High in the Rockies

This is the blog of Mark Wordsworm, the travelling worm. I’m a 25-year-old bookmark (I haven’t aged at all since I first wrote this introduction) 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, and the “TC once removed”, are in Boulder, Colorado. Yesterday we took a day trip into the Rocky Mountain National Park. It’s an easy drive from Boulder. Once in the national park, we wound upwards along Trail Ridge Road, passing the highest point at over 12,000 feet (3,700 metres), then descending slightly to the Alpine Visitor’s Center.

Word of the day

Lustrum is the word of the day. It means a five-year period. The term originates in ancient Rome from the name of the closing ceremony after each census of the Roman people, which took place every five years.

The book I’m in

Lustrum, by Robert Harris. I’m embedded in book two of the Cicero trilogy. Roman intrigue is a cutthroat affair.

Travel tip

Take lots of water with you, and moisturise copiously. In summer the air is hot and dry. This worm’s skin felt like paper each time I stepped outside.

Recommended restaurant

The Kitchen in Boulder has good food, graciously served, in an attractive and restful environment.

The photos

Me and a few alpine aspens and pines, on the way to the Alpine Visitor’s Center in Rocky Mountain National Park:

Yes, that’s snow. In summer. (The TC would have inserted double exclamation points at the end of the last two sentences. I refrain, but you, dear reader, may imagine them there if that brings the scene alive for you.)

Here’s another shot of the same scene, this time not graced with my noble form, but with the background in focus:

At close on 12,000 feet (3,600 metres), the Alpine Visitor’s Center on Trail Ridge Road is the highest of all visitors centres in the US national parks system. This shot shows the range of snow-capped peaks visible when you stand with the visitors’ centre behind you, looking to the left:

Beware the effects of the high altitude. (The previous sentence provides another opportunity for an exclamation mark, if the whim takes you.) The TC and the “TC once removed” were both affected by dizziness and fatigue.

This photo shows the view from the same spot, looking towards the right:

That’s all for today, folks.

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Mt St Helens, a mountain with a story

This is the blog of Mark Wordsworm, the travelling worm. I’m a 25-year-old bookmark (I haven’t aged at all since I first wrote this introduction) 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 Seattle in the USA last week, and we took a day from our busy schedule to visit Mt St Helens. It’s about a three-hour drive from Seattle to the mountain. Well worth the trip. This mountain is more than just a pretty face. It has a story to tell. One of destruction and renewal.

Word of the day

Revival is the word of the day. According to Merriam-Webster, the word was first used in print in 1651. The same year saw the first use of highfalutin words like Tenebrae as well as the more down-to-earth stewpan.

The book I’m in

Revival, by Stephen King. I’m in the hands of the master of storytelling, the magister of horror. This book is one of his best.

Travel tip

Beware the weather. Check the forecast before you go. It’d be a pity to go all that way and then be unable to see the mountain or the views. Wear layers of clothing. The temperature around the mountain can change as you round a corner. Hot under the sun one minute, chilly in the wind the next.

The photos

Me with Mt St Helens in the background:

On 18 May 1980, Mt St Helens erupted. The blast blew the north side off the mountain, and the subsequent volcanic eruptions took out the top of the mountain too. From being a rounded, snow-capped summit, Mt St Helens became a partially hollowed shell. A little like an ice cream scoop on its side.

Forest covers the slopes on the way to the mountain:

People knew the eruption was coming. Scientists were monitoring the volcano, which had been becoming increasingly active over the previous months. Residents and holiday-makers were warned, and the area was evacuated ahead of time.

The mountain pops into view. At some distance from the scene of the eruption, verdant forest clothes the hills.

But the force of the blast, and the direction it took, caught scientists by surprise. Around 8am on 18 May 2018, an earthquake triggered a gigantic landslide that carried away the north face of the mountain. This was the largest landslide ever recorded.

The weakened north face was no match for the built-up forces of steam and gas inside the volcano. A mixture of steam, gas, and partially molten rock blasted through the side of the mountain and rolled on over the landscape, destroying everything in its path.

The mountain toys with the clouds, contemplating whether to use them as a veil or a tiara:

Immediately following the blast came the pyroclastic flow. The stream of furiously hot volcanic ash, steam, blistering hot rocks, and pumice stone moved at over 1000 km per hour, obliterating everything in its path and reforming the landscape as it went.

