View allAll Photos Tagged CONFIDENT
Sportivo! - L'aperitivo dello sport
11 marzo 2016
Caffé Letterario - Roma
Organizzato da Gruppo Pesce Roma e Libera Rugby Club
To describe me and who I am as a person could be done in many words. Some of these words could be adventurous, outgoing, funny, nice, caring, trustworthy, confident, and many more. To me my work is not boring at all. There may be a few here or there that are boring depending on the project but I like to have fun and laugh a lot so I try to make my photos seem lively and joyous. I have two cats, and I love them to death. I live in Westlake with my little sister, mom, and step dad. I love hanging out with my friends and doing fun activities. All of my characteristics and qualities relate to my photography because it is evident that in all of my pictures I take that there is something about them that I incorporate that relates to me and who I am.
My philosophy throughout this semester would be showing yourself and not being afraid of what the outcome is. Take some risks and don’t be afraid to be bold. This philosophy relates to me and my personality of being extroverted. The process of this project is going to take some time. To plan to set aside special time dedicated to working on it so I can do it superbly and efficiently. I have some ideas in my head for what I want to do for my photos that reflect me and can show off my different talents. My ideas come out of nowhere. I am a spontaneous type of person so things just come to my mind.
Throughout my time spent in digital photography I have learned various element to a photo that make it a good one. For my self-portrait photos I am incorporating almost everything I have learned and combining it with my personality. In my traditional photo it relates to my personality one hundred percent. I am sitting at chipotle with friends laughing and eating having a good time which is totally me. It shows me in full action with my school uniform on and everything. It also relates to my philosophy because I took so many pictures from all different angles and wasn’t afraid to take chances especially with everyone at the restaurant staring at me. My alter-ego photo is of me dressed in dark clothes with dark makeup on alone and secluded from people cold and looking sad and depressed. It is the total opposite of me which is what an alter ego can be in my opinion. It relates to my philosophy because I was trying different things and not knowing what the outcome would be but taking that risk of once again having people stare at me and not knowing what I was going to get as an end result.
Last autumn, we felt confident enough to start arranging things in the new year. One of these was a show by Chinese acrobats that Jools wanted to see. She got Jen, Sylv and a friend to go. And yesterday was the day of the show. I made it clear it wasn't for me, but I would go up to rephotograph some City churches and we would meet up afterwards for a meal before coming home.
When we arrange things, we don't know what slings and arrows fate might throw at us. In Tuesday's case, it was a Tube drivers strike, and no last minute talks fixed that. I could arrange my trip to avoind using public transport other than the train up and back home, which were unaffected. Jools thought they would be OK, as their tickets were for the Odeon, which she thought was in Leicester Square, but it turned out was the old Hammersmith Apollo. Now, usually this would not have been a problem, but on Tuesday it was.
They arranged to leave an hour earlier than planned and try to get a taxi, which they did after waiting in line for an hour, getting to the theatre just half an hour before showtime, leaving them only time to get a snack.
Their journey up was done outside rush hour, the show ened at five, and they had to get back to St Pancras. Which would prove to be an adventure.
For me, however, it was a walk in the park. And to add to the pleasure of the day, I would meet up with my good friend, Simon, owner of the Churches of East Anglia website, just about every word and picture done by his own hand. His website also covers the City of LOndon churches, so I asked if he wanted to meet up; he did, so a plan was hatched to meet and visit a few churches, one of which, King Edmund, he had not been inside. He wouldn't arrive until jsut after ten to get the offpeak ticket prices, I would get up early as a couple of the churches would be open before nine.
A plan was made, and I had a list of chuches and a rough order in which to visit them.
The alarm went off at five, and we were both up. I having a coffee after getting dressed and Jools was to drop me off at the station, and as we drove in the heavy fog that had settled, I realised there was a direct train to Cannon Street just after seven, could I make it to avoid a half hour layover at Ashford?
Yes I could.
Jools dropped me off outside Priory station, I went in and got my ticket, and was on the train settled into a forward facing seat with three whole minutes to spare.
The train rattled it's way out of the station and through the tunnel under Western Heights, outside it was still dark. So I put my mask on and rested my eyes as we went through Folkestone to Ashford, an towards Pluckley, Headcorn, Marden to Tonbridge, Sevenoaks and so onto south east London. The train filled up slowly, until we got to Tonbridge which left few seats remaining, and at Sevenoaks, it was standing room only, but by then its a twenty minute run to London Bridge.
After leaving London Bridge station, the train took the sharp turn above Borough Market and over the river into Cannon Street. I was in no hurry, so enoyed the peace and space of an empty carriage before making my way off the train then along the platform and out onto the street in front. A heavy drizzle was falling, so I decided to get some breakfast and another coffee. Just up Walbrook there was an independent sandwich place, so I went in and asked what I wanted: faced with dozens of choices, all made to order, I had no idea.
I decided on a simple sausage sandwich and a coffee and watched people hurrying to work outside. I had all the time I wanted.
I check my phone and find that opening times were a little different, but St Mary Aldermary was open from half eight, so I check the directions and head there.
It was open, mainly because there is a small cafe inside. I ask if I could go in, they say yes, so I snap it well with the 50mm lens fitted, and decide that something sweet was called for. They recommended the carrot cake, so I had a slice of that and a pot of breakfast tea sitting and admiring the details of the church. Once I had finished, I put on the wide angle lens and finished the job.
Just up the lane outside was St Mary-le-Bow, which should also be open.
It was. Also because they had a cafe. I skipped another brew, and photographed that too, and saw that the crypt was open too, so went down the steps to that. Simon tells me that the church got it's name because of the brick arched crypt: bowed roof.
A five minute walk past The Bank of England was St Mary Woolnorth and St Mary Abchurch: both open, and both recorded by my camera and keen eye.
It was now near to ten, so I texted Simon to let him know to meet me at St Edmund, and I set off in the wrong direction. I only realised this when I was the other side of The Bank, so checked my map and retraced my steps and went down Lombard Street.
The rain was still falling gently, and I was damp, so found shelter under a balcony, as the church was not unlocked. The smell of tale piss rose from the pavement, it wasn't pleasant.
Simon arrived, we shook hands and reviewed the plans, and with it being nearly half ten, thought we would give Stephen Walbrook another go. And wonder of wonders, it was open! The church has been reordered, which isn't to everyone's taste, but the doughnut in the centre can be removed if needed, and Wren's church is still there, including the wonderful painted ceiling.
