Bush-walking in the rain

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

Today’s travel notes

The TC is mad. Not raving, just quietly but significantly bananas. This is by now a well-established fact. Nevertheless it bears repeating. In particular, if she invites you out on a walk and says the clouds mean nothing, don’t believe her!

Last week she went walking in the Manly Dam reserve in a rain storm.

My impressions? I do concede that the TC is right when she says the Ozzie bush is beautiful in the rain.

Travel tip

Don’t wear shoes that matter to you. When it rains in the Australian bush, you’ll be up to your ankles in fast-flowing mud within five minutes.

The book I’m in

Blindman’s Bluff, by Faye Kellerman. I’ve moved on a few pages since yesterday. I’m still near enough the middle of the book to feel secure, but it’s getting close to the time when I start worrying that the thickness of pages left is not enough to prevent me warping.

The photos

Me in the Sydney wet. I tend to go to pieces in a storm, and my famous blue raincoat is torn at the shoulder. Luckily I had another effective, if less stylish, waterproof covering with me:

Picture this: It’s pouring with rain, all sensible souls are playing couch potato couch potato, but there’s the TC setting off into the bush with her purple umbrella unfurled:

It’s not long before she starts ooh-ing and aah-ing at the sights she beholds. The only camera at hand is her iPhone, but she is not deterred. Every photo in this blog post was taken on the iPhone:

“Ooh,” coos the TC, “the fairies have strung up their party lights behind an Old Man Banksia”:

Raindrops dangle:

If you look carefully, you’ll see the spider lurking in the leaf on his rain-spangled web:

Don’t expect to stay dry even if it’s not actually raining. Dripping branches bar your way:

Rivulets of water make swirling patterns in the sand, echoing the patterns in the rock:

Here’s a vista with a rain-lit bush in the foreground:

A grass tree in the wet. People also call these plants blackboys or Xanthorrhoea:

Raindrops perched on the flower of an Old Man Banksia:

A path full of puddles mirroring the trees, with the TC’s somewhat inelegant and extremely sodden foot at bottom right:

Two mini waterfalls where there’s usually just dry rock:

The “bleeding” gum trees look even more bloody and gruesome when they’re wet:

More droplets sprinkled on leaves and flowers:

This is the waterfall in the Manly Dam reserve, in full spate after recent heavy rainfall. The TC took this photo today, a week after all the others:

That’s all for today dudes.

Red-flowered tree in Sydney

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

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

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

Today’s travel notes

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

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

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

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

Traveller’s tip

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

The book I’m in

Poltergeist, by Kat Richardson.

The photos

Me and Peg out on a limb with Blue:

Me and Peg out on a limb with Blue

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

Hand skulking around in the undergrowth

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

Can you identify this red-flowered tree?

The whole tree:

Can you identify this red-flowered tree?

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

Hand lurking amongst the litter

Sydney winter flora seen from down under

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

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

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

Today’s travel notes

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

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

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

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

Traveller’s tip

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

The book I’m in

Dead Famous, by Ben Elton.

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

The photos

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

Sydney winter flora

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

The least flattering end of a bee:

Sydney winter flora

Another bee derriere:

Sydney winter flora

The underside of Old Man Banksia:

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

Sydney winter flora

Some cone clones:

Sydney winter flora

A spray of grass:

Sydney winter flora

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

Sydney winter flora

Another distressingly pretty flower seen from down under:

Sydney winter flora

And here’s the last bottoms-up flower:

Sydney winter flora

Oh dear…

Sydney winter flora seen from down under

That’s all for today dudes.