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We were in The Lake District for the August Bank Holiday, great weather for walking but very busy – unlike the last Bank Holiday - where we had Great Gable to ourselves after a bad forecast kept people away. It was grim back home but we walked in shorts and Tee shirts.
Saturday and we were in the Old Dungeon Ghyll car park and away in good time. What a beautiful morning, we headed up Redacre Gill onto Pike of Blisco. The first climb of the day is always tough until the blood gets flowing. I didn’t really have a plan but it wasn’t what we did that’s for sure. I’d thought that we would walk until early afternoon and then head down, probably from Rossett Pike – But! Jayne made a call to her Mum from Pike of Blisco and she asked if we would be going over the Langdale Pikes – Jayne said yes! I looked at her and said “will we?” I was a bit surprised as it is a pretty full on walk – what we call a two Banana walk – and we only had one. She couldn’t believe that I was letting her off without doing the whole circuit of Langdale. We have done this walk before but usually in the opposite direction. There is a lot of slow and tough ground, ten tops ( depending on where exactly you go in the Langdales) over 15 miles and over 6000ft of ascent – a decent walk. The atmosphere was very clear for August, things had turned prematurely Autumnal last week so instead of warm weather haze it was very clear. We could make out buildings on the Isle of Man, we could also see rain in the distance, over Morecambe Bay and out in to The Pennines. It rained over there for hours and you can see it in the background in a lot of the photos.
We walked from Pike Of Blisco across Red Tarn to Cold Pike onto Crinkle Crags – Including the bad step. On Crinkle Crags we met a very Fit 65 year old from London, wiry and experienced, we crossed paths and walked with this guy for quite a while, it slowed us all down a bit but it didn’t matter. Bow Fell for sandwiches and our one banana. We picked our way down Hanging Knotts, the direct route to Rossett Pike. When there isn’t a well-worn path on the direct route there is always a reason – because it’s hard usually! This was the start of the second half of the walk but the afternoon was ticking by, if we were doing it I wasn’t prepared to cut corners and miss any tops so were committed to the whole thing.
We had a long slog over Rossett Pike, It’s a long fell, across Stake Pass and Martcrag Moor. After the dry summer and a wet August the fells were noticeably wetter underfoot and Martcrag was very boggy. Onto Pike of Stickle and Loft Crag. By mid-afternoon the Langdales were very busy with large family groups, every top had a small crowd on it, we took a photo and enjoyed the view and moved on – briskly! My old knee and ankle injuries were starting to tell a story by now but there wasn’t much I could do about it. Across to Harrison Stickle and I decided to include Thunacar Knott as it’s a short easy diversion on the way to Pavey Ark. Stood at the top of Pavey Ark looking over Stickle Tarn I knew that it was going to be a long painful descent – and it was. The mile or so from the New to the Old Dungeon Ghyll wasn’t so bad as there is a path through the fields which was nice and gentle on my aching joints. Eight hours wasn’t bad as we never hammered it, just wanting to enjoy our first big day on the tops for quite a long time. The golden Rule in Ambleside was calling – after a shower.
On Sunday we had another beautiful start although there was a fair bit of cloud later. We drove over Kirkstone Pass and down to Hartsop, there’s a little car park up the dead-end road through the village, it’s only small and you need to be there early, it was already filling as we got there. We had a tough first climb up the nose of Hartsop Dodd, steep but fantastic views. I’d thought long and hard about how to make the most of the fine forecast for today and views from the first climb proved that it was worth it. The day took us over 17 miles and fourteen tops, the ground was easier than yesterday so we finished an hour sooner but it was still a tough day.
Caudale Moor, Stoneycove Pike, down to Threshthwaite Cove, an out and back to Gray Crag and a quick early sandwich on Thornthwaite Crag. High Street, were most walkers never go near the summit but bypass it on the main path – something that’s true of a lot of tops and a lot of walkers – each to their own. Rampsgill Head out and back to High Raise and Kidsty Pike, back to Rampsgill Head and onto The Knott, Rest Dodd. We normally do an out and back to The Nab on this walk but not today, it might have caused some friction wi’ our Jaynie. Across Satura Crag to Brock Crags, we only had the twin tops of Angletarn Pikes to go and we were done with the tops. I usually find Angletarn Pikes hard work at the end of a long walk but we used a different path this time and they didn’t’ seem so bad. The problem with this walk is that you think it’s all over now but it’s a long fast yomp back to the car- around three miles with a little bit of climbing as well, it certainly magnifies the aches and pains.