-------------------------------------------
It's always a bit of a surprise to find that in so many of the City churches you can spend half an hour or so and be on your own. This isn't true of St Stephen Walbrook, which is something of a mecca for all sorts of interests. The unprepossessing exterior belies what many consider to be Wren's most fiendishly clever interior, and then there is the added controversy of what has happened to it since.
An 11th Century foundation, though rebuilt in the 15th Century on a slightly different site on the other side of the Walbrook. Destroyed in the Great Fire, the Wren workshop rebuilt it 1672-80. Unlike the jolly churchwardens at St Nicholas Cole Abbey, who entertained Wren with dinners and drinks to make their church a priority, the churchwardens here demanded Wren's best work, and rewarded him handsomely with the promise of a personal gift of twenty guineas in a silk purse. That's about five thousand pounds in today's money - not much to a rich man like Wren, perhaps, but it was on top of what he earned for the work, and in any case it seems to have done the trick.
Wayland Young notes that the church is admired by foreigners for a logic rare in English architecture, and by Londoners for the quaintness of a building so dull outside having such lightness and beauty within. The proportions are exquisitely correct, music in stone, with a long view down to the east for all the fact that this is a series of intersecting cubes. Wren's pews were removed in the 19th Century, which only added to the mathematical delight. Many of the craftsmen here would also work on Wren's St Paul's Cathedral.
These days the exterior is rather more exposed than it ever has been since Wren's day. Shops clustered around it, and the main entrance at the west faced into a narrow passage. Now, a vast building site stretches to the west of the church, soon to be filled by some glass and concrete lump, no doubt. The old setting must have accentuated the surprise on entering, to find it so full of rational light. In Wren's day, people must have come in here and thought they were seeing the future.
But the future has caught up with St Stephen Walbrook. Blast damage from the Blitz was repaired, and glass by the great Keith New was installed in the early 1960s. But the church was suffering subsidence, and by the 1970s it was in danger of collapse. So came the controversial reordering under the hands of Lord Palumbo. The church was cleared of all clutter, the 19th Century mosaic floor was removed (indeed, the floor of the church was completely rebuilt), Keith New's glass was sent into exile at Norwich Cathedral, and instead of the previous long vista from the west towards the reredos, a huge central altar, the work of Henry Moore, was plonked down under the dome. It looks pleasingly like a vast, ripe Camembert cheese. But of course this completely changes Wren's intended perspective, hence the controversy. There is no doubting the quality of Moore's altar - it is, after all, what many people come to see - or the quality of the restoration as a whole.But perhaps these disagreements are good things, because they show how much buildings like this still really matter to people in the early decades of the 21st Century.
St Stephen Walbrook has a good collection of memorials from the late 17th Century onwards, many of which you can see below. The best is probably that to John Lilburne, Citizen and Grocer, who died in 1678. His Latin inscription tells us that he was of the ancient family of Lilburne in Sunderland in the Diocese of Durham, and that by his wife Isabel his eldest son was George, hoc posuit monumentum, who 'placed this memorial'. John and Isabel stand either side of the inscription in the fashionable clothes of the time, while up above a skeleton dances with a buxom woman behind a garland held by two cherubs. A memorable memorial.
This church will be known by many people as the birthplace of the Samaritans, the charity set up to provide emotional support to anyone struggling to cope, or at risk of suicide. Chad Varah, the vicar of St Stephen Walbrook, had been profoundly moved when taking the funeral of a 14 year old girl who had killed herself in his previous parish, and after moving here in 1953 he dedicated a telephone line in his study that would be open to anyone who wanted to talk. The number, Mansion House 9000, soon became widely known, and within ten years there were branches of the Samaritans all over England. The name was not chosen by Varah, but rather became common usage after a newspaper headline about the service refered to it as such. The telephone that provided the original service is on display inside the church.
Simon Knott, March 2022
Last autumn, we felt confident enough to start arranging things in the new year. One of these was a show by Chinese acrobats that Jools wanted to see. She got Jen, Sylv and a friend to go. And yesterday was the day of the show. I made it clear it wasn't for me, but I would go up to rephotograph some City churches and we would meet up afterwards for a meal before coming home.
When we arrange things, we don't know what slings and arrows fate might throw at us. In Tuesday's case, it was a Tube drivers strike, and no last minute talks fixed that. I could arrange my trip to avoind using public transport other than the train up and back home, which were unaffected. Jools thought they would be OK, as their tickets were for the Odeon, which she thought was in Leicester Square, but it turned out was the old Hammersmith Apollo. Now, usually this would not have been a problem, but on Tuesday it was.
They arranged to leave an hour earlier than planned and try to get a taxi, which they did after waiting in line for an hour, getting to the theatre just half an hour before showtime, leaving them only time to get a snack.
Their journey up was done outside rush hour, the show ened at five, and they had to get back to St Pancras. Which would prove to be an adventure.
For me, however, it was a walk in the park. And to add to the pleasure of the day, I would meet up with my good friend, Simon, owner of the Churches of East Anglia website, just about every word and picture done by his own hand. His website also covers the City of LOndon churches, so I asked if he wanted to meet up; he did, so a plan was hatched to meet and visit a few churches, one of which, King Edmund, he had not been inside. He wouldn't arrive until jsut after ten to get the offpeak ticket prices, I would get up early as a couple of the churches would be open before nine.
A plan was made, and I had a list of chuches and a rough order in which to visit them.
The alarm went off at five, and we were both up. I having a coffee after getting dressed and Jools was to drop me off at the station, and as we drove in the heavy fog that had settled, I realised there was a direct train to Cannon Street just after seven, could I make it to avoid a half hour layover at Ashford?
Yes I could.
Jools dropped me off outside Priory station, I went in and got my ticket, and was on the train settled into a forward facing seat with three whole minutes to spare.
The train rattled it's way out of the station and through the tunnel under Western Heights, outside it was still dark. So I put my mask on and rested my eyes as we went through Folkestone to Ashford, an towards Pluckley, Headcorn, Marden to Tonbridge, Sevenoaks and so onto south east London. The train filled up slowly, until we got to Tonbridge which left few seats remaining, and at Sevenoaks, it was standing room only, but by then its a twenty minute run to London Bridge.
