This is the blog of Mark Wordsworm, the travelling worm. I’m a 40-year-old bookmark (give or take a few years) and I proudly boast my own Hallmark serial number, 95 HBM 80-1. You’ll probably want to read all about me and my Travelling Companion (the TC).
Today’s travel notes
Me and the TC left White Cliffs and its opal mines (check my previous post) to drive deeper into the Australian Outback. We stopped at a dry salt lake in the Willandra Lakes Region, near Ivanhoe, NSW.
The book I’m in
Bitter Sun, by Beth Lewis. I’m tucked in right at the beginning of this book, and already I’m intrigued by the main character.
Travel tips
Hop out of the vehicle and breath in the air. You never know who’ll pass by.
The photos
Me and Peg on the edge of the salt pan:
The vegetation around the salt pan is low and sparse. Just behind yours truly is a small Old Man Saltbush, one of many in the area. The leaves are edible and, you guessed it, salty.
The next pic shows what the scene might look like if you forget to don your sunglasses (or if, like the TC, you forget to adjust the camera settings to cater for the bright light):
But wait, what’s that shape on the edge of the salt pan? Zooming in reveals the passer by:
It’s a feral cat. They can survive even the harsh conditions of the Australian Outback.
Viewed through sunglasses, or with adjusted camera settings, the salt pan is easier to view but less aetherial:
The salt pan is on the edge of Garnpung Lake Road, which passes through the regions of Ivanhoe and Willandra Lakes. It’s a dirt road, but good driving through beautiful country. Janet the Jeep was in her element :
This is the blog of Mark Wordsworm, the travelling worm. I’m a 40-year-old bookmark (give or take a few years) and I proudly boast my own Hallmark serial number, 95 HBM 80-1. You’ll probably want to read all about me and my Travelling Companion (the TC).
Today’s travel notes
Me and the TC spent the last few days in the Australian Outback. Although it was a short trip (six days in total), it was the experience of a life time. This post tells of our stay in White Cliffs, a small and remote opal mining settlement in far western New South Wales.
The book I’m in
The Book of Eve, by Meg Clothier. Ancient intrigue and engaging characters. I’m now nestled near the end of the book. It’s been quite a ride.
Travel tips
Take spare fuel, in case the fuel station at White Cliffs is closed or doesn’t have the right fuel for your vehicle.
Recommended accommodation
White Cliffs Underground Motel. The experience is unique. The rooms are entirely underground, as are many of the homes in the area, dug out to provide cool shelter from the extreme heat in summer. Some of the dugouts are converted opal mine shafts and tunnels.
The photos
Me and Peg in our dugout at the White Cliffs Underground Motel, catching the breeze from a ventilation shaft:
White Cliffs is in the middle of nowhere (by some definition of nowhere), at 1,025 km west of Sydney and 781 km north-east of Adelaide. The last part of the route is Opal Miners Way, picturesque especially in the late afternoon with the colours blowing across the landscape:
Janet the Jeep waits while the TC snaps the sundown shots. Janet herself is picturesque at sundown too:
The entrance to the Underground Motel is long and low, with the rooms built into the hill behind:
Being a bookmark, yours truly is comfortable with snug spaces. Other folks might worry that the underground corridors and rooms will feel small and close. However, inside the Underground Motel, the walls are painted white, good for giving an impression of cheer and space:
In search of our dugout:
Passing the stairs that lead up to the roof:
Our dugout:
We arrived quite late, and so missed the famed sunset. The TC, bless her cotton socks, sprang up before dawn and led us up to the roof to catch the sunrise:
The rectangular low blocks are covered air shafts for the rooms below. In the car park in the distance, Janet the Jeep waits patiently.