Monday was forecast to be wet, very wet the further south you went so we headed north. It rained over breakfast and we feared the worst, gale force wind were also forecast and sure enough the trees outside the dining room were straining at the leash. I t might have to be a short leg stretcher. We headed for Keswick and parked below Dodd. We were the only ones there, gales and rain and it was the day of the Keswick show ( Grasmere Games and traffic gridlock yesterday) The rain stopped but it was a dark and grey day. We creaked our way up Dodd with aching legs, I don’t think Jayne was impressed but we plodded up Carl Side, battered by the wind. Once on Carl Side we were wind propelled along Long Side and over Ullock Pike. There was a bit of blue in the sky to the north and a bit of sun but not much. We descended via The Edge and back along Longside Wood. Nearly seven miles and 2000 ft of ascent.
Over two and a half days we climbed almost half the height of Everest, stood on 28 tops and walked 40 miles ( we clocked a couple of evening miles) we used to do eight day weeks in the Lakes with every day a full on day but over the last few years we haven’t made the effort to travel up there, we need to get our act together – and some new knees!
A picture taken from Harwich, in brilliant sushine, of a ship in Felixtowe container port with a storm behind it.
YCC 33/52, 2020
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We had our January break in Nice this year. This is our combined Christmas and Jayne’s birthday present, which suits me as I can ignore Christmas and no presents to buy. A good result all round. We knew that the weather was forecast to be bad for at least three days which was a bit depressing but there’s nothing you can do about it. We flew from Liverpool, a nice little airport, landed in heavy rain – and it rained almost non-stop for three days. South East France suffered flooding, landslips, airlifts – and deaths! Home from home. Despite having walking gear, waterproofs etc., I had to buy an umbrella. I have never seen as many people with umbrellas, even the young lads had them. They are obviously used to rain – but without the wind to rip the brolly to shreds.
Nice has a pebble beach, the sea was rough on arrival but what we realised later, was that the pebbles were three foot deep on top of the concrete bases that the hotels across the road have bars, settees and tables set up on. For a couple of days tracked Bobcats moved hundreds of tonnes on pebbles, later in the week there were carpets and immaculately laid tables set out on the beach every day, even in January. Every day people swam in the sea and in some cases sunbathed. The temperature peaked at 15C but with the lack of wind it was pleasant, at times though it was cold and snow appeared overnight on the distant mountains, the beginning of the Southern Alps I think.
We walked over 90 miles in seven days and for three days in pouring rain, weighing up the photo possibilities, with the intentions of going back when the weather picked up. On Monday, day four, things improved, on Tuesday and Wednesday it was gorgeous, Thursday was duller. If we had had better weather we would have visited Cannes and Monaco etc. but as it was we stayed within walking distance of Nice. We walked up Castle Hill ( Colline du Chateau) several times in different weather, likewise Mont Boron and Mont Alban. The views were stunning. A peninsula below us was Cap Ferrat and we had an epic day out there, over twenty miles including the 14 Km path around the entire peninsula – the second most expensive place in the world to buy a home apparently. The gates on the driveway would cost more than a small house in Huddersfield. A beautiful place though.
We went to the old Town (Vieux Nice), Cimiez, Villefranche-sur-Mer, the fantastic Russian Cathedral, Pretty much everywhere it was worth walking in the time we had. We walked from 8.30 am until 8.30 pm with barstops for a glass or two of French wine – got to keep it civilised! I had a pretty heavy backpack on with my camera gear and waterproofs etc.