After leaving London Bridge station, the train took the sharp turn above Borough Market and over the river into Cannon Street. I was in no hurry, so enoyed the peace and space of an empty carriage before making my way off the train then along the platform and out onto the street in front. A heavy drizzle was falling, so I decided to get some breakfast and another coffee. Just up Walbrook there was an independent sandwich place, so I went in and asked what I wanted: faced with dozens of choices, all made to order, I had no idea.
I decided on a simple sausage sandwich and a coffee and watched people hurrying to work outside. I had all the time I wanted.
I check my phone and find that opening times were a little different, but St Mary Aldermary was open from half eight, so I check the directions and head there.
It was open, mainly because there is a small cafe inside. I ask if I could go in, they say yes, so I snap it well with the 50mm lens fitted, and decide that something sweet was called for. They recommended the carrot cake, so I had a slice of that and a pot of breakfast tea sitting and admiring the details of the church. Once I had finished, I put on the wide angle lens and finished the job.
Just up the lane outside was St Mary-le-Bow, which should also be open.
It was. Also because they had a cafe. I skipped another brew, and photographed that too, and saw that the crypt was open too, so went down the steps to that. Simon tells me that the church got it's name because of the brick arched crypt: bowed roof.
A five minute walk past The Bank of England was St Mary Woolnorth and St Mary Abchurch: both open, and both recorded by my camera and keen eye.
It was now near to ten, so I texted Simon to let him know to meet me at St Edmund, and I set off in the wrong direction. I only realised this when I was the other side of The Bank, so checked my map and retraced my steps and went down Lombard Street.
The rain was still falling gently, and I was damp, so found shelter under a balcony, as the church was not unlocked. The smell of tale piss rose from the pavement, it wasn't pleasant.
Simon arrived, we shook hands and reviewed the plans, and with it being nearly half ten, thought we would give Stephen Walbrook another go. And wonder of wonders, it was open! The church has been reordered, which isn't to everyone's taste, but the doughnut in the centre can be removed if needed, and Wren's church is still there, including the wonderful painted ceiling.
-------------------------------------------
It's always a bit of a surprise to find that in so many of the City churches you can spend half an hour or so and be on your own. This isn't true of St Stephen Walbrook, which is something of a mecca for all sorts of interests. The unprepossessing exterior belies what many consider to be Wren's most fiendishly clever interior, and then there is the added controversy of what has happened to it since.
An 11th Century foundation, though rebuilt in the 15th Century on a slightly different site on the other side of the Walbrook. Destroyed in the Great Fire, the Wren workshop rebuilt it 1672-80. Unlike the jolly churchwardens at St Nicholas Cole Abbey, who entertained Wren with dinners and drinks to make their church a priority, the churchwardens here demanded Wren's best work, and rewarded him handsomely with the promise of a personal gift of twenty guineas in a silk purse. That's about five thousand pounds in today's money - not much to a rich man like Wren, perhaps, but it was on top of what he earned for the work, and in any case it seems to have done the trick.
Wayland Young notes that the church is admired by foreigners for a logic rare in English architecture, and by Londoners for the quaintness of a building so dull outside having such lightness and beauty within. The proportions are exquisitely correct, music in stone, with a long view down to the east for all the fact that this is a series of intersecting cubes. Wren's pews were removed in the 19th Century, which only added to the mathematical delight. Many of the craftsmen here would also work on Wren's St Paul's Cathedral.
These days the exterior is rather more exposed than it ever has been since Wren's day. Shops clustered around it, and the main entrance at the west faced into a narrow passage. Now, a vast building site stretches to the west of the church, soon to be filled by some glass and concrete lump, no doubt. The old setting must have accentuated the surprise on entering, to find it so full of rational light. In Wren's day, people must have come in here and thought they were seeing the future.
But the future has caught up with St Stephen Walbrook. Blast damage from the Blitz was repaired, and glass by the great Keith New was installed in the early 1960s. But the church was suffering subsidence, and by the 1970s it was in danger of collapse. So came the controversial reordering under the hands of Lord Palumbo. The church was cleared of all clutter, the 19th Century mosaic floor was removed (indeed, the floor of the church was completely rebuilt), Keith New's glass was sent into exile at Norwich Cathedral, and instead of the previous long vista from the west towards the reredos, a huge central altar, the work of Henry Moore, was plonked down under the dome. It looks pleasingly like a vast, ripe Camembert cheese. But of course this completely changes Wren's intended perspective, hence the controversy. There is no doubting the quality of Moore's altar - it is, after all, what many people come to see - or the quality of the restoration as a whole.But perhaps these disagreements are good things, because they show how much buildings like this still really matter to people in the early decades of the 21st Century.
St Stephen Walbrook has a good collection of memorials from the late 17th Century onwards, many of which you can see below. The best is probably that to John Lilburne, Citizen and Grocer, who died in 1678. His Latin inscription tells us that he was of the ancient family of Lilburne in Sunderland in the Diocese of Durham, and that by his wife Isabel his eldest son was George, hoc posuit monumentum, who 'placed this memorial'. John and Isabel stand either side of the inscription in the fashionable clothes of the time, while up above a skeleton dances with a buxom woman behind a garland held by two cherubs. A memorable memorial.
This church will be known by many people as the birthplace of the Samaritans, the charity set up to provide emotional support to anyone struggling to cope, or at risk of suicide. Chad Varah, the vicar of St Stephen Walbrook, had been profoundly moved when taking the funeral of a 14 year old girl who had killed herself in his previous parish, and after moving here in 1953 he dedicated a telephone line in his study that would be open to anyone who wanted to talk. The number, Mansion House 9000, soon became widely known, and within ten years there were branches of the Samaritans all over England. The name was not chosen by Varah, but rather became common usage after a newspaper headline about the service refered to it as such. The telephone that provided the original service is on display inside the church.
Simon Knott, March 2022
Plaça de Vicenç Martorell al barri del Raval (Barcelona - Catalunya)
♫♪♫ At seventeen - Janis Ian ♫♪♫
A man laughing and happy.
As a reminder, keep in mind that this picture is available only for non-commercial use and that visible attribution is required. If you'd like to use this photo outside these terms, please contact me ahead of time to arrange for a paid license.
