If it's Saturday afternoon this must be Buachaille Etive Mor
I've got a vague childhood recollection of a film called "If it's Tuesday, this must be Belgium." I think the film centred on a group of our friends from across the Atlantic visiting Europe and only sometimes knowing where they were by matching the day of the week to the itinerary. It was a long time ago. I might have got that wrong.
Trying to remember the moment when we stood here in the middle of three days of fun packed photography capers armed with a list of essential locations feels a little bit like that. When I downloaded the RAW files I grouped them by location and numbered them in sub-folders. If that sounds a bit alarming, please bear in mind that I'm an accountant who needs to bring logic to the world; You can't help this sort of behaviour when it's in your DNA. Of the 16 folders on my backup drive, numbers 2, 3, 4, 8 and 12 have Buachaille Etive Mor in the title. Of those, 3, 8 and 12 were all from the same vantage point. This one came from group number 8, between the Pap of Glencoe and Blackrock Cottage, which I always struggle to do justice to. I'd completely ignored it until just recently. Not being able to go anywhere does at least force you to reflect on your unloved children I suppose.
I'm not sure why I'd overlooked this shot either. I rather like the way the strong light blasts in from the left hand side, and I also quite enjoy the way in which the top half of the image contrasts with the bottom. The subject itself is familiar to so many of us of course. It must be the most photographed mountain in Scotland, probably the British Isles in fact by some distance. I've never been here and had the place to myself. In fact the following morning before sunrise there were at least 15 of us rubbing elbows in the icy dawn. And I suppose that in itself is a reason why I'm always a little reticent about posting photos of this composition. We've all seen it, many of us have photographed it, and maybe I should just go and stand somewhere else next time.
At least I had my wellies. You need wellies for a place like this. Standing in eight inches of water feels very liberating when the other 14 people around you haven't brought theirs with them. Amazing what goes in your hold luggage sometimes.
Keep smiling Flickr friends. Times are hard, but at least we can still keep sharing moments like these.
If it's Saturday afternoon this must be Buachaille Etive Mor
I've got a vague childhood recollection of a film called "If it's Tuesday, this must be Belgium." I think the film centred on a group of our friends from across the Atlantic visiting Europe and only sometimes knowing where they were by matching the day of the week to the itinerary. It was a long time ago. I might have got that wrong.
Trying to remember the moment when we stood here in the middle of three days of fun packed photography capers armed with a list of essential locations feels a little bit like that. When I downloaded the RAW files I grouped them by location and numbered them in sub-folders. If that sounds a bit alarming, please bear in mind that I'm an accountant who needs to bring logic to the world; You can't help this sort of behaviour when it's in your DNA. Of the 16 folders on my backup drive, numbers 2, 3, 4, 8 and 12 have Buachaille Etive Mor in the title. Of those, 3, 8 and 12 were all from the same vantage point. This one came from group number 8, between the Pap of Glencoe and Blackrock Cottage, which I always struggle to do justice to. I'd completely ignored it until just recently. Not being able to go anywhere does at least force you to reflect on your unloved children I suppose.
I'm not sure why I'd overlooked this shot either. I rather like the way the strong light blasts in from the left hand side, and I also quite enjoy the way in which the top half of the image contrasts with the bottom. The subject itself is familiar to so many of us of course. It must be the most photographed mountain in Scotland, probably the British Isles in fact by some distance. I've never been here and had the place to myself. In fact the following morning before sunrise there were at least 15 of us rubbing elbows in the icy dawn. And I suppose that in itself is a reason why I'm always a little reticent about posting photos of this composition. We've all seen it, many of us have photographed it, and maybe I should just go and stand somewhere else next time.
At least I had my wellies. You need wellies for a place like this. Standing in eight inches of water feels very liberating when the other 14 people around you haven't brought theirs with them. Amazing what goes in your hold luggage sometimes.
Keep smiling Flickr friends. Times are hard, but at least we can still keep sharing moments like these.