All in all we had a great time but! I made a big mistake, I inadvertently put an 8 Gb CF card back in my camera, formatted it - without checking what was on it – and put another 250 photos on it. I realised when I got home that there was a problem. These photos were the best of the trip, Our second visit to the Russian Cathedral, it was closed the first time, in stunning light, and no crowds. I spotted a giant Cumulonimbus over the snow covered mountains, just as the sun was setting and turning it pink and orange. It was similar to the one I photographed at home recently, A photo of which was on the BBC weather coincidentally. I couldn’t believe my luck, the only way I could get a view of it was by taking a ride on the giant Ferris wheel nearby. We ran to it and they took us around five times, each time I fired away and got some fantastic photos – all gone! At the time I was extremely disappointed but you have to put these things in perspective – it’s nobody’s life. We were there for a break and a change of scenery and we got it, the photos make the trip for me but I still have a thousand great photos, there might have to be a next time though.
For more about Mark@jbschofieldandsons follow the link www.jbschofieldandsons.co.uk/
Shopping mall screens showing the weather forecast w/ bad design making it fairly useless to anyone.
1 - the screens are inside a mall in Helsinki, yet they show general forecast to whole Finland, and
2 - The literal design (familiar from TV) is mostly incomprehensible on urban screens.
The weather forecasters said the 6th September 2017 would be the best day of the week for sun and so 3 of us set off at 4am for Norfolk to photograph the final days (that was said by all we spoke to!) of class 68s use on the Norwich to Great Yarmouth /Lowestoft passenger workings! As ever with the British weather the forecast did not live up to expectations!!
It started quite well with 68028 at the rear of 68005 leaving Great Yarmouth (08.46) with 2P11 for Norwich.
When I read the forecast for Monday 29 April 2013, I decided to stay home and not go on a bird walk with friends. This is what they saw and I missed : ) Apparently, they were all saying how much I would have loved these ice formations. Thanks to an immediate e-mail from Joanne, who was on the walk, I was able to dash out and see them for myself. We had a snowstorm blow in with strong winds, which lasted for about two hours - the very two hours that I was down by the open waters (and ice) of the Glenmore Reservoir : ) Normally, the surface of the Reservoir is calm, but you can see the choppy water in my photo. Later, we got more snow overnight, too. So, it was back to winter boots, winter jacket plus two fleece jackets for a very cold walk in driving snow. Unfortunately, the snow was covering the ice crystals and the light was atrocious, but you can get the idea : ) Joanne, can't thank you enough! Very thoughtful of you to let me know. I also saw at least two Loons way, way out in the middle of the Reservoir, a number of American Wigeons and various others. I wasn't there to look for birds though - my focus was on the ice. Can't believe I stayed there so long - long enough to need Tim Horton's Drive-through on the way home, for hot chili and soup : )
Area Fitzroy, one of an abstract art series of the 31 Shipping Forecast areas which I created with the ArtRage program.
We recently had a week’s holiday to take – Jayne’s job dictates my holidays – we went through the usual process of leaving it late and then desperately selecting a shortlist of cities where we thought the weather might be ok, after a reasonably short flight and we can fly from the north of England. Budapest was the chosen destination.
Budapest is touted as possibly the most beautiful city in Europe and we had a stream of people tell us that it was fantastic. It is. I was looking forward to getting there, no agenda other than walking, photographing the sights and trying to get off the beaten track. We certainly walked – over 70 miles – I photographed it ( I’m a bit embarrassed to say how many shots but it was a lot ) but I’m not sure we got off the beaten track as much as I wanted to.
We flew over Eastern England (and home actually – a first for us) and out over Europe. It was a late afternoon flight on a stunning day, one of the more interesting flights I’ve had. I was glued to the window watching the world go by, wondering about all of lives being played out beneath us. It was dark when we arrived. We were staying on the Buda or Castle Hill side of the city. What we didn’t know was, we were staying in one of the most prominent hotels in the city, sat on the hilltop overlooking Budapest. The Hilton sits on an historic sight and features in every photo taken of the Castle District from Pest. We had time to get out before bedtime and photograph the Matthias Church next door – floodlit – like all of the major buildings in Budapest.
Unfortunately after leaving the best weather of the year in the UK, Budapest was forecast to be a bit dull and cool – not what we wanted. There was occasional sun over the first two days but it was generally grey. Now I have to admit, I let the dullness get me down, I took photos because I wasn’t sure how the week would unfold but I was fairly sure that I was wasting my time. The photos would be disappointing and if it was sunny later we would have to revisit all of the famous landmarks again to get something that I was happy with. This is essentially what happened. The next four days were gorgeous and we did revisit, more than once all of the places that we walked to in the first two days. This meant that we didn’t have the time to go “off piste” or venture further afield as much later in the week.