Some of you may have noticed that, unfortunately, owing to the fact that a certain person who sells truck photos on eBay commercially has been lifting my images from this album and selling them I have had to remove 2300 photos that didn't have a watermark. I have now run around 1700 through Lightroom and added a watermark with the intention of bulk uploading them again. Rather than watermark the existing (hidden) files in Flickr one at a time it will be easier to do it this way. I definitely won’t be adding individual tags with the make and model of each vehicle I will just add generic transport tags. Each photo is named after the vehicle and reg in any case. For anyone new to these images there is a chapter and verse explanation below. It is staggering how many times I get asked questions that a quick scan would answer or just as likely I can’t possibly answer – I didn’t take them, but, just to clarify-I do own the copyright- and I do pursue copyright theft.
This is a collection of scanned prints from a collection of photographs taken by the late Jim Taylor A number of years ago I was offered a large number of photographs taken by Jim Taylor, a transport photographer based in Huddersfield. The collection, 30,000 prints, 20,000 negatives – and copyright! – had been offered to me and one of the national transport magazines previously by a friend of Jim's, on behalf of Jim's wife. I initially turned them down, already having over 30,000 of my own prints filed away and taking space up. Several months later the prints were still for sale – at what was, apparently, the going rate. It was a lot of money and I deliberated for quite a while before deciding to buy them. I did however buy them directly from Jim’s wife and she delivered them personally – just to quash the occasional rumour from people who can’t mind their own business. Although some prints were sold elsewhere, particularly the popular big fleet stuff, I should have the negatives, unfortunately they came to me in a random mix, 1200 to a box, without any sort of indexing and as such it would be impossible to match negatives to prints, or, to even find a print of any particular vehicle. I have only ever looked at a handful myself unless I am scanning them. The prints are generally in excellent condition and I initially stored them in a bedroom without ever looking at any of them. In 2006 I built an extension and they had to be well protected from dust and moved a few times. Ultimately my former 6x7 box room office has become their (and my own work’s) permanent home.
I hope to avoid posting images that Jim had not taken his self, however should I inadvertently infringe another photographers copyright, please inform me by email and I will resolve the issue immediately. There are copyright issues with some of the photographs that were sold to me. A Flickr member from Scotland drew my attention to some of his own work amongst the first uploads of Jim’s work. I had a quick look through some of the 30 boxes of prints and decided that for the time being the safest thing for me to do was withdraw the majority of the earlier uploaded scans and deal with the problem – which I did. whilst the vast majority of the prints are Jims, there is a problem defining copyright of some of them, this is something that the seller did not make clear at the time. I am reasonably confident that I have since been successful in identifying Jims own work. His early work consists of many thousands of lustre 6x4 prints which are difficult to scan well, later work is almost entirely 7x5 glossy, much easier to scan. Not all of the prints are pin sharp but I can generally print successfully to A4 from a scan.
You may notice photographs being duplicated in this Album, unfortunately there are multiple copies of many prints (for swapping) and as I have to have a system of archiving and backing up I can only guess - using memory - if I have scanned a print before. The bigger fleets have so many similar vehicles and registration numbers that it is impossible to get it right all of the time. It is easier to scan and process a print than check my files - on three different PC’s - for duplicates. There has not been, nor will there ever be, any intention to knowingly breach anyone else's copyright. I have presented the Jim Taylor collection as exactly that-The Jim Taylor Collection- his work not mine, my own work is quite obviously mine.
Unfortunately, many truck spotters have swapped and traded their work without copyright marking it as theirs. These people never anticipated the ease with which images would be shared online in the future. I would guess that having swapped and traded photos for many years that it is almost impossible to control their future use. Anyone wanting to control the future use of their work would have been well advised to copyright mark their work (as many did) and would be well advised not to post them on photo sharing sites without a watermark as the whole point of these sites is to share the image, it is very easy for those that wish, to lift any image, despite security settings, indeed, Flickr itself, warns you that this is the case. It was this abuse and theft of my material that led me to watermark all of my later uploads. I may yet withdraw non-watermarked photos, I haven’t decided yet. (I did in the end)
To anyone reading the above it will be quite obvious that I can’t provide information regarding specific photos or potential future uploads – I didn’t take them! There are many vehicles that were well known to me as Jim only lived down the road from me (although I didn’t know him), however scanning, titling, tagging and uploading is laborious and time consuming enough, I do however provide a fair amount of information with my own transport (and other) photos. I am aware that there are requests from other Flickr users that are unanswered, I stumble across them months or years after they were posted, this isn’t deliberate. Some weekends one or two “enthusiasts” can add many hundreds of photos as favourites, this pushes requests that are in the comments section ten or twenty pages out of sight and I miss them. I also have notifications switched off, I receive around 50 emails a day through work and I don’t want even more from Flickr. Other requests, like many other things, I just plain forget – no excuses! Uploads of Jim’s photos will be infrequent as it is a boring pastime and I would much rather work on my own output.
A Girl And Some Tunes: The Girl With Dangerous Habits
A Place To Bury Strangers "I Know I'll See You"
www.youtube.com/watch?v=_EAIGOLdzv8
She is an occult detective. She was born with the power to see angels and demons. She has committed suicide at age 15 after being unable to cope with her visions. She was revived by paramedics but she has spent two minutes in Hell. She knows that because of her actions her soul is condemned to damnation when she dies. She has recently learned that she has developed cancer as a result of her smoking habit.
She knows she is the one soul Satan would come to Earth personally to collect. But she also knows that if she kills one particular demon, she can have a reprieve from death. So she came to this damned district to find this demon.
As soon as she arrives, she can't resist to light a cigarette.
The smoke fills her lungs and makes her more confident for this desperate battle.
She finishes her cigarette and her instinct tells her to go to an old abbey park in the district...
Another episode in the "A Girl And Some Tunes" series. This one is inspired by the famous Alan Moore's character John Constantine. Stay tuned there's more pics to come!
Model: Sabina
Strobe info:
One 580ex2 through a 22' Kacey beauty dish, on the right of the subject, at her height with an angle of 45°, placed very close to her face. And one 580ex2 with a blue gel hidden behind the subject. The two strobes were triggered with pocket wizards TT5.
But then this is always the case these days. Confidence is the cardinal rule. Daisy isn't allowed to show even the slightest sign of hesitation or uncertainty, no matter what situation I may thrust her into. And believe you me, I watch her like a hawk for any sign of these things. She can feel however she likes, but she'd better not show anything but supreme confidence. After all, she's representing Madame Tina out there. In fact, she is basically acting as an extension of me everywhere she goes...and she'd damn well better act as such! 💗
Not that collecting a receipt in a convenience store is any big deal now...but you know, once upon a time not long ago, this sort of thing would have been incredibly difficult for her. I used to have to remind her: "You are exactly where you are supposed to be, doing exactly what you are supposed to do, and you are dressed exactly the way you are supposed to be dressed. PERIOD! 😉
Smile from a friendly Sewing Service Vendor
Be the first to kick start your generous support and fund my production with more amazing images!
