Impressive wormhole:

    Top of Scenic Railway track

    The Scenic Railway train — brother worm emerging from his hole:

    Scenic Railway train

    Looking out over the rain forest canopy:

    Rain forest canopy

    In the depths of the rain forest, looking up at the silver shining wet bark of a tall tree:

    Silver shining wet bark

    Black wattles. I’ve dubbed them ghost trees. Their scientific name is Callicoma serratifolia, and they’re not a wattle at all. That’s the Ozzies for ya. Historical note: The first timbers used for the wattle and daub huts of the early settlers were cut from these trees:

    Black wattle

    Ghost:

    Black wattle ghost