After breakfast, we explored the opal mines. Mounds of white dirt encircle the mine shafts. Take care, dear traveller, not to misstep and fall down a hole:
Pieces of equipment stand around, some in use, some not:
Inventive methods are used to cover open shafts, like these old bed frames:
Underneath the bed frames:
Swallows perch on old metal drums, which are also used to warn of open mine shafts:
Old working vehicles rest in peace, like this Commer truck:
Your trusty bookmark cosied up to Commer the Truck:
Janet the Jeep needed fuel, but we discovered that the fuel station at White Cliffs opens late on Sundays. Janet was keen to be on the road again, so the TC Once Removed (he’s the TC’s other travelling companion) topped up from our spare tank:
Bonus tip from the TC Once Removed: Cover your sleeves and wear gloves if you can, otherwise you’ll smell of fuel for the rest of the trip.
Stay tuned for more of our Outback adventures. Until my next post…
Me and the TC (read about us) are on the road again. During our Outback adventures, we’ve met several other travellers. Not least are the Emus.
Tracks in the red dirt alert you to their presence:
These birds can run at a speed of 50 km per hour (30 miles per hour). We had proof of that when a bird charged out of the bush, ran behind one of the cars in our convoy, hugging the bumper so that the driver had no idea it was there, then spun around the car and dashed in front of it. Luckily, bird and driver avoided a collision.
From an Emu’s point of view, it seems that cars are either play things or creatures that need to be challenged. This bird is most likely considering a dash onto the highway:
Emus are the second-largest bird in the world. They’re nearly 6 feet tall (1.9 metres). That’s a lot bigger than yours truly.
The next encounter is too close for comfort, methinks, but the TC (bless her cotton socks), was keen to get the shot:
This is the blog of Mark Wordsworm, the travelling worm. I’m a 40-year-old bookmark (give or take a few years) and I proudly boast my own Hallmark serial number, 95 HBM 80-1. You’ll probably want to read all about me and my Travelling Companion (the TC).
Today’s travel notes
Me and the TC continue our Outback adventures. Our first overnight stop, after a long day of driving, was Nyngan. This is a little Australian town with a big heart. In the middle of the town is a large steel statue of a fisherman, fondly dubbed the Big Bogan. There are layers of meaning behind the word bogan. Read on to know more about the statue, the name, and the town.
The book I’m in
The Book of Eve, by Meg Clothier. Ancient intrigue and engaging characters. This worm is about a third of the way through the book, and is thoroughly enjoying it.
Travel tips
Take the time to stop at little towns along the way. There’s a story at every town.
Recommended accommodation
Nyngan Riverside Tourist Park. It’s a well-kept camp ground that has place for tents and trailers, and also offers stand-alone cabins for hire.
The photos
Me with the Big Bogan and his dog, Rusty:
The town of Nyngan lies in the Bogan Shire council in western New South Wales. With a population of around 1,900 people, Nyngan is a small town with a big heart.
The Big Bogan statue was erected in 2015, to give the town a tourist attraction and to honour the history of the area. The dog, Rusty, was added in 2022. The Big Bogan is made of steel and is nearly 6 metres high:
On the statue are various decorations, including a large spider on its leg and the Southern Cross star formation on its arm. Between the man and the dog rests an esky (an Australian word for a cooler).
What does the word bogan mean, a faithful reader might wonder, and where did it come from? There are numerous stories about the word and its origins. Your trusty Wordsworm likes to tell it like this: The word bogan has acquired an unfortunate meaning over recent years. It’s used to refer to country people, along the lines of country bumpkin or redneck. However, the original meaning of the word in the Aboriginal Wiradjuri language is “birthplace of a great man”.
Through the town of Nyngan runs the Bogan River, on its way from the Harvey Ranges to join the Darling River. The TC snapped this photo in the early evening, at the Riverside Tourist Park where we spent the night:
Early the next morning, a fearsome raptor surveyed its territory from the river bank. Needless to say, yours truly, Wordsworm, stayed out of sight. There’s no place like a good book, especially when danger looms:
In 1990, Nyngan was devastated by the worst flooding since the settlement of the town. Almost all residents had to be airlifted to safety. To commemorate the rescue, an Army helicopter stands on a pole outside the railway station:
The railway station itself has been converted into a museum:
Outside the museum stands a replica of an old Royal Mail coach that used to travel between Bathurst and Bourke. Imagine traversing the Australian Outback in a horse-drawn vehicle like this:
The Commonwealth Bank building in Nyngan was built sometime between the First and Second World Wars. The building was designed by E.H. Henderson, who was Chief Architect of the Commonwealth of Australia from 1929-1939. He designed many of the Commonwealth Banks buildings in Australia:
Our Outback adventures continue. Until my next post…
This is the blog of Mark Wordsworm, the travelling worm. I’m a 40-year-old bookmark (give or take a few years) and I proudly boast my own Hallmark serial number, 95 HBM 80-1. You’ll probably want to read all about me and my Travelling Companion (the TC).