Currently, I'm running a crowd funding activity to initiate my personal 2016 Flickr's Project. Here, I sincerely request each and every kind hearted souls to pay some effort and attention.
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Basically, the substantial gather amount is achievable with pure passion n love heart in photography and not necessary be filty rich nor famous to help me accomplish raising my long yearning photography career, a sucking heavy expense that been schedules down my photography making journey had inevitably, some circumstances had badly fall short behind racing with time and inability to fulfill as quickly in near future consolidating good fund .
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Last but not least, a photography journey of life time for a trip to explore South Island of New Zealand and Africa.
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My intended schedule may estimate about 1 month round trip self drive traveling down scenic Southern Island of New Zealand for completing the most captivating landscape photography and wander into the big five, the wilderness of untamed Africa nature for my project 2016 before my physical body stamina eventually drain off.
During the course, I also welcome sponsor's to provide daily lodging/accommodation, car rental/transportation, Fox Glacier helicopter ride and other logistic funding expenses, provide photographic camera equipments or related accessories .
Kindly forward all sponsors request terms of condition n collaboration details for discussion soon.
Great Ocean Drive- the 12 Apostle's
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This portrait of Maria Elena, like the other similar one, seem almost to have been drawn. Does anybody know, were the photos manipulated in a way to make them look like sketches?
Back view of the sign of the fashion shop "Marius et Jeanette" in the Rue des Chapeliers (in English: "Street of the hatters") in the old town of Lannion, Brittany, France
Some background information:
I found this sign in the old town of Lannion and I like the fact that it has two different sides. The other side can be viewed in this picture: the girl.
With its more than 20,000 residents, Lannion is the administrative centre of the arrondissement of Lannion in the French department of Côtes-d'Armor in the very north of Brittany. The town is located on the bank of the Léguer river, just five kilometres (3.1 miles) away from the sea, where the river issues into.
Lannion harks back on a long history. Several megaliths in its surrounding bear witness to human habitation as early as in prehistoric times and so do many carved flints and stone axes, which were excavated. In April 2014, archaeologists found traces of three large wooden and mud-walled houses together with pottery fragments and wristbands, whose age was estimated at 7,000 years. Also excavated were the remnants of a round house from the Bronze Age, which was probably built around 1200 BC.
Coins and potsherds as well as two Gallic steles bear witness to habitation in Gallic times. In Gallo-Roman times, the spot of Lannion was situated at the road from Yaudet eastbound. The excavations of Gallo-Roman estates show that already then the area was used for agriculture.
In 1163, Lannion was first mentioned in a document. In a papal bull of pope Alexander III it is registered that the church Sancte Marie de Lannion is still not brought to completion. At about that time a castle was erected, whose purpose was to protect the settlement against invaders ascending the river. Between 1341 and 1364, the town was involved in the War of the Breton Succession.
In 1590, Lannion was heavily affected by events in the course of the French Wars of Religion. The whole area was a patchwork of Catholic and Huguenot parishes. After the nearby Huguenot parish of Plestin had been burned and devastated by the troops of the Catholic French King, the royalist town of Lannion overtook the same fate. In an act of revenge, Huguenot troops, who supported the Protestant Duke of Mercœur, burned and devastated it. Fortuntately in 1598, the wars were ended by the Edict of Nantes, which granted the Huguenots substantial rights and freedoms.
In the 16th century, Brélévenez and Lannion were the two most important parishes in the district. Competition raged between the two communes. After Brélévenez had built a spire on its church, Lannion built an even more beautiful and larger reproduction. 158 trees, 10,000 slates and 1,800 kg of metal were needed for its construction. It was installed on the tower of the church, and inaugurated in 1643. But after it had been struck by lightning in 1758, it threatened to collapse on the neighbouring houses. Hence, the Duke of Aiguillon, who was the appointed Commander-in-Chief of Brittany, gave the order to destroy it.
Until the French Revolution, Lannion belonged to the bishopric of Tréguier. However, to restrict the power of the bishop in Lannion, the French King constituted the town the place of jurisdiction for the whole area. After the Revolution, the port of Lannion thrived and so did the town. Even after Word War I, Lannion’s economic growth continued, but after World War II, stagnation coursed through and the community became just a drowsy rural town.
However, the situation took another turn for the better in the sixties, as in 1960, the National Telecommunications Centre was built there. To install it and to house the families of the technicians, Lannion needed significant land reserves. After a prefectural decree had sealed the merger of Lannion with the municipalities of Buhulien, Loguivy, Servel and Brélévenez, a number of other companies set up in business too, following the National Telecommunications Centre.
Today, Lannion is the administrative, commercial and cultural capital of the Trégor region, one of the nine historical provinces of Brittany. The town’s technology park champions cutting-edge technologies from companies like Alcatel and Orange. There are around one hundred high-tech enterprises and research centres and that’s why Lannion is sometimes even described as a French "mini Silicon Valley".
Cry in the Wilderness
By Arthur Broomhall
Late in 1969 the Broomhall family - a mom, dad, four kids, dog, with tent trailer and canoe, reacted to an advertisement in BC Outdoors about Alexis Lake. Always ready for another adventure in wilderness, what the ad promised appealed to all. It offered an image of a serviced campsite (ice available), three other lakes accessible to canoes by portage, good fly fishing, and, no outboard motors allowed! Having experienced, by that time, many summer holidays in the Cariboo, our family had already fallen in love with the remoteness and quiet of BC’s Central Interior. This ad triggered a desire for even more - next season – but in the unfamiliar Chilcotin Country!
In 1970 the main road west from Williams Lake, Highway 24, was not paved, except for the ‘Sheep Creek Hill’ up from the Fraser River Bridge to the Chilcotin plateau. This part of the road, with its many switchbacks, was on the northeast face of the hill, always thawing out more slowly in the spring than more sun-exposed parts. To correct the inevitable slumping that came with every spring thaw, the Highways Department put in culverts for drainage in the critical places and paved that stretch.
