travel – Page 15 – Travelling Worm

Tag: travel

Litchfield National Park in the Northern Territory

This is the blog of Mark Wordsworm, the travelling worm. I’m a 25-year-old bookmark and can proudly boast my own Hallmark serial number, 95 HBM 80-1. You’ll probably want to read all about me and my Travelling Companion (the TC) .

Today’s travel notes

Me and the TC are usually pretty easy to please, but we were just a wee bit disappointed with our recent day-trip to Litchfield National Park. The park is in Australia’s Northern Territory, about 100 km from Darwin. It was 16th May, about 3 weeks ago, and we were in Darwin to attend a conference. We took a coach trip to Litchfield, because the TC was nervous about driving around the bush on her own.

“Bah humbug,” she was thereafter heard to exclaim. “Litchfield is a walk in the park.”

My impressions? Tame, but with some pretty colours. The termites and waterfalls are good.

Travel tip

If you’re looking for a full-on nature experience, don’t take a coach tour to Litchfield.

The book I’m in

Gone Tomorrow, by Lee Child. This worm is quite taken by Jack Reacher, the hero of this book. He’s a modern-day swashbuckling pirate, in a ruthlessly homeless kind of way. I wouldn’t like to bump up against him on a dark night. Unless he’s on my side, of course.

The photos

Me knocking on the door of a cathedral termite mound:

Litchfield National Park in the Northern Territory

The termite mounds in the Northern Territory are fascinating, even awe-inspiring. The TC rabbits on about them looming up from the bushes and standing silently in amongst the trees. We saw a number of different types. The cathedral termite mounds are huge and shapely:

Litchfield National Park in the Northern Territory

The magnetic termite mounds are eery and otherworldly. They’re thin and wide, and all built in parallel lines. Wherever you find them, they’re lined up to the the Earth’s north-south axis. I wrote a bit about the magnetic mounds we found near Humpty Doo, just outside Darwin. Here’s one, with a cathedral mound behind it, in the Litchfield National Park:

Litchfield National Park in the Northern Territory

Termite mounds are extremely hard. Our coach driver told us that people used to crush termite mounds and mix the resulting grounds with water, then spread it to make airstrips in World War 2 and later tennis courts.

Another fascinating fact from our coach driver: 80% of the trees in that area of the Northern Territory are hollow. Their trunks have been eaten out by termites. The termites and the trees survive quite happily this way, with the termites providing nutrients to the tree and the soil. This is a picture of a palm tree with a termites’ nest inside:

Litchfield National Park in the Northern Territory

Litchfield has a number of pretty rock pools where you can go swimming. You do need to make sure you’re well into the dry season and all the salties (salt-water crocodiles) have retreated towards the sea. The TC went swimming in the pool under the Florence Falls:

Litchfield National Park in the Northern Territory

A number of large black fish shared the experience. One of them made so bold as to give her a painful nip in the thigh. I’m glad I wasn’t in the water with these fellows:

Litchfield National Park in the Northern Territory

There’s a pretty walk around the Florence Falls. It’s a bit spoilt by the helpful signs explaining how you can make your garden look like this too. Nevertheless, we managed to look past the signs and enjoy the bush and the lovely colours enhanced by a recent burn:

Litchfield National Park in the Northern Territory

More colours:

Litchfield National Park in the Northern Territory

A bit of pink:

Litchfield National Park in the Northern Territory

Some yellow:

Litchfield National Park in the Northern Territory

This dude is very interesting. I’m not sure exactly what it is. It’s a creature inside a coat of sticks. All you can see of the creature is the bit that attaches it to the stick. Is it a fellow worm? An insect perhaps? Let me know if you know what it is:

Litchfield National Park in the Northern Territory

These are the Wangi falls:

Litchfield National Park in the Northern Territory

The wetlands around the Wangi falls were more like the swamps we were expecting to see in the Northern Territory:

Litchfield National Park in the Northern Territory

Summing it up, this worm thinks that if you only have a day to spend then the Spectacular Jumping Crocodile Cruise is more interesting. On that tour, you see the wetlands around Humpty Doo as well as the Adelaide River with the salties, and a bit of the bush around Darwin too. I wrote a blog post about it. If you have more time, then probably Kakadu is the thing. We didn’t have time for that this trip.