Tree skeletons litter the way. A harbinger of the story to be told:

The story of the mountain is interwoven with the stories of the people who lived and worked around her. Vulcanologist David Johnston was observing the mountain from a ridge ten kilometres away when the eruption occurred. He died within seconds of the start of the eruption, when the volcanic blast hit the ridge where he was located. Local resident Harry Truman decided to stay in the area he loved so much, and is assumed to have died in the pyroclastic flow. More than fifty other people died as a result of the volcanic eruption.

Closer, ever closer, and the landscape ever bleaker.

Now we see the distinctive form of the north face. What was once a more or less symmetrical dome is now a scooped-out bowl, entirely missing one side of its rim:

As well as a story of destruction, this is a story of renewal and revival. After the eruption, man and nature alike are working to rebuild the area. Perhaps even more remarkably, the mountain itself is reforming. Volcanic activity constantly pushes lava to the surface. The lava hardens and cools, forming a dome in the middle of the bowl, continuously rising and reforming.

In the middle of the bowl rises a mound that will one day form a new peak:

Round the dead tree trunks new life grows:

Hardy wildflowers bloom:

Paintbrush in bright red:

Tiny clusters of white:

Purple figwort:

Everlasting off-white flowers looking perhaps more squashed than alive. At times this worm feels a little two-dimensional too:

The Mt St Helens observation point is on the ridge where vulcanologist David Johnston was located when the volcano erupted. He was observing the mountain from a location which he and others thought was safe. The sideways eruption and the force of the blast took him and everyone else by surprise. He had time to say, “Vancouver! Vancouver! This is it!” Then he disappeared from this world, along with everything else in the path of the blast and the pyroclastic flow.

It’s sobering to stand where David Johnston stood, and view the scene that is even now so different from what he saw then. Afternoon light brings the landscape into sharp relief:

We’ve reached the end of this post, and Mt St Helens takes a bow. The story is not over. The cycle of destruction and revival will continue:

That’s all for today, folks.

Space/time glitch on Seattle skyline

This is the blog of Mark Wordsworm, the travelling worm. I’m a 25-year-old bookmark (I haven’t aged at all since I first wrote this introduction) 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

The picture below shows the Seattle skyline, as seen from the top of Smith Tower. The TC, bless her cotton socks, says that the light-coloured angular shape on the left half of the image looks to her like a glitch in the space time continuum. We more sober souls know it’s more likely to be yet another a skyscraper plated in reflective glass.

Word of the day

Glitch is the word of the day. This worm is surprised to learn that it’s a relatively new term, originating among space scientists in the 1960s. The word glitch first meant a sudden surge in current, which often was the cause of a malfunction. Later the word’s meaning broadened to mean a short-lived fault that’s difficult to track down.

The book I’m in

The Hunter’s Oath, by Jason Dean. Yes, I’m still stuck in the same book as I was in the previous two posts. It’s a good read, featuring action hero James Bishop. The hero is a little like Jack Reacher, only meaner.

That’s all for today, folks.

Distinctive motorcycle repair shop in Seattle

This is the blog of Mark Wordsworm, the travelling worm. I’m a 25-year-old bookmark (I haven’t aged at all since I first wrote this introduction) 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

This atmospheric motorcycle repair shop is on Aurora Ave N in Fremont, Seattle:

Click on the picture to zoom in, and take a look all the bikes and flags behind the windows.

The business is Vallantine Motor Works. This worm likes the combination of gothic styling and beautiful machines. It quite makes me want to wander in and see what’s going on.

The book I’m in

The Hunter’s Oath, by Jason Dean. A good, fast read with action hero James Bishop. The hero is a little like Jack Reacher, only meaner.

That’s all for today, folks.

Mt Rainier view from Fremont

This is the blog of Mark Wordsworm, the travelling worm. I’m a 25-year-old bookmark (I haven’t aged at all since I first wrote this introduction) 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

The TC, bless her cotton socks, has visited Seattle a few times, but without seeing the renowned Mt Rainier. Friends and colleagues assured her it was a spectacular sight, but often hidden by cloud.

On this visit, suddenly, there it was. As if someone had dropped a great big mountain out of the sky.

Here’s Mt Rainier, seen from the bridge on Aurora Ave N in Fremont, Seattle:

The Fremont Troll lurks under the same bridge. I posted a couple of pictures of the troll and the underneath of the bridge.

Mt Rainer lies 87 kilometres south east of Seattle. It’s an active volcano. Although it’s currently dormant, it’s considered one of the 16 most dangerous in the world because of the large amount of damage an eruption would cause to living creatures and property.

Word of the day

On-premise is the word of the day, used in phrases like “on-premise software/services,” to compare such services with those in the cloud. “On-premise” is a malapropism for “on-premises”. The question is whether the malapropism is now in sufficient common use for us to start using it without feeling uncomfortable. The TC, bless her cotton socks, still feels uncomfortable with such use of “on premise” or “on-premise”.