Otherwise the road west to Bella Coola was mostly gravel or hard mud. In some places the gravel was like very coarse river bottom, in others, deep ruts added to drivers’ misery. It was hard on ‘regular’ automobiles, especially those pulling trailers. This, we were often told by disparaging locals, was truck country! For us, driving those one hundred miles from Williams Lake was always a challenge, but arrival at serene and beautiful Alexis Lake was the ultimate reward.
What we found that first visit was not quite all the advertisement promised. In some respects it was even more. We were expecting wilderness, but the character of it was so much more pristine, unspoilt, with more wildlife than anything we experienced before. Although we were supplied with drinking water, we later found the lake water clean enough to drink. We learned the ad’s statement of ‘no motors’ was not backed up with regulations, but the absence of boat ramps made it virtually impossible for large boats with motors to be launched. And, as far as having ice for our food storage, it was not going to be available in subsequent seasons.
One could hear the silence, the animals, and the wind in the trees. The swimming and fishing was good. It was dry belt, and what rain came in summer was in heavy showers, with thunder and lightning. Exploring was always a bit spooky, because the odds were great that we would never encounter anyone else. This also meant that we expected to run into big game – deer and bears. We found the country so wide open, if one wandered off a known, marked trail, it was easy to get lost. Away from camp there were few natural boundaries or landmarks to indicate where ‘home’ might be. And, in that the climate in this high country could change very quickly from the sublime to harsh, it was a bush country to be respected.
Happy with that first adventure, it was an easy family decision to return again. Thoughts of doing more than ‘just camping’ came into our family discussions. We searched out a lakeshore property we wanted for our own. In 1971 there were, perhaps, ten properties with cabins on the east shore of the lake. We filed our papers with the government’s Land Branch for a lot we had selected, and were kept on tenterhooks while the approval process wound its way through the bureaucracy. Approval took a long time coming and finally came through late in 1972. The lease required a habitable cabin to be built upon the land within three years. Earlier, in the summer of that year, already confident that the property would be ours, we camped on it, tidied up, and staked out its four corners. By the end of the 1973 summer season, as we departed, our property was fenced to keep out the cattle and, within, was a sealed-up, but unfinished frame cabin.
In the twenty-eight years since (I write this in year 2001), as property owners, we have learned much about the land, climate, and vicissitudes of settling in wilderness. Our lake is near the summit of the Alexis Creek watershed. It is at about 3,500 ft. above sea level, enough to offer cool nights after the hottest of summer days. The surrounding land is mainly high plateau, with a few gently rounded peaks that extend upward another thousand feet or so. A few rocky, volcanic outcroppings dot the terrain here and there. In recent times, it has mainly been forested land, covered by scrubby, overcrowded pine trees, white spruces in wet areas, some aspens, and here and some small stands of ancient Douglas firs. Many areas have been opened up for cattle pastures and growing hay. Logging and free-range cattle ranching have been the region’s mainstay for about a century.
About 65 years ago, a rancher downstream sought and obtained a water license on Alexis Creek to allow for irrigation and other water use on the lower reaches. Included in the license was provision for a small earth-filled dam and valve at Alexis Lake’s outlet. Once the dam and control were in place the lake effectively became a reservoir for the ranch’s water requirements. If the creek were ever to dry up, the license permitted water to be drawn from the lake.
It has been said, apart from some testing, the water control system on the dam was never used. Apparently, the normal summer flow of water down the creek was always sufficient for the needs of the ranch. It is possible the existence of the dam evened out seasonal water fluctu-ations. In high water seasons, lake water rises between two to three feet higher than pre-dam levels. This has been enough to kill off many spruce trees in low spots. And, over the years the beaver population has always caused the lake levels to fluctuate even more. Their dam building activity at the lake outlet continues to be a nuisance.
In 1986, the water license was abandoned. Despite that license, people seeking waterfront property upstream before and after 1986 were granted (indeed, encouraged to obtain) leases (and in a few cases obtained land in fee simple) by government – all subject to that license. So when the water license ended, riparian rights in a sense transferred from the ranch, downstream, to upstream and lakeshore property holders. The latter, we, in effect, became the water’s stakeholders.
A wake-up call faced Alexis Lake property owners when liabilities for the dam structure and valve no longer were the responsibility of the ranch. The abandonment of the license conferred those liabilities somewhere, but where? Faced with repairing a deteriorating dam mainly because of the road access it provided to the east lakeshore properties, the government’s Highways Department suggested the dam be removed and be replaced by a bridge. It would, they said, be less costly than having to replace the old dam with a new one built to standards required by the Environment Department.
Faced with the uncertainties of cost, and how a reduced water level might affect the shoreline or, for that matter, property values, many, perhaps most, owners objected strenuously to the removal of the dam. Also having to face this conundrum, government eventually settled upon having the Highways Dept. patch up the old dam and punch through a culvert. We were assured this would preserve existing water levels. Surprisingly, this arrangement has worked – but it still leaves us wondering about the future!
By the mid 80’s, logging companies were well into clear-cutting the Chilcotin. In 1970 it did not occur to us that it was only a matter of time before their operations would catch up to the plateau 70 miles west of the Fraser River. The impact of the hundreds of loaded logging trucks we encountered on our drives in and out did not register upon us for quite a while. For the kids counting trucks became a game. But, ominously, the effects of the logging became visible. We were not mistaken any longer – large swaths of denuded hills were appearing everywhere.
Off the main road our climb up to the plateau was at first through thick forest, mostly Douglas Firs in the lower elevations, but further up this changed to pine forest. There were large grassy openings here and there - well populated by free ranging cattle. Around Alexis Lake most of the forest was of poor quality. Either very dense, the native pines were so crowded they stretched tall and thin, reaching for available light, or they were undernourished from poor soil – possibly both. Most took fifty years or more to grow less than 25 feet. To our less than practised eye, they were good for little more than fence rails and posts.
During the time we were busy with building and finishing off our cabin, we took breaks to explore the territory around us. By hiking and driving around we saw the construction of a major logging road not half a mile from the north end of the lake, (now called the ‘4600’) and from it saw the approach of clear-cut logging. We watched, each year, as more and more of the once endless, far-as-the-eye-could-see forest was decimated.
From talking to Ministry of Forests people, we learned of loggers’ plans for our immediate area – round-the-clock, highly automated cutting, bundling, and removal of trees – with cleanup (slash burning) in the fall when the forest fire season had passed. We received assurances private property would not be trespassed, and a fringe of trees would be left standing around the shores of the lake. We were not told about the 24 hour-a-day noise.