Today’s travel notes
Me and the TC are heading west, into the Australian Outback. On our first day, signs beside the road welcomed us to the Blue Mountains, the Inner West, and then the Great Outback. We took an interesting route, inadvertently stumbling across part of the Australian silo art trail. Along the way, we encountered our first road trains and found some cotton.
The book I’m in
The Book of Eve, by Meg Clothier. Ancient intrigue and engaging characters. This worm is about a third of the way through the book, and is thoroughly enjoying it.
Travel tips
Be off the roads before dark, if you can. There are no lights in the Outback, and the kangaroos like to cross the road in the dark.
The photos
Me at the water tower in Warren, New South Wales:
Warren is a small town in the middle of a thriving agricultural area: sheep and wool, wheat, and cotton.
In fact, the road to Warren is lined with cotton:
It’s white and fluffy, just as you’d expect cotton puffs to be:
We encountered our first road trains, the infamously long and fast semi-trucks that transport produce around Australia. Notice the warning boards on the front (and back) of the truck, announcing that it’s a road train. Notice also the length (this is all one truck) and the size in comparison to Janet the Jeep behind the truck:
In this case, the produce was, you guessed it, cotton:
At Warren, we found our first water tower art. The tower was erected in 1939, and the artwork was added in 2021. The concept design was by Sam Brooks. The work was painted by Bastian Allfrey.
Maggie posed in front of the tower for scale:
Nevertire is one of those Australian towns with an amazing name. The town’s water tower depicts the agricultural activities of the area. First, sheep shearing:
The artwork was completed in 2022 by Artist Bastian Allfrey. Another side of the tower shows wheat:
And, this worm’s favourite, cotton:
A posse of kangaroos kept an eye on the TC as she took the photos:
I’ll post more of our Outback adventures. In the meantime…
This is the blog of Mark Wordsworm, the travelling worm. I’m a 40-year-old bookmark (give or take a few years) and I proudly boast my own Hallmark serial number, 95 HBM 80-1. You’ll probably want to read all about me and my Travelling Companion (the TC).
Today’s travel notes
Me and the TC drove the historic Bridle Track and the scenic Root Hog Road this weekend with a group of friends. We camped overnight at Mary Flynn Reserve on the Bridle Track.
The book I’m in
Ten Days in A Mad-House, by Nellie Bly. A somewhat horrifying true tale of a reporter in 1887, who had herself checked into an asylum for the insane and wrote a book about her experiences.
Travel tips
You need a four-wheel drive vehicle to follow the tracks mentioned in this post. If you decide not to camp nor to stop at the various reserves along the way, you can drive the Bridle Track in two to three hours.
The photos
Me with Janet the Jeep and Peg:
Introducing the newest member of our merry menagerie: Janet the Jeep. She’s a 2014 Jeep JK Wrangler, manual transmission, with a 3.6 litre, 6-cylinder petrol engine. She has two side doors rather than four, and is known as a shortie because of her short wheel base. Unlike yours truly, Janet is not built for speed but she’s plucky and strong. More like Peg, in fact.
A keen-eyed reader might notice the little Jeep icon on the windscreen next to this worm. Janet is cute, and she knows it.