Here’s what the TC says:

I first read the term “on-premise software” about 5 years ago. I was completely flummoxed. “What? Is this software that’s offered under the assumption I’ve accepted some premise or other? Where’s that premise written?” Now, 5 years is a long time in the tech world, but perhaps not outside our industry. As a tech writer, I want to avoid giving people that unpleasant brain-bump of “that breaks my language parser”. What’s the harm in getting it right, and saying “on premises”? I guess someone else’s answer may be: the docs sound old and fuddy-duddy.

The book I’m in

The Hunter’s Oath, by Jason Dean. A good, fast read with action hero James Bishop. The hero is a little like Jack Reacher, only meaner.

That’s all for today, folks.

Harlequin bugs on NSW Central Coast

This is the blog of Mark Wordsworm, the travelling worm. I’m a 25-year-old bookmark (I haven’t aged at all since I first wrote this introduction) 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 on the Central Coast of New South Wales, Australia. This was a while ago. Now I’m on another trip to somewhere else, and thus finding the time to publish some words.

My impressions? Restful prettiness with enough history and natural beauty to occupy the mind.

Word of the day

Bug is the word of the day.  According to the Australian Museum, bugs and beetles are different groups of creatures. They have different mouthparts (beetles chew, bugs don’t),  different lifecycles (beetles undergo a complete metamorphosis from larval stage, bugs don’t), different food choices (beetles eat solids, bugs don’t), and different wings (beetles have two pairs, bugs don’t).

This worm concludes there’s a lot that beetles do and bugs don’t. Never mind, the bugs in this post are pretty. At least they have that going for them.

Travel tip

Look before you sit. The colourful bugs pictured below were roaming around on a park bench. A careless sitter would have squished them.

The book I’m in

Infinity Born, by Douglas E. Richards. Artificial intelligence runs wild in this action-packed, thought-provoking book.

The photos

Me and the rising sun, at the window of the Crowne Plaza hotel in Terrigal:

These two bugs roamed around a park bench. Luckily the TC spotted them before sitting down. I think they’re Hibiscus Harlequin Bugs. Almost as attractive as your faithful bookworm!

The bugs are reasonably large, certainly much bigger than a ladybird. For scale, the TC put her finger next to them on the park bench:

Methinks they’re in love, or one of them is. Play the video to see how one follows the other, occasionally bumping into it by mistake or perhaps on purpose:

Now for a complete change of subject, just because I can. Contrary to appearances, this is not a monster’s gullet. It’s a hollow tree trunk:

That’s all for today, folks.

Troll encounter in Fremont, Seattle

The TC caught this troll by surprise as it emerged from its den under the Aurora bridge in Fremont, Seattle.

I think the troll caught the TC by surprise too, but she had enough composure to snap the picture of the troll, and to turn her back on it to snap the view of the bridge from underneath.

That’s all for today, folks.

Imposing and peaceful Tintern Abbey, Wales

This is the blog of Mark Wordsworm, the travelling worm. I’m a 25-year-old bookmark (I haven’t aged at all since I first wrote this introduction) 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 travelled from Bristol to the Wye Valley in Wales to see Tintern Abbey, on the recommendation of a coffee vendor we met at the Clifton Suspension Bridge.

My impressions? The mix of fallen and still-standing walls is strangely effective in conveying the grandeur and peace of the place.

Word of the day

Abbey is the word of the day. The word stems from the same root as the Aramaic אבא (‘abbā), the Hindi abbā, and the Arabic ab, all of which mean “father”. An abbey is where the abbot lives, the abbot being the head of a group of monks. ABBA is also the name of a rather well known Swedish pop group. The group’s name is formed from the first letters of the singers’ names.

Travel tip

Pay heed to coffee vendors and other wise folks.

The book I’m in

Alaskan Fire, by Sara King. A good read, although slightly less sophisticated than this author’s other works.

The photos

Me taking in the sights from a window at Tintern Abbey:

The Welsh name for the abbey is Abaty Tyndyrn. The tourist brochure says Tintern Abbey is Wales’s best-preserved abbey. In Welsh, that’s “Yr Abaty sydd yn y cyflwr gorau yng Nghymru”:

Play this video to hear the sounds of Tintern Abbey:

The first buildings that formed the abbey were built in 1130s. Most of the original structure has disappeared, and what we see now was built in the 400-year period leading up to 1536. Then King Henry VIII passed a number of laws that put a stop to monasteries and the monastic life in England, Ireland, and Wales. The abbey fell to ruin:

Flowers and poetry grow from its walls:

Symmetry and sky greet you as you enter:

The pantry has an imposing ceiling:

Do not climb on the walls, written in English and Welsh:

This worm has noticed that the plumbing is often a high point in ruins. The abbey is no exception – the drainage system is lauded in the tourist information:

Me and Peg checked out the bathing facilities:

The view of the hills probably hasn’t changed much in the 850+ years since the abbey was built:

Farewell gracious abbey:

That’s all for today, folks.