The forestry department staff made a point of telling us about the natural disasters, too, and their role in cleaning up after them. They pointed out the forest on the east side of Alexis Lake had been badly scorched in a forest fire in the early 40’s. At that time many older, large trees survived, but most living trees are scarred at ground level. Much of the remaining area was left open with little undergrowth – good for nothing but cottage development, they said.
They told of pine beetle scourges that infected the Chilcotin. Little is known about such infestations, why they arise or how they are best controlled. In some areas older trees were attacked while younger ones somehow remain unaffected, in other areas it was the opposite. A year or two after pine beetle grubs get into tree bark, the trees die and become a fire hazard. In nature, wildfires eventually take care of this. From the fertile ashes of an old forest, a healthier generation of trees grows.
In the Chilcotin, however, where, like everywhere else, the human population is growing slowly but inexorably, vast areas of dead forest have become a menace for ranches and people with cottages. It is a country where summer lightning starts forest fires. It has been decreed (by environment and forestry departments of government) that it is better to be rid of pine beetle damaged trees than it is to allow them simply to fall and rot or be incinerated. And, in that bug diseased trees, if recovered for processing within a year or two of dying, have commercial value, cutting licenses required ‘conditions’. Loggers found themselves bound to take out bad wood with the good. This imposition gave the lumber industry another argument in favor of using the ‘most modern’ clear-cutting logging techniques.
Today, the old forests in the Alexis Creek district have largely disappeared; little remains of what we encountered when we first arrived. In addition to the many stands of trees that became diseased, other natural events contributed to the forest decline. It has been said that as forest cover disappears, damage from thunderstorms and wind is more severe. Simply put, vast cleared-off areas leave built-up properties and unprotected stands of trees on the periphery of these cleared-off areas much more vulnerable to the elements.
As if to add insult to our injury, in the early 90’s, one particularly bad summer storm, a tornado, devastated a two to three mile strip of forest, perhaps 300 acres, along the crest of land paralleling the west shore of the lake. This precipitated a need for a further cleanup, and the logging crew that eventually arrived removed many more trees than just the blow-downs.
If there has been an upside from all this, it is the improvement to the roads in and out of the territory. The main highway is now paved, and the roads into the bush have been upgraded to standards that are safe for logging activity – which, in turn, has been good for our access. Tree removal and road straightening, more gravel, ditches, culverts, and better drying out, have made it easier to get about on these bush roads.
A true account of that access, however, would never be complete without mention of what one sees when driving through. For many years, now, the countryside has been an eyesore, looking more like a moonscape. Replanting has slowly changed that; the hills are greening up. But, like before, once done, there has been a noticeable absence of follow-through. Replanted trees now need thinning. Without this, the forest will revert into another in ‘decadent’ state and become susceptible again to insect infestations.
At the higher elevations of the Alexis Creek drainage, on the plateau, the land is relatively flat. Besides many lakes, there are hundreds of large and small bogs, creating wetlands with their own distinctive environments. The disappearance of the forests, generally, is causing much of this to dry out. Stands of trees adjacent to these wetlands, now more accessible, have been among the last to be opened up for timber removal. These are not large, profitable cut-blocks, and we wonder why this timber must be removed.
After witnessing (with varying degrees of consternation or horror) the highly automated round-the-clock forest cutting we could not fail to notice harmful environmental effects. A tree supporting many great blue heron nests (near Lake Two) simply disappeared, as did the blue herons. After rainstorms the lakes soon became silt-ridden (brown). Nearby clear-cuts, the follow-up slash burning, and even the building of the logging road, caused further soil erosion.
In that virtually no mature forest remains, the existing wetlands around us are bound to suffer from dry seasons. When I say ‘suffer’, I mean the chains of animal and plant life will be adversely affected. In turn, the aquifer, underground water, like everywhere else in the world suffering from clear-cut logging, will sink lower – and we, humans, will face difficulties like never before. Despite recent high water levels in the lake, some neighbors reported their wells drying up. Thus, there is no doubt what patches of forest that have been left standing must remain.
The collective “we” of property owners and campers at Alexis Lake, by receiving much deep joy and pleasure from the area’s unique serenity, have taken up the cause of preserving it from further adversity. But we cannot ignore the array of forces that simply don’t regard the fragility of an environment an issue that demands such commitment. Unfortunately, the ENVIRONMENT has no single advocate, and our government will never be a champion of it. The government sees land - and what’s in, on, or under it, as something it has a duty to exploit – to extract revenue from. It actually encourages business to bid for the use of land, and sees its role as one of sorting out competing interests over it, where they occur.
The Alexis Lake community already has established a somewhat substantial economy, given the private investment in property and improvements – and despite its remoteness. This economy benefits not only from the assessed values of the properties, or from cottagers’ continuing need for goods and services, but also from itinerant campers and other tourists who come up to enjoy the many remote forestry campsites. But despite the tax revenues, and infusion of outside money, many ‘locals’, who live year-round nearby, dismiss our claims that the region benefits more from our presence than if we had not settled there.
Throughout Canada loons have become a wilderness bellwether. If we hear the sound of loons at Alexis, we know all is well. If Ontarians hear them - the same may not be true. The press of human population upon ‘lake country’ in Ontario is so great that many families of loons have been driven away. Whether it is motorboats constantly disturbing their nesting sites, absence of feed, lowering water levels, or mercury pollution, or a combination of all these things, something is destroying that environment.
The notion of closing Alexis Lake to internal combustion motorboats was not a new one when it arose years ago. When our family saw the ad in 1969 (although having no ‘official’ validity) we knew someone cared, and also that it was consistent with the growing movement in BC for closing lakes to boats having outboard motors. The impetus was always one of having to protect pristine environments from noise, fouled water, and the disturbance of wildlife. And it was a foregone conclusion that without motorboats lakes were safer for swimmers.
At first, in the mid 70’s closing ‘our’ lake to motorboats became an obsession with a few, but as the issue was discussed among neighbors, it received growing support. A campaign developed. Many had a part to play. What was interesting was the ‘opposition’; it appeared unexpectedly from among the ranks of government officials. They declared they had a duty to balance our interests with those in opposition. Before they could do this, they said, they wanted evidence to substantiate our claims that loons were disturbed by the wakes of motorboats and would be driven away.