At the start of the Bridle Track, a sign explains the need for a 4WD vehicle and due care:
Most of the track is a well-graded dirt road. In some sections, there’s a high rocky wall on one side and a steep drop-off on the other. In this section, the road curved through a rocky bluff:
In years gone by, one specific section of the Bridle Track was very narrow and slippery: the infamous Monaghan’s Bluff. NSW state has since built a bypass, though a sign still greets you as you enter the area:
The Bridle Track was built in the early 1800s, to give gold miners and settlers a route from Bathurst to Hill End. Bathurst is now a thriving regional city and Hill End is a small town that welcomes visitors interested in the history of the area.
Right on the side of the Bridle Track is an abandoned mine shaft. The brave can walk into it. The TC, bless her cotton socks, counts herself as one of the brave. She found that she could stand, with head slightly bowed, in the tunnel:
We camped at the beautiful Mary Flynn Reserve. This view shows part of the campground and surrounding area, taken from the Bridle Track before descending into the valley:
The Turon River flows past the campsite:
As the sun goes down, Janet stands guard over the TC’s tent:
A rainbow campfire, thanks to minerals added by one of the campers:
In the chill of the early morning (it was 6° Centigrade), the sun warms up the rocks on the opposite side of the river, while neighbours get their campfire going down below:
After packing up our camp, we drove back along the Bridle Track to Root Hog Crossing. This is a crossing of the Macquarie River, at the junction of the Bridle Track and Root Hog Road. The river level was on the high side (measured at about 1 metre at the Rock Forest station), and there was a reasonably strong current. Janet says that it’s the strongest current she’s tackled to date:
Thanks to our friend Matt for making the video.
Before doing a trip like this, the TC does plenty of research. She checks the river levels over a couple of weeks, to see what the river’s doing. She also monitors the fire warnings and weather forecasts. On reaching the river crossing, if it looks a bit high or strong current, she’d walk into it first. If you can’t walk the current, then the car can’t take it either. For this crossing, luckily there was a group of three cars doing the crossing when we arrived. We watched them, and judged it safe for our vehicles.
Root Hog Road is the road of views:
The next couple of photos are from a previous trip, when we traversed Root Hog Road in the opposite direction. A couple of motorbikes passed us when we stopped to take in the view:
Another road sign advised due caution:
Also from our previous trip, this video shows the last part of Root Hog Road as it drops towards the Macquarie River at the junction of Root Hog Road and the Bridle Track. The crossing is to the right, but we turned to the left to take a look at the river and campground:
Cleanup on the day after this week’s trip. Janet got her carpets wet in the Root Hog Crossing, and her paintwork was dusty. The tent was damp from the morning dew:
This is the blog of Mark Wordsworm, the travelling worm. I’m a 40-year-old bookmark (give or take a few years) and I proudly boast my own Hallmark serial number, 95 HBM 80-1. You’ll probably want to read all about me and my Travelling Companion (the TC).
Today’s travel notes
Me and the TC spent a couple of days this week strolling the streets of Dublin. Read on to soak up some of the atmosphere of the city.
The book I’m in
Darknet, by Matthew Maher. A rollicking tale of murder and mayhem in the world of high tech.
Travel tips
A hop-on hop-off bus tour is a good option on a rainy day.
The photos
Me taking the DoDublin Hop On Hop Off bus tour:
In the background is the River Liffey, which runs through Dublin. Spanning the river is the Grattan Bridge, built in 1874. It’s named after Daniel Grattan, one of the founders of the Irish Parliament.
This worm enjoyed the warning from our tour guide, Adam, at the start of the trip: “Just a health and safety message before we start: if you see me jumping up and running off the bus, you should probably follow me.”