If you’ve seen a lot more of Litchfield than we did and you found it awe-inspiring, let me know.

That’s all for today dudes.
In and around Darwin

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

Darwin is an interesting place to be. I suspect it’s a city of many faces, depending on when you’re there and who you’re travelling with. One thing is guaranteed: the heat. At 12 degrees south, it’s decidedly tropical. Darwin is in the Northern Territory, at Australia’s Top End. The TC and I were there in May, soon after the start of the dry season. If that’s dry, this worm would prefer not to be there in the wet.

My impressions? It’s a bit warm in Darwin.

Travel tip

If you plan to walk down Stokes Hill Wharf, take your time. It’s a long wharf and, in case I haven’t mentioned it, Darwin is a bit warm.

Another tip for free: Go looking for the crocs. I wrote about them last week.

New word of the day

“Calenture” – a tropical fever suffered by sailors, who think the sea is a green field and want to jump into it.

The book I’m in

DON’T TELL MUM i WORK ON THE RIGS she thinks I’m a piano player in a whorehouse, by Paul Carter. This book is full-on, extreme energy. Paul Carter tells tall tales of his many years spent working on oil rigs in and around Australia. Adventure and danger, funny and nasty, they all rub up against each other in this book. Highly recommended.

The photos

Me hanging out on a Darwin city street:

In and around Darwin

I promised a devoted follower that my next post would tell a tale of peril. Here it is. The TC wanted to show the enormous size of the ivy leaves in Darwin. Note her lamentable lack of regard for my safety. Now you see me, now you…

In and around Darwin

… don’t!

Truth be told, Darwin city centre is not much to write home about. This picture is taken from the corner of Mitchell and Knuckey streets, looking up Knuckey. It’s all happening, folks:

In and around Darwin

Here’s The Mall on Smith street:

In and around Darwin

Darwin is “one of Australia’s most modern capital cities”. That sounds pretty impressive, and even more so when you learn why it’s true. The city has had to be rebuilt twice in recent history: once after the Japanese bombed it in World War 2, and then again after Cyclone Tracy hit in 1974. Tracy just about flattened the town hall (originally the Palmerstone Town Hall). The Darwinites have preserved the ruins, to remind people of that blustery Christmas Eve in 1974:

In and around Darwin

Tracy was quite a ruthless gal. She holds the record for being the most compact tropical cyclone ever to hit Australia. Indeed, she was the most compact world-wide until Marco in 2008.

Not far away from the town hall ruins, this old man banyan tree stands in Darwin’s Civic Square:

In and around Darwin

Banyan trees are fairly ruthless in their own right. The banyan starts life as a seed, eaten by a bird and then deposited on another tree’s branch as part of a bird dropping. The banyan starts growing and sends down roots to the ground. The host tree becomes cocooned in banyan roots and branches. Eventually the host dies and the banyan lives on. With good reason, banyans are also called “strangler figs”.

Cyclones and stranglers aside, it’s peaceful around the great banyan now, with birds tweeting and lizards scurrying:

In and around Darwin

This debonair traveller took a close look at the strangler’s roots:

In and around Darwin

Later we moseyed down Stokes Hill Wharf. The TC confessed her disappointment at not finding the wharf littered with plaques and other memorabilia related to Baz Luhrmann’s film “Australia”. Between you and me, I will point out that she would have been the first to complain if we’d found hundreds of tourist traps. The wharf is also the place where many Japanese bombs fell during the WW2 attack on Darwin. Wikipedia says that more bombs were dropped on Darwin than on Pearl Harbor. Here’s a view of the wharf today, just before the TC and I started our long walk:

In and around Darwin

Some of the locals are a trifle scathing of the new suburbs springing up around Darwin. People say the new houses are built without regard for “natural air conditioning”. Evidently the earlier houses were better built to take advantage of breezes. Take it from this worm, there’s precious little breeze to take advantage of. What air there is, is moist and warm. It licks your face like a bulldog’s tongue.

The TC professed admiration for many of the new buildings. The new suburb we saw had direct boating access to the harbour and the Timor sea. Here’s another interesting tidbit, courtesy of this worm: the tidal variation is 6 to 8 metres. That means that the water level drops by 8 metres when the tide goes out. So there’s a system of locks to keep the boats afloat.