It did not matter how hard we argued that anyone knowing something about loons’ would know that their nests, right at water level, were little more than rafts of moss and lakeshore debris. This made them vulnerable to destruction by wave action. Common sense, we argued, had to prevail, and some environmental principles had to be developed for all ‘small lakes’ before the loons here and elsewhere were gone. First, we offered, motorboats should simply not be allowed on lakes with less than (say) 10 miles of shoreline, or (say) 1000 acres of surface water. Second, all such lakes, indeed watersheds, needed mandated ‘green spaces’ (no logging) for at least 500 meters back from watercourses – the riverbanks or lakeshores.
Officialdom didn’t take kindly to being lectured about principles. They wanted to make judgments without having them questioned. They had little else of consequence to offer - other than a desire to get on with their work - principles notwithstanding. Such officials often make the mistake of assuming that people in dispute over environment issues will be satisfied with compromises, or by becoming subject to regulation, rather than by a ‘correct’ decision that will leave people divided.
So, we wonder just how any official, put in a position of having to discuss, promote, or negotiate alternatives, can ever really serve as an unbiased advocate for the environment. We have yet to meet people working for government, even those in ‘Environment’, who, despite evidence of pollution, are really free to declare: ‘motorboats, operating in small BC lakes, are instruments of environmental destruction and will, henceforward, be banned’.
Fortunately our group of property owners, brandishing a strong consensus, were successful with their own efforts in closing the lake to internal combustion outboard motors. Their lengthy letter writing and lobbying efforts paid off. Government, at the receiving end of this constant harangue, eventually changed its focus. An official somewhere summoned up the courage to declare the case for motorboats was less compelling than the case against them.
We became empowered! That achievement made many of us wonder what more we could do. Today we maintain a careful watch over events that could be harmful to our interests. Just as there should be no procrastination over obvious carelessness, such as a discovery of a cow’s carcass floating in the lake, or of dead animals abandoned in the trap line (incidents which we learned about in the late 70’s), we must communicate quickly with one another about matters that arise which may be cause for concern - like the recent proposal for an airstrip adjacent to our lake.
Privately some of us harbor lofty expectations. We wish for the return of blue herons after their disappearance. (We saw just one last summer – after many years of wondering if they would ever return!). We yearn for more visits from the rare pelicans, hoping that they might acquire the confidence to nest in our waters. We wish to experience again the diving ‘swoosh’ of the peregrine falcon as it preys on small ducks – not for the duck’s sake, but for the balance in nature this represents. And year after year, despite the terrible depredations in the ospreys’ winter habitat in Central America, we celebrate their return to nest in a favoured refuge nearby.
As I write, the incumbent provincial government is facing an election. It is hard not to be cynical about the sudden priority it has given to improving its own ‘green’ image. It is clear Greenpeace (and other agencies) have succeeded in embarrassing it - and the lumber industry – for their lack of action over what have been broadcast about as unacceptable logging practices.
Politicians have awakened to the fact (probably too late for re-election in year 2001) that they must win more votes. They declared a three-year moratorium on hunting grizzly bears, and agreed in principle with Greenpeace’s proposal for protecting a large part of the Central Coast from clear-cut logging. Within the latter decision, stands of 1,000-year-old coastal rain forest trees, and the rare white Kermode (‘Spirit’) bears that live among them, will be spared forever. About the moratorium, feelings run high among the supporters of hunting. Maybe this will cost votes.
Speaking of politicians, laws and bears, odds are stacked against recreational property owners’ interests when their environment is threatened - for laws have been enacted by governments in such a hodgepodge fashion. One would think and hope the ‘senior government’s’ interest, as expressed by the federal Canadian Environment Assessment Act, would have enough status to attract legal testing in Canada, and to provide real environmental guidelines. There is a similar statute in the United States – which receives constant testing. In a recent enactment case concerning powered boats (April 2000), the US National Parks Service brought into effect ‘new restrictions that ban the use of Jet Skis in 66 parks, including Olympic National Park’. Although a limited step, it was challenged, but, on appeal, found within the National Parks’ mandate.
We learn from the stated purposes of the Canadian Act (which includes ‘opportunity for public participation in the environmental assessment process’) that most ‘participation’ winds up at the discretion of provincial or local authority, and is hardly ever exercised.
In the example of a recent application by a business for an airstrip, at Alexis Lake, (to which many of us objected) it was necessary for the applicant to have the Federal Department of Transport notified about the particulars. Fed-Transport’s main interest in such matters lies in public safety. So any concerns about environmental damage were transferred to BC authorities to review. Ultimately, they were dismissed as minimal. The latter’s focus, in this case, was (or remains) on the economics of land use and development.
Mixed government jurisdictions have caused no end of problems. Closing Alexis Lake to motorboats took twenty years to accomplish. Strident arguments from the opposition at first concerned ‘peoples’ rights’ - like with tobacco products, outboard motors, they had never been deemed illegal and were for sale everywhere. The argument went: as there were no restrictions on the purchase of motors, customers ought to be free to use them, with no restrictions. It was an argument compelling enough to bring the proceedings to a halt, not once but several times.
Provincial and federal authorities were wary about having this argument tested. However, as precedents (from settlements in other lake-closing cases) were finally factored in, especially where lakes served as drinking water reservoirs, pollution based concerns at last received some official recognition as a valid reason for closing lakes to motors.
Now, to the mention of bears... Most of us at the lake have no desire to encounter bears during walk-abouts. The Johnsons, during the years they lived full-time at Alexis Lake, had many encounters, and even disposed of one or two troublesome bears. I don’t know if we should be thankful Alexis Lake bears are ‘just’ black bears. Their numbers are increasing and we see their sign everywhere. It is likely what attracts them is the smell of food, so as the human presence in the wilderness increases, it is doubly important to dispose of waste properly, and to clean our barbecues! And, large dogs are useful to have around for insurance!
They say grizzly bears don’t live with us anymore. In the late ‘70’s when logging began in earnest, an elderly rancher, Paxton, whose entire life was spent in the Alexis Creek region, declared that with the arrival of ‘big’ logging there would be no more grizzlies. He talked about the last one killed in the territory, near his home at Spain Lake, in the late 60’s. It was a monster bear which, following the hunt, received recognition as a trophy animal. Despite Paxton’ prophecy, 30 years or so later, in the fall of 2000, horseback riding tourists in the Nazko high country – not far from us – reported a pair of grizzlies gambolling about in a meadow. So, maybe, they will appear close by again. How this will be received remains to be seen!
THE END
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