Next up is the Ha’penny Bridge, probably the best-known of the Dublin bridges. It was constructed in 1816 and is for pedestrians only. Its official name is the Liffey Bridge, but it’s commonly known as Ha’penny Bridge due to the toll of half a penny (a ha’penny) that was originally charged for crossing the bridge:
This view shows the steps at the start of the bridge:
One of our days in Dublin was wet and grey. The other was bright and sunny. Strolling along the Liffey, we noticed that quite a few of the mooring posts had one or two ladybirds in residence. They were always huddled just below the curve of the rounded top of the post. Perhaps they were waiting for a ride:
A striking sight on the river bank in the district of Temple Bar is the Sunlight Chambers building. The panels of colourful, raised figures depict the story of soap. The building was commissioned and built by the company Lever Brothers (now Unilever) in 1900-1910, and named after their best-selling product: Sunlight Soap:
The Snug claims to be the oldest pub in Temple Bar:
The AIB Bank building in Dame Street was designed by Thomas Deane and built in the 1870s:
Ireland’s longest-running pen speciality shop, Pen Corner, opened its doors in 1927 and closed in May 2022. You can still see the shop front at the corner of College Green and Trinity Street:
Continuing with the writing theme, here’s a street outside a school in the area of Portobello, where the traffic posts have been converted to pencils:
The next building that caught the TC’s eye is number 2 Palace Street in Temple Bar, built around 1771. It used to be owned by the Sick and Indigent Roomkeepers Society, which is Dublin’s oldest surviving charity. The building is now owned by the Dublin Corporation, and is protected under a preservation order:
This lovely artwork is in a small park near Dublin Castle. The park is a memorial given by the people of Flanders in remembrance of the Irishmen who gave their lives for the freedom and independence of Belgium in the war of 1914-1918:
Here’s a general street scene in the area of Portobello. One of the buildings proclaims, “We <heart> Dublin”:
This is the blog of Mark Wordsworm, the travelling worm. I’m a 40-year-old bookmark (give or take a few years) and I proudly boast my own Hallmark serial number, 95 HBM 80-1. You’ll probably want to read all about me and my Travelling Companion (the TC).
Today’s travel notes
Me and the TC spent a couple of days in Dublin this week. In addition to our encounter in the park, in which Oscar Wilde got a new green carnation, we cruised around Dublin Castle and a couple of cathedrals. The TC had a go at translating some Latin, which led to predictably humorous results. And I coined a new phrase: whimsy-driven sightseeing.
The book I’m in
Darknet, by Matthew Maher. A rollicking tale of murder and mayhem in the world of high tech.
Travel tips
Instead of trying to see all the sights, it can be more enjoyable to stroll around and look at whatever catches your eye. I’m coining a new phrase to describe that way of being a tourist: Whimsy-driven sightseeing.
Recommended restaurants
Cornucopia Wholefoods Restaurant, Wicklow Street, Dublin. The bakery goods are delicious. In particular, the TC went “Mmmmm” over the gluten-free banana bread. The coffee is probably worth passing up on, though.
The photos
Me with Leonessa in the courtyard of Dublin Castle:
Leonessa is a bronze sculpture of a lioness by contemporary artist Davide Rivalta.
From on high, another lion peers down into the courtyard. It accompanies the soldier above the further archway in this picture:
Stepping back, the full grandeur of the castle courtyard becomes visible:
This shot shows the outside wall of the castle and the Chapel Royal on the left:
On the right of the above picture are three archways. The middle one leads into the courtyard. In a room above this archway, Dublin Castle was formally handed over by the last English Lord Lieutenant of Ireland to the Provisional Government of Ireland, led by Michael Collins, on 16 January 1922.
The other side of the Chapel Royal:
Moving away from the castle, you might find yourself drawn to Christ Church Cathedral. This ancient and lovely building was founded in approximately 1030 by the Norse King of Dublin, a Viking with the romantic name of Sitriuc Silkenbeard.
Here’s a front view of Christ Church Cathedral:
If you follow the green bus down through the archway, you can examine the other side of the cathedral, which is equally striking:
Stroll a few blocks south down Patrick Street, and you’ll come across St Patrick’s Park and St Patrick’s Cathedral:
Evidently the tomb of Jonathan Swift, author of Gulliver’s Travels, lies in the nave of the church.
It’s believed that, in the fifth century AD, St Patrick baptised the first Irish Christians in a well situated where the cathedral park now lies. The first church was built on the site to commemorate the event.
Me with the coat of arms outside St Patrick’s Cathedral:
The TC, bless her cotton socks, had a go at translating the Latin on the coat of arms.
First she tackled the wording on the light blue banner. Her initial reading was this:
noli allium sapere
Which translates to:
don’t taste the garlic
Ha! Actually, it’s “noli altum sapere“, which means “don’t be too wise“, or “don’t be high-minded“.
Now for the longer bit:
sigillum commune capituli ecclesie cathedralis sancti patricii dublinie
Translation:
the common seal of the chapter of the cathedral church of saint patrick in dublin
This is the blog of Mark Wordsworm, the travelling worm. I’m a 40-year-old bookmark (give or take a few years) and I proudly boast my own Hallmark serial number, 95 HBM 80-1. You’ll probably want to read all about me and my Travelling Companion (the TC).
Today’s travel notes
Me and the TC came across a couple of statues of Oscar Wilde in Dublin. To our delight, one of them was accompanied by its original sculptor, Danny Osborne. He was drilling into the statue’s hand! Read on for the story.
The book I’m in
Darknet, by Matthew Maher. A rollicking tale of murder and mayhem in the world of high tech.
Travel tips
Take a walk in the park, even in the rain. You never know who you’ll meet or what you’ll see.
The photos
Sculptor Danny Osborne repairing his statue of Oscar Wilde in Merrion Square Park, Dublin:
It was a wet and grey day in Dublin today. Nevertheless, me and the TC took a walk in the park. To our surprise, this fellow climbed up a ladder behind the sculpture of Oscar Wilde and started drilling into the statue’s hand. The TC, ever fearless in pursuit of knowledge, asked him if he was the original artist. He said yes, and added that he was replacing the green carnation that was broken a few years ago.
The sculpture, erected in 1997, is magnificent and eye-catching. It emphasizes the beauty of stone, much loved by Wilde himself. The large base is made of quartz from the Wicklow Mountains which lie outside Dublin. The jacket is carved from green jade, the head and hands from white jade, the collar and cuffs from pink thulite, and the trousers, shoes, and socks from blue and black granite.
The statue originally held a bronze carnation in its right hand. Presumably the bronze would turn green with the passage of time. We were lucky enough to encounter the artist doing the necessary repairs to replace the carnation.
Back in Oscar’s time, a green carnation was a symbol of the queer community. In 1892, he made the artificially-coloured flower famous by wearing one on his lapel and encouraging his friends to do the same. Whenever anyone asked what the green carnation meant, Oscar would imply mystery and slight danger. There are rumours that he did this to generate publicity for his new play, Lady Windermere’s Fan.
The statue provoked some controversy at the time of its unveiling. Seen from another angle, Oscar does look a little debauched and careless:
However, this worm finds the work intriguing and engaging.
Me with another version of Oscar, just across the way from the park. This one is right outside the playwright’s home:
This is the blog of Mark Wordsworm, the travelling worm. I’m a 40-year-old bookmark (give or take a few years) and I proudly boast my own Hallmark serial number, 95 HBM 80-1. You’ll probably want to read all about me and my Travelling Companion (the TC).
Today’s travel notes
Me and the TC were in the area of Killarney in County Kerry, Ireland, a couple of days ago. We visited Torc Waterfall and Ladies View.
The book I’m in
Darknet, by Matthew Maher. A rollicking tale of murder and mayhem in the world of high tech.
Travel tips
Turn off the tech to enjoy the natural beauty. But the tech is useful in getting you to the right spot!
The photos
Me at Torc Waterfall:
For an immersive experience (as the high tech folks say these days), watch this video of the waterfall:
The waterfall is a very short walk from the carpark: approximately 200 metres.
Green is the colour of the walk:
High on the branches of the forest, moss glows in the gentle light:
Our next stop was Ladies View, a lookout point over the lakes of Killarney:
The name “Ladies View” comes from the popularity of the lookout among Queen Victoria’s ladies in waiting during the royal visit to Killarney in 1861.
Here’s another shot of the lakes, sans yours truly:
Thus spake the notice board:
The ground drops away quite steeply at the edge of the road. The TC peered over the lip and came eye to eye with a deer quietly browsing:
Travelling Worm 