Clifton Suspension Bridge thrice crossed

This is the blog of Mark Wordsworm, the travelling worm. I’m a 25-year-old bookmark (I haven’t aged at all since I first wrote this introduction) 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 crossed the Clifton Suspension Bridge in three ways yesterday. We strolled across it, drove over it, and drove under it. The bridge spans the River Avon near Bristol, UK, and offers heart-stopping views of the city and the river.

My impressions? An impressive work of engineering, surrounded by beauty.

Word of the day

Suspense is the word of the day. Dangling from a suspension bridge makes for a suspenseful day’s work.

Travel tip

If you’re driving, stop the car well short of the bridge and stroll down for a leisurely look.

Recommended coffee cart

A friendly, knowledgeable person offered us a cup of Union Direct Trade coffee and a chat at the Bristol end of the bridge. He’s fun to talk to, and the coffee is good.

The book I’m in

The Visitor, by Lee Child. I’m still munching my way through the same book as in my previous few posts. A good Lee Child is a good place to be.

The photos

Me snuggling up to one of the 3,500 load-bearing bolts that hold the Clifton Suspension Bridge together:

This worm does not envy these workers dangling from a maintenance cage under the bridge, more than 245 feet above the river:

On one side of the bridge is a view of the River Avon with the city of Bristol in the distance:

On the other side of the bridge, the river stretches out its muddy banks:

A sobering sign hints of people less happy than we:

Crossing the bridge:

Flowers of the Bristol onion decorate the bridge’s sides:

The Clifton Suspension Bridge spand 702 feet and weighs 1,500 tonnes. The chains that support the bridge stretch 20 miles underground. Here’s a parting shot from the road below the bridge:

That’s all for today, folks.

In search of the Grim Reaper

This is the blog of Mark Wordsworm, the travelling worm. I’m a 25-year-old bookmark (I haven’t aged at all since I first wrote this introduction) 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 found ourselves in Bristol and went in search of the Grim Reaper by Banksy. This is the tale of our quest from the Thekla to Spike Island in search of the artwork.

My impressions? A vibrant, thoughtful area of Bristol.

Word of the day

Graffito is the word of the day. It’s the little-known singular form of graffiti, and comes from the Italian word graffiato, meaning scratched. In the most common usage, graffiti are words, signs, drawings, or paintings that someone has put on a wall without permission. In art history, graffiti are works of art produced by scratching the surface. Another meaning of graffito is a deliberate mark or sign, such as a mason’s mark.

Travel tip

A good quest is a fine excuse to explore your surrounds.

The book I’m in

The Visitor, by Lee Child. I’m still munching my way through the same book as in my previous two posts. A good Lee Child is a good place to be.

The photos

Me at the Thekla. I’d heard Banksy’s Grim Reaper was on the Thekla, so that’s where I started my quest:

At the start of the quest I didn’t know what a “Thekla” was. Then I found the boat. Next, look for the painting. I examined the river walls, the sides of the boat, the nearby buildings. No Grim Reaper.

However, I did come across this striking picture on a window near Welsh Back:

Here’s a closer look. This worm thinks it’s an impressive work of art:

Still, not a Banksy. A quick internet search yielded the vital clue. Banksy’s Grim Reaper had indeed originally been painted on the Thekla in 2003, but it was moved to the M Shed, a nearby museum, in 2015. The water and weather had damaged the work of art, and the owners were afraid it would disappear entirely. They cut out the piece of the boat that contained the Grim Reaper, and presented it to the M Shed as a long-term loan.

So, off to the M Shed we go. First, a pretty view across the River Avon:

The TC found this no-nonsense sign post amusing, particularly as the bridge does indeed present itself as a “weak bridge”:

Wend your way past the evidence of a good night out:

And there’s the M Shed:

Inside, the Grim Reaper at last:

This worm does find it a little ironic that a stencilled graffito, surely expected to be temporary, should be behind glass and locked doors. On the other hand, I’m very glad that I managed to see this work, and that other people will be able to find it too.

That’s all for today, folks.