In and around Darwin

Outside Darwin there’s a tiny place with the picturesque name of Humpty Doo. (Yes, really.) Close by we spotted these eery constructions:

In and around Darwin

They’re about the same height as the TC, about 4 feet across, sharp on top and only as wide as the TC’s hand. They all face in exactly the same direction. Seeing them, you feel restful and tranquil because they’re just there and they’re so neat. And yet, underlying the tranquillity is an unease. They’re weird, because they’re so neat.

They are magnetic termite mounds. The termites build them all facing in the same direction, more or less exactly on the Earth’s north-south axis. Boffins say that the termites do this to keep warm, by catching the sun’s rays. This worm finds it hard to believe anyone would need to catch more warmth in Darwin. Here’s a closer look at one of the mounds:

In and around Darwin

While we were at an Aboriginal art centre just outside Darwin, the TC was given a baby wallaby to hold. Sally is her name. A car hit Sally’s mother while Sally was in her mother’s pouch. Sally survived and is now thriving on bottled milk and tender loving care of one of the staff members at the art centre. Here’s the obligatory cute snap:

In and around Darwin

One of Darwin’s “must do” activities is a trip to the Mindil Beach Market. It happens every Thursday and Sunday evening during the dry season:

In and around Darwin

You can buy all sorts of things there, including dinner. The TC found the food “ordinary”, but she has expressed some enthusiasm for the smoothies. Best of all, though, is to be there when the sun goes down.

In and around Darwin

Drift down to the beach, just the other side of the stalls, and watch the sunset.

Me doing just that:

In and around Darwin

That’s all for today dudes.
Jumping crocodiles near Darwin

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

Peg, the TC and I have all been in Darwin, in Australia’s “Top End”, for the past week. The TC, bless her cotton socks, booked herself on a Spectacular Jumping Crocodile Cruise. As is her wont, she took me along. I consented to pose in front of the bus for the obligatory snapshot, then retreated to the safety of my book nestled deep in the TC’s bag. Peg was nowhere to be seen. She’s a very together type of gal and knows when to keep herself out of harm’s way.

My impressions? The Northern Territory’s salties are horrifyingly beautiful.

Travel tip

Believe it when they tell you not to put your arm out over the side of the boat.

The book I’m in

Past Caring, by Robert Goddard. Definitely a “the thot plickens” type of book. This worm recommends it whole-heartedly.

The photos

Me and the only type of jumping croc that I allow anywhere near me:

Jumping crocodiles near Darwin

We were lucky enough to have the one and only Rod as our bus driver and guide. He knows a great deal about the bush, the swamps and the history of Darwin. I was sorry when the tour ended, because he’d only been able to relate a fraction of the stories he knows of Darwin and surrounds. The photo below shows us driving over the dyke at Fogg Dam. Rod told us all about the doomed Humpty Doo rice project, of which Fogg Dam is part. People built the dyke to control the water in the Adelaide River wetlands, so that they could grow rice. Alas, after the first big wet season most of the rice ended up in the Timor Sea. Did you notice the crocodile toys on the dashboard? We were very soon to see the real thing!

Jumping crocodiles near Darwin

A pretty little Jacana bird wanders through an idyll soon to be shattered:

Jumping crocodiles near Darwin

A late-blooming Lotus lily lures and lulls the unwary:

Jumping crocodiles near Darwin

But wait. Take a closer look at those low-lying dark humps at the middle right:

Jumping crocodiles near Darwin

Oh yes, the TC has spotted her first crocodile.

Next stop, the reception room for the Spectacular Jumping Crocodiles Cruise:

Jumping crocodiles near Darwin

Then out onto a reassuringly solid-looking boat:

Jumping crocodiles near Darwin

Gotcha! We walked straight on through that boat and onto the much more intimate craft that would ferry us around the croc-infested banks of the Adelaide River:

Jumping crocodiles near Darwin

The TC, of course, was delighted. So much more real. So much more opportunity to get close to the crocs. Better photographs. Yada yada yada.

Sure enough, we were but a couple of metres off the mooring point when this charmer hove into view:

Jumping crocodiles near Darwin

That was when yours truly, the Travelling Worm, huddled deeper into my book and did my utmost not to attract the TC’s attention. It’s at times like this that she’s apt to whip me out and parade me in front of whatever’s going on, to snap that killer photograph. (Aah, bad choice of words on two counts, worm!)

From this point on it’s all go:

For the faint of heart, here’s a still of the same crocodile:

Jumping crocodiles near Darwin

For the tender of heart, here are some baby crocodiles. They’re hatchlings, about 6 inches long:

Jumping crocodiles near Darwin

Aah, so cute! Beware, mum is not far away:

Jumping crocodiles near Darwin

Isn’t she gorgeous? Here’s the video:

So, if you ever see a footprint like this:

Jumping crocodiles near Darwin

Then look out for a poser like this:

Jumping crocodiles near Darwin

Now I’m back home in the arms of my loved ones. Drool has had his nose put out of joint by my tale of creatures more prehistoric even than he. Peg is, as so often, my anchor:

Jumping crocodiles near Darwin

That’s all for today dudes.
The black cockatoos are in town

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

For someone who professes to be the friend and companion of a travelling worm, it seems to this worm that the TC has an unhealthy fascination with birds. She’s been taking pictures of the black cockatoos that have just arrived in our neck of the woods.

Needless to say, I stayed well out of sight. Black cockatoos are partial to the odd grub or two, and I don’t rate their level of discernment very highly. I think they’d pounce first and ask questions second.

“Oops, sorry, did I just swallow Mark Wordsworm, the famous Travelling Worm?”

These are the Sydney yellow-tailed black cockatoos. They seem to drop in at around this time every year, probably because a certain type of gum tree is in flower.

The book I’m in

Lake News, by Barbara Delinsky.

The photos

Me not inviting attention from a big cocky bird:

The black cockatoos are in town

Black cockatoos are difficult photographic subjects, because they’re… well, black. Here’s what the TC managed to get.

Looking savvy:

The black cockatoos are in town

Looking cute and fluffy:

The black cockatoos are in town

Showing off the yellow tail:

The black cockatoos are in town

Prowling along a branch in silhouette, pretending to be a black panther and then spoiling it by squealing like an eagle:

The TC in hot pursuit, snapped by the TC-once-removed:

The black cockatoos are in town

That’s all for today dudes.
Eye candy in Santa Barbara

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 were in California a couple of weeks ago. The wild wild west and all that. We drove a Mustang down Highway 1 from San Francisco to Los Angeles. As you do. I wrote about it.

Santa Barbara was one of our overnight stops. That city is so pretty, the TC didn’t know where to point her camera next. To be more precise, she didn’t know where not to point her camera next. As a result, we have gigabytes of images. This worm does concede that they’re pretty and so, with my superior discerning eye, I’ve picked a few for this blog post.

My impressions? Time standing still. In a good way.

Can anyone take so much eye candy? You’ll soon find out. Dude, let me know if you make it to the end of this post.

Travel tip

Go there.

Recommended accommodation

Villa Rosa, an inn at 15 Chapala Street, Santa Barbara. As the brochure proudly states: “Henri Matisse, Carmen Miranda, Ernest Hemingway and Errol Flynn never slept here.” But me and the TC did. It’s charming. There’s a picture somewhere below.

The book I’m in

The Last Apache Girl, by Jim Fergus. I’m between pages 98 and 99 at the moment. From the dizzy rate at which the TC is moving me through this book, I can tell that she’s enjoying it.

The photos

Me catching the breeze in front of the Court House clock tower in Santa Barbara:

Eye candy in Santa Barbara

The Villa Rosa inn, where we stayed for the night:

Eye candy in Santa Barbara

The architectural styles are clean and pleasing to the eye:

Eye candy in Santa Barbara

This building has fresco work under the top eaves and in the archways:

Eye candy in Santa Barbara

From the outside, the Court House is merely quaint:

Eye candy in Santa Barbara

But inside, the Court House is magnificent:

Eye candy in Santa Barbara

It feels a trifle weird to walk around such a serene space, knowing that some of the people you pass are attending court cases and probably not having the most stress-free time of their life:

Eye candy in Santa Barbara

The Court House was completed in 1929. Its architecture is Spanish-Moorish:

Eye candy in Santa Barbara

From the top of the Court House clock tower there’s a lovely view of the hills and the town. Here’s just one direction:

Eye candy in Santa Barbara

The Mural Room in the Court House quite takes your breath away:

Eye candy in Santa Barbara

The Mural Room was originally built for the sittings of the County Board of Supervisors. Now you can get married there. Here’s a closer look at one of the walls:

Eye candy in Santa Barbara

Sumptuous stair cases abound. For some reason, this one was adorned with urns. Keats would have done his nut:

Eye candy in Santa Barbara

Ahem, that’s me dangling on the vase. Ode on a Travelling Worm, anyone? 😉 Actually, Peg is in this photograph too. She’s dangling on the inside of the vase, acting as a loyal counterweight. Dear Peg.

There is so much more of the Court House to see. And the TC, bless her travel-worn cotton socks, photographed most of it. But this worm will move on.

Me with Brother Juniper at the Franciscan mission in Santa Barbara :

Eye candy in Santa Barbara

Brother Juniper is one cool dude. The mission itself is pretty cool too:

Eye candy in Santa Barbara

Step inside the mission building. Step into serenity:

Eye candy in Santa Barbara

There’s a roped-off walk that you can do, so that you don’t disturb the residents and the people attending a retreat:

Eye candy in Santa Barbara

A view across the courtyard inside the mission:

Eye candy in Santa Barbara

Still inside the mission, see the skulls and crossbones around this doorway that passes from the graveyard into the church. The TC was surprised to see such decoration in a Catholic mission. This worm has since done some research. Wikipedia says that skull and crossbones have long been used to mark entrances to Spanish cemeteries:

Eye candy in Santa Barbara

This little alcove is inside the church:

Eye candy in Santa Barbara

Here’s the doorway leading from the church into another part of the mission building:

Eye candy in Santa Barbara

The mission museum has some lovely relics. Here’s a large old songbook from their collection:

Eye candy in Santa Barbara

That’s all for today dudes.
Driving a Mustang from San Francisco to LA

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

The TC got it into her head to drive an open-top Mustang down Highway 1, the coastal route from San Francisco to Los Angeles. Actually, it was the TC-once-removed who put this idea into the TC’s head. Reluctantly I have to report that the TC got a bit carried away with the whole experience and left me cooped up in her bag much of the time. I didn’t even have the chance to get cozy with the pony (that’s what we aficionados call a Mustang) although I had been eagerly anticipating that photo opportunity.

Still, the TC did give me an airing every now and then, so I can report some highlights of the trip.

My impressions? The drive to Los Angeles is just beautiful. LA is a dump. Drive on by.

Travel tip

If you can, spend a few days on the drive. There’s much to do and see.

Here’s another tip from a wise worm: Invest in a GPS. Don’t rely on your TC. If she’s anything like mine, you’ll get lost and end up seeing the, ahem, interesting parts of town. En route from Santa Barbara to Santa Monica, we encountered Oxnard, Port Hueneme and Sod Farm.

Recommended restaurant

Lucia Lodge Restaurant, perched on a cliff overlooking the ocean at the southern edge of Big Sur.

Recommended accommodation

Monterey Plaza Hotel & Spa, 400 Cannery Row, Monterey. Even the TC, bless her cotton socks, deserves a touch of luxury every now and then. But be warned, it’s pricey.

The book I’m in

Moonlit Cage, by Linda Holeman. Highly recommended. This worm felt homesick when the TC finished reading The Linnet Bird, by the same author, so I’m glad to be ensconced in another of Linda’s works.

The photos

Me cozying up to an urn in the Santa Barbara courthouse. Yeah, Keats dude: Leaf-fringed legends, deities and mortals abound. In truth, beauty and all that, I feel that I have a certain unfading charm myself:

Driving a Mustang from San Francisco to LA

Here’s the Mustang backed by a fittingly scenic view:

Driving a Mustang from San Francisco to LA

The TC keeps remarking with glee how the car took her up and over 100 miles per hour before she had time to glance at the speedometer. Hmm. This worm is sceptical of the “before she had time” part of that tale:

Driving a Mustang from San Francisco to LA

It’s a 4 litre, 6 cylinder mean machine:

Driving a Mustang from San Francisco to LA

We started in San Francisco. Here’s that serene city, as seen from the Sausalito ferry a few days before we left:

Driving a Mustang from San Francisco to LA

We spent our first night in Monterey. The Monterey Bay Aquarium is well worth a visit. It’s housed in a converted sardine canning factory situated at the end of Cannery Row, of John Steinbeck fame:

Driving a Mustang from San Francisco to LA

Me with a seahorse in the aquarium:

Driving a Mustang from San Francisco to LA

The jellyfish displays are awe-inspiring, dwarfing even the TC’s height:

Driving a Mustang from San Francisco to LA

Here are the jellyfish in motion:

Another sort of jellyfish:

And perhaps the most ethereal yet:

These beasties are seadragons, related to seahorses. These dudes have the art of synchronised swimming down to a T:

Wherever I go, Jonathan is there too. Here he is masquerading as a porpoise, but I spotted him. Is he the most inept spy ever? Double-oh-seagull:

Driving a Mustang from San Francisco to LA

We stayed at the Monterey Plaza Hotel in the middle of Cannery Row. It’s luxury squared. Here’s the view of the sea at dusk, from our room:

Driving a Mustang from San Francisco to LA

Just a few steps down the Row, two homeless people set up for the night. John Steinbeck would probably recognise their experience of the Row more than ours:

Driving a Mustang from San Francisco to LA

The scenery from Highway 1 is sometimes breathtaking. This video gives some idea of its beauty. The noise you can hear is the barking of group of elephant seals on the beach at the bottom of the cliff:

Further along the road, you can get up close and personal with more elephant seals.

Driving a Mustang from San Francisco to LA

Santa Barbara is gorgeous. So impressed was this worm, that I plan to write a blog post dedicated to that city. Here’s a snap to whet your appetite:

Driving a Mustang from San Francisco to LA

Malibu is luxury with a road running through it. Can’t visit your neighbours, for fear of getting run over when you cross the road. Can’t get anywhere without a car. As we approached from the north the TC chirped, “I could live here!” Then Malibu went on and on and on and this worm is pretty sure she changed her mind. Not that the TC would admit such a thing, of course.

Driving a Mustang from San Francisco to LA

Santa Monica was blowing up a storm when we arrived. Extreme weather. The TC had to duck the kamikaze palmtree fronds. At one stage she was walloped in the middle by a low-flying cardboard box, but seemed to take that in her stride. Even so, Santa Monica greeted us with glitz, glamour and fairy lights:

Driving a Mustang from San Francisco to LA

Early next morning all was calm and clean again, the palm fronds magically back in their rightful places:

Driving a Mustang from San Francisco to LA

After a bit of research to find “you know, that beach where you always see people in films rollerblading among the palm trees”, the TC decided on Venice Beach, LA:

Driving a Mustang from San Francisco to LA

We found this skate hire shop:

Driving a Mustang from San Francisco to LA

And the TC fulfilled her heart’s desire:

Driving a Mustang from San Francisco to LA

That’s all for today dudes.
Halloween horror and pumpkins in California

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

In which Wordsworm explores the importance of horror, gore and pumpkins in the American psyche and discovers that there’s a lot to blame the Irish for.

Me and the TC have just got back from California, USA. We drove from San Francisco to LA, through a countryside in the throes of pre-Halloween pumpkinitis. We hit Hollywood just in time to catch the Halloween Horror Night at Universal Studios.

My impressions? To paraphrase Obelix, “These Californians are crazy”. To pacify the TC I’ll add, “But in a good way”.

Travel tip

Don’t turn around. The zombie behind you just may be Irish.

Recommended restaurant

The Hard Rock Café on Universal Citywalk, Hollywood. Good food, bluesy atmosphere, dangling car and wall-hung rock memorabilia. No obvious Irishmen.

The book I’m in

Still Life with Woodpecker, by Tom Robbins. This worm finds the content contrived but passably amusing. From the cover blurb: “[This book] reveals the purpose of the moon… examines the conflict between social activism and romantic individualism… It also deals with the problem of redheads.”

The photos

Me, Peg and the Great Pumpkin. Hey Linus, I found it:

Halloween, horror and pumpkins in California

It was the week before Halloween when we drove down the Californian coast. Pumpkin patches littered the countryside. What is it with pumpkins, ghosts and the American psyche? This worm has done a bit of research. It’s said that the Irish brought the tradition of Halloween and jack o’lanterns with them to the States. Originally, jack o’lanterns were made from the humble turnip. There’s a confused story of a drunken Irish farmer called Jack who couldn’t get in to heaven or hell, so he had to stagger around purgatory for ever after. To light his way, he hacked a hole in a turnip and put a burning coal into it to form a lantern. For some reason best known to themselves, the other villagers decided that if they made their own turnip lanterns, this would scare away Jack and similar undesirables. Well, they were Irish of course.

When the settlers came to the States and discovered the magnificent pumpkins in their new land, they started using pumpkins instead of turnips to make their jack o’lanterns.

This is the picturesque Webb Ranch Pumpkin Patch near Palo Alto:

Halloween horror and pumpkins in California

Not all pumpkins are the same, you know. Only the very best will become worthy jack o’lanterns, fit to ward off the Halloween witches and spirits. When you see one you like, hang on to it with all your might:

Halloween horror and pumpkins in California

Night falls. Mist rises. The Hollywood streets undergo a frightening metamorphosis. Chainsaws thrum. Screams chill the bones. Bones clatter over the screams. It’s Universal Studios Halloween Horror Night:

Halloween horror and pumpkins in California

Oh, for the comforting glow of a pumpkin now:

Halloween horror and pumpkins in California

If you scream, you’re fair game:

Halloween horror and pumpkins in California

There’s no escape:

Halloween horror and pumpkins in California

They’re everywhere:

Halloween horror and pumpkins in California

Some poor souls didn’t make it:

Halloween horror and pumpkins in California

This guy should have tried a pumpkin as a coach:

Halloween horror and pumpkins in California

Dude, you’re just tall:

Halloween horror and pumpkins in California

The only one who could ever reach me was the son of a preacher man:

Halloween horror and pumpkins in California

But day dawns, justice overcomes and pumpkins prevail. Me and a panel from the door of the Santa Barbara Courthouse:

Halloween horror and pumpkins in California

Actually, pumpkins don’t have it all their own way. Me with a soon-to-be-extinct slice of pumpkin pie:

Halloween horror and pumpkins in California

Oh-Oh, spaghetti-o. Linus, I fear the TC ate the Great Pumpkin.

That’s all for today dudes.
Travelling Worm goes to Atlassian

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

The other day I dozed off inside a good book and woke up to find myself at the Atlassian office in Sydney. What on earth is Atlassian? The TC rabbits on about them all the time. Evidently they’re the guys who make Confluence wiki, JIRA bug tracker and some other equally odd-sounding things.

A little bird tweeted that Atlassian are making some big announcements next week. This worm was there during the busy run-up to the big day.

My impressions? Beer fridges, everywhere.

Word of the day: Standup.

Travel tip

When you visit Atlassian in Sydney, remember there’s an upstairs too. That’s where the TC hangs out. Take her some chocolate and your welcome is assured.

Recommended restaurant

Peace Harmony, corner of Erskine and Sussex streets, about 5 minutes’ walk from the Atlassian office. It’s a vegetarian Thai restaurant. The TC raves about the tasty food, the peaceful atmosphere and the outstanding service.

The book I’m in

The Linnet Bird, by Linda Holeman.

The photos

Me inside Atlassian, getting pally with Charlie. He’s the weird looking blue dude with his arms in the air, holding up a saucer (or whatever):

Travelling Worm goes to Atlassian

The Atlassian offices are in the old Corn Exchange building, near Darling Harbour in Sydney:

Travelling Worm goes to Atlassian

Here’s a closer view. The JIRA team is right behind this window:

Travelling Worm goes to Atlassian

Back inside now, this window lights the FishEye/Crucible team:

Travelling Worm goes to Atlassian

Charlie is a bit of a clothes horse. He gets dressed up in various outfits and then hangs around the meeting rooms or Atlassian events, all primped and proper. Here’s me chatting him up. He’s dressed for the board room, where the occasional game of poker happens too:

Travelling Worm goes to Atlassian

Me and Charlie outside the Fishbowl meeting room:

Travelling Worm goes to Atlassian

Me and Charlie in the area of the engineering and product management chiefs. Their desks look out on a gym, so Charlie feels comfortable in less formal attire:

Travelling Worm goes to Atlassian

I doff my mortarboard to Jason of the design team for his endless inventiveness in Charlie’s wardrobe.

Guess what? Hand was there too. You remember Hand, the annoying creature who attached himself to the TC when we were in Surfers Paradise last year. He’s an intrusive fellow with a finger in every pie. So it was no surprise when he insisted on attending a standup at Atlassian. A standup is a weird ritual practised by ‘agile’ programmers. This worm doesn’t think they look particularly agile, loitering around in a circle and uttering the odd technical phrase every now and then.

Here’s Hand getting underfoot at a standup. The feet are attached to the technical writing team:

Travelling Worm goes to Atlassian

Can you guess which foot belongs to the TC?

That’s all for today dudes.
Dawn in Surfers Paradise

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 flitted back to Surfers Paradise on the Australian Gold Coast last weekend. We’ve been there before. This time was just a quick hop, to join the TC-once-removed at the end of a week-long conference.

Me, I’m no adrenaline junky, so I stayed comfortably lodged in a good book while the TCs went cavorting around Movie World. They came back gibbering and quivering, having mistakenly got on the Scooby-Doo coaster with the expectations of a gentle ride interrupted by a few spooks popping out of corners. Hah, I could have told them what to expect. They were also sizzling with excitement after the Hollywood Stunt Driver show, where they claim they had to duck flying cars and douse burning eyebrows after the explosive finale.

Later, the TC dragged me and the TC-once-removed out to see the dawn on the beach. Some people just can’t be persuaded that the sun rises every day, even without their being there.

My impressions? Here comes the grudging admission: It was worthwhile. The low-angled rays from the sun yielded interesting effects of light and shade.

Word of the day: Toes

Another blog about bookmarks and related oddities

My friend the Sandgroper recently tweeted me a link to the Forgotten Bookmarks site. What a cool idea! The blogger works in a bookshop that specialises in rare books. She blogs about the weird, interesting or touching things that she finds in the books. If you’re in a mood for macabre juxtapositions, take a look at the entry called From The Library of Paul Bunyan.

Of course, this worm was once a forgotten bookmark. I stayed buried in a book for many years, neglected and forgotten until the TC found me again about two years ago. That’s how I’ve managed to retain my youthful appearance and zest all these 25 long years!

Travel tip

Things happen. All the time. Whether you’re there or not.

Recommended restaurant

Montmartre by the Sea, corner of Elkhorn Ave and The Esplanade, just across the road from the beach. It’s one of the few places in Surfers Paradise that serves good coffee. Get there in the early morning for freshly-baked raspberry muffins.

The book I’m in

The Street Philosopher, by Matthew Plampin. A taut, realistic view of a newspaper correspondent’s experiences in and after the Crimean War.

The photos

Take a walk with me through the evening and early morning in Surfers Paradise. It’s a little surreal there. Things will happen. That’s guaranteed. Join me in contemplating your toes, if you’re lucky enough to have any.

Me getting bluesy:

Dawn in Surfers Paradise

The TC took this snap when about to set off in all innocence on the Scooby-Doo ride at Movie World:

Dawn in Surfers Paradise

Here comes the sun, it’s all right:

Dawn in Surfers Paradise

A lone surfer in paradise:

Dawn in Surfer's Paradise

Early sunlight glancing off a footprint in the sand:

Dawn in Surfer's Paradise

Sunlight forming a halo around your toes:

Dawn in Surfer's Paradise

Now it looks like the foot is bulging up at you, as if someone is walking upside down under the sand:

Dawn in Surfer's Paradise

Jonathan was there too:

Dawn in Surfer's Paradise

Shell shadows:

Dawn in Surfer's Paradise

This dude is finding the early morning pickings slim, just a cigarette but or two. He does have impressive toes:

Dawn in Surfer's Paradise

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.