The sun was rising before seven and we were staying in the best location for watching it rise. By day three I was getting up at 6.00 (5.00 our time) and getting out there with my gear. By day four I was using filters and tripod, not something I usually bother with despite always having this gear with me, and dragging it miles in my backpack. One morning I was joined by a large and noisy party of Japanese photographers, they appeared to have a model with them who danced around the walls of the Fisherman’s Bastion being photographed. Once the orange circle started to appear above the city they started clicking at the horizon like machine guns. We all got on well though and said goodbye as we headed off for breakfast – still only 7.15am.
By 8.00am everyday we were out on foot wandering along the top of Castle Hill wondering where to go that day. We tend to discover the sights as we walk on a city break, frequently discovering things as we head for a distant park or building and research it afterwards with a glass of wine. It works for us. We walked out to Heroes’ Square and beyond, returning by less well known streets. We walked along the Danube to Rákóczi Bridge a couple of times then back into Pest using a different route. Having been under the thumb of Russia for so long and considering its turbulent past there are lots of large Russian style monuments, tributes to great struggles, or the working man – very socialist and very much like Prague in a lot of respects. The Railway stations were also very similar to Prague, you could walk across the tracks and no one bothered. In the main station, now famed for the migrant crisis a few weeks previously, there was a mixture of very new and very old rolling stock from the surrounding countries, all very interesting. Considering that this station is the first thing some visitors to the city will see it is an appalling state. One side of the exterior is shored up and fenced off. This contrasts with the expensive renovation work that has been well executed in the city centre. It really is like stepping into the past when you enter the station building. It all seems to work efficiently though, unlike the UK.
Transport in Budapest is fascinating. Trams everywhere, trolley buses, ancient and new, bendybuses, again, very old and very new, the underground metro, yellow taxis in enormous numbers and of course the river and boats. This never ending eclectic mix seems to operate like clockwork with people moved around in vast numbers seamlessly. The trams looked packed at any time of day. Anyone dealing with tourists seemed to speak very good English, which is just as well as we didn’t have any grasp of Hungarian. Cost wise it was a very economical week for us in a capital city.
Once the weather (or light, to be precise) improved, I cheered up and really enjoyed Budapest. A common comment after visiting is that , although you’ve “done Budapest” you wouldn’t hesitate to go back, which isn’t always the case after a city visit. As ever, I now have a lot of work to do to produce a competent album of work. I think I will end up discarding a lot of the early days material – but then again, I’m not renowned for my discarding skills.
Thank you for looking.
Our late winter break in Tenerife was a bit different this year. The weather was forecast to break the day we arrived – and it did! Rain wasn’t the problem it was gale force winds – the same winds that caused the dust storms in Africa that caused the pollution and sand in the UK. We have witnessed gales in Tenerife before but this was worse than we’d seen it in the past . The palm trees were bending, the sand drifting like snow and the sea was raging. We usually walk around 150 miles on a ten day break but for five days we just walked with a brief spell on the beach, then the gales came back. We covered 22 miles some days and totalled 192 miles, not bad for a beach holiday. In some of the photos it looks stunning but look at the tops of the palm trees, like inside out umbrellas, the beach beds are empty and the waves were up to ten feet high and smashing thirty feet in the air. For five days everyone stood taking photos of the sea. For two days all boats stayed in harbour, only the big ferries sailed, there wasn’t a thing at sea, not even the surfers, we’ve never known that happen before. To add to this jellyfish in their hundred were washing up on shore and there was a severe risk of a burn from them. Even when red flags were flying and flags warning about the jellyfish were up the occasional nutter would go in the water and some people took staggering risks with their children including one couple with a baby, dangling it over the waves, just to get a photo, playing chicken as monster waves crashed in.
One day I had to catch my club sandwich as it went flying from my plate in the wind, empty glasses slid off the table and seat cushions went cartwheeling down the pavement. A couple of days were dull and cool but the menacing clouds made impressive photos, the sea was like a boiling cauldron. We did have days of beautiful weather as well, the second half of the holiday was normal sunny Tenerife. I haven’t hired a car for ages on Tenerife, it adds a degree of hassle to – what is supposed to be – a sun and relax holiday so again we didn’t go up El Teide. Next time perhaps. I took my racing bike once just to cycle from sea level to 8000 feet nonstop – twice! it’s a seventy mile round trip and a long drag to the top. On the way home we had to make an emergency landing in Dublin, fire tenders with foam jets pointing at us, unfortunately I was facing the setting sun and couldn’t take photos as the sun was shining straight through the window. Seven and a half hours on the plane, not much fun.
To see more about the history of J B Schofield & Sons Ltd and their plant and vehicles look here: www.jbschofieldandsons.co.uk/
Forecast se suma a la oferta de moda del Centro Comercial L'Aljub con la inauguración de una nueva tienda. Más info en cclaljub.com/directorio/forecast
(Source: www.america2050.org/ )
Between now and 2050 - 40 years - America's population is expected to grow by about 95 million people (305 million to 400 million).
Most new Americans will be born in (or immigrate to) existing metropolitan areas; but those areas themselves will grow.
Two examples:
Look at "Southern California". The assumption is that transport options along the existing I-15 corridor will be strengthened and that the megalopolis will stretch across the desert and connect to Las Vegas.
Also: The Front Range. Right now it starts on the north end in Cheyenne and ends - with some gaps - in Pueblo CO. By 2050 those gaps will be filled in and the megalopolis itself will stretch another 330-odd miles south to Albuquerque. Once again, the strengthening of transport options along the route of I-25 is assumed.
Also look at the "Areas of Influence". That for the Front Range includes most of Utah and almost touches Las Vegas. The one for Cascadia reaches east and includes Boise.
My native Black Hills - on the map anyway - retains some "independence" but Rapid City identifies strongly w/Denver now and I doubt that will change. When I was a kid Rapid had about 45,000 people; now it's 80,000 (!). In another 40 years, who knows?
Your thoughts?
100 Years on.
You certainly would not have needed a radio weather forecast to know that it was a wet day on the 6th of January 1916 when you and 11 of you cobbers left Delegate under the banner announcing yourselves as the Men From Snowy River on a recruitment route march to Goulburn via most parts of the Monaro.
You most likely came from one of the families who were in their second generation or so of settling on the harsh but rewarding country formerly known as the Maneroo and now known as the Monaro. Your people would have been well aware of the need for self-reliance for survival and carried the legacy of all the cracks who had gathered to the fray. You would have been handy with gun and horse as well as extremely practical. You may well have lied about your age.
You would have been well aware of the big blue in Europe and that, as an Empire Man, you were expected to do your bit for King and Country. Besides, they said, it’d be a lark, see the world they said, be part of the cream as a volunteer, they said, not the curds and whey of a conscript, they said. You’ll be home by Christmas, they said. They’ll pay you 5 bob a day they said.
You may have heard the words of recruitment Captain Wedd before the march began, “The famous Monaro brumby is noted for its staying qualities” “whilst the man from Snowy River is noted for his fine physique and stamina”, his language is always colourful.
So it was you set out singing songs like “Marching Through Georgia” as you followed the220 mile route via Bombala, Cooma, Queanbeyan and Bungendore before arriving in Goulburn on 29 January. You had been feted all along the route. In all 142 men arrived in Goulburn, well short of the 200 expected.
In September 1916 you departed Australia as part of the 55th Battalion for England via South Africa with mostly 2 up to while away the time at sea. There may not have been much of that 5 bob a day left by the time you got to Blighty.
By April 1917 the shine had defiantly have gone off the new ball when you found yourself on the Somme rubbing your feet and calves with whale oil to combat trench foot.
The first time you stood at your trench wall waiting for the shriek of the whistle to send you over the top and into battle would have called on every bit of self-reliance you had been taught by the tough life back on the, by now beloved, Monaro.
And so it went on. You may well have been amongst the troops who had become so disenchanted by the British High Commands total disregard for human life that, when reviewed by the King, could not bring themselves to respond to the call for three cheers for the King. You may have been gassed, seen the demise of the Red Barron and fought with the Yanks at the end against the Hindenburg line.
You would have received the news of the signing of the armistice around 10.00am on the 11th of November 1918.
By April of 1919 you would have been set to be demobbed and yet, you who had survived all this, would not all come home together. First home would be the longest serving, followed by those with family responsibilities. Then those assured employment.
During WWI, Australian troops raised (excluding naval forces) numbered 416,809; of these 331,789 took the field. Casualties numbered 215,045; of which 59,342 were killed. Compare this with the nation’s population in 1916 - 4,875,325
You, like most of your compatriots, probably didn’t talk much about your experience afterwards due to general disbelief or indifference. You would have had to wait a mighty long time to see the tears flow freely when Eric Bogle sang “And the band played Waltzing Matilda” and people could finally appreciate what you had been through.
And so, a hundred years later, the descendants and the wider Monaro community gathered to commemorate these events at Delegate over the Australia Day weekend. There was a street march, speeches, a rousing description of what those men went through by that great chronicler of conflict Peter Fitzsimons AM and martial music from the Royal Australian Military College Band.
It was not a celebration, rather a commemoration. Lest we forget.
Michael Hanley, Head of Digital Communications, Member of the Executive Committee, World Economic Forum and Philip Tetlock, Leonore Annenberg University Professor in Democracy and Citizenship, Wharton School, University of Pennsylvania, USA and Molly Crockett, Associate Professor of Experimental Psychology, University of Oxford, United Kingdom at the Annual Meeting 2017 of the World Economic Forum in Davos, January 18, 2017
Copyright by World Economic Forum / Walter Duerst
Reflecting an ongoing trend toward masculine colors, the deep gray of charcoal carries forward from Brentano's 2014 color forecast. The dramatic neutral pairs beautifully with other colors to add rich depth to traditional and contemporary spaces.
I correctly forecast single costliest natural disaster ever world wide in great detail.
On the evening of June 15, 1896, the northeast coast of Hondo, the main island of Japan, was struck by a great earthquake wave (tsunami), which was more destructive of life and property than any earthquake convulsion of this century in that empire. The whole coastline of the San-Riku, the three provinces of Rikuzen, Rikuchu, and Rikuoku, from the island of Kinkwazan, 38° 20' north, northward for 175 miles, was laid waste by a great wave moving from the east and south, that varied in recorded height from 10 to 50 feet. A few survivors, who saw it advancing in the darkness, report its height as 80 to 100 feet. With a difference of but thirty minutes in time between the southern and northern points, it struck the San-Riku coast and in a trice obliterated towns and villages, killed 26,975 people out of the original population, and grievously wounded the 5,390 survivors. It washed away and wrecked 9,313 houses, stranded some 300 larger craft—steamers, schooners, and junks—and crushed or carried away 10,000 fishing boats, destroying property to the value of six million yen. Thousands of acres of arable land were turned to wastes, projecting rocks offshore were broken, overturned, or moved hundreds of yards, shallows and bars were formed, and in some localities the entire shoreline was changed.
They were all seafaring communities along this coast strip and the fisheries were the chief industry. The shipment of sea products to the great ports was the main connection with the outer world. A high mountain range bars communication with the trunk railway line of the island, and this picturesque, fiord-cut coast is so remote and so isolated that only two foreigners had been seen in the region in ten years, with the exception of the French mission priest, Father Raspail, who lost his life in the flood. With telegraph offices, instruments, and operators carried away, word came slowly to Tokyo, and with 50 to 100 miles of mountain roads between the nearest railway station and the seacoast aid was long in reaching the wretched survivors. When adequate idea of the calamity reached the capital and the cities, men-of-war, soldiers, sappers, surgeons, and nurses were quickly dispatched, and public sympathy found expression in contributions through the different newspapers, amounting to more than 250,000 yen, for the relief of the injured. The Japanese journalist and photographer were quickly on their way, and the vernacular press soon fed the public full of horrors, yet the first to reach the scene of the disaster was an American missionary, the Rev. Rothesay Miller, who made the usual three days' trip over the mountains in less than a day and a half on his American bicycle.
There were old traditions of such earthquake waves on this coast, one of two centuries ago doing some damage, and a tsunami of forty years ago and a lesser one of 1892 flooding the streets of Kamaishi and driving people to upper floors and the roofs of their houses. The barometer gave no warning, no indication of any unusual conditions on June 15, and the occurrence of thirteen light earthquake shocks during the day excited no comment. Rain had fallen in the morning and afternoon, and with a temperature of 80° to 90° the damp atmosphere was very oppressive. The villagers on that remote coast adhered to the old calendar in observing their local fêtes and holidays, and on that fifth day of the fifth moon had been celebrating the Girls' Festival. Rain had driven them indoors with the darkness, and nearly all were in their houses at eight o'clock, when, with a rumbling as of heavy cannonading out at sea, a roar, and the crash and crackling of timbers, they were suddenly engulfed in the swirling waters. Only a few survivors on all that length of coast saw the advancing wave, one of them telling that the water first receded some 600 yards from ghastly white sands and then the Wave stood like a black wall 80 feet in height, with phosphorescent lights gleaming along its crest. Others, hearing a distant roar, saw a dark shadow seaward and ran to high ground, crying "Tsunami! tsunami!" Some who ran to the upper stories of their houses for safety were drowned, crushed, or imprisoned there, only a few breaking through the roofs or escaping after the water subsided.
Shallow water and outlying islands broke the force of the wave in some places, and in long, narrow inlets or fiords the giant roller was broken into two, three, and even six waves, that crashed upon the shore in succession. Ships and junks were carried one and two miles inland, left on hilltops, treetops, and in the midst of fields uninjured or mixed up with the ruins of houses, the rest engulfed or swept seaward. Where the wave entered a fiord or bay it bore everything along to the head of the ravine or valley and left the mass of debris in a heap at the end. Where the coast was low and faced the open ocean the wave washed in and, retreating, carried everything back with it. Many survivors, swept away by the waters, were cast ashore on outlying islands, or seized bits of wreckage and kept afloat. On the open coast the wave came and withdrew within five minutes, while in long inlets the waters boiled and surged for nearly a half hour before subsiding. The best swimmers were helpless in the first swirl of water, and nearly all the bodies recovered were frightfully battered and mutilated, rolled over and driven against rocks, struck by and crushed between timbers. The force of the wave cut down groves of large pine trees to short stumps, snapped thick granite posts of temple gates and carried the stone cross-beams 309 yards away. Many people were lost through running back to save others or to save their valuables.
One loyal schoolmaster carried the emperor's portrait to a place of safety before seeking out his own family. A half-demented soldier, retired since the late war and continually brooding on a possible attack by the enemy, became convinced that the first cannonading sound was from a hostile fleet, and, seizing his sword, ran down to the beach to meet the foe. One village officer, mistaking the sound of crashing timbers for crackling flames, ran to high ground to see where the fire was, and thus saved his life. Another village officer, living on the edge of a hill, heard the crash and slid his screens open to look upon foaming waters nearly level with his veranda. In a moment the waters disappeared, leaving a black, empty level where the populous village had been a few minutes before. Four women clung to one man, seeking to escape to high ground, and their combined weight resisting the force of the receding wave they were all saved. The only survivors of another village were eight men who had been playing the game of "go" in a hillside temple. Eight children floated away and left on high ground were believed to be the only survivors of one village, until one hundred people were found who had been borne across and stranded on the opposite shores of their bay. One hundred and fifty people were found cast away on one island offshore. From two large villages on one bay only thirty young men survived, hardy, muscular young fishermen and powerful swimmers, yet in other places the strongest perished, and the aged and infirm, cripples, and tiny children were miraculously preserved. The wave flooded the cells of Okachi prison and the jailers broke the bolts and let the 195 convicts free. Only two convicts attempted to escape, the others waiting in good order until marched to the high ground by their keepers. The good Père Raspail had just reached Kamaishi from his all-day walk of 50 miles over the mountains and entered his inn, when his assistant called to him from the street. The priest came to the veranda, but in an instant the water was upon him. He was seen later, swimming, but evidently was struck by timbers or swept out to sea, as his body has not been recovered. Japanese men-of-war cruised for a week off Kamaishi, recovering bodies daily. The Japanese system of census enumeration is so complete and minute that the name of every person who lost his life was soon known, and the Official Gazette was able to state that out of a population of 6,529 at Kamaishi 4,985 were lost and 500 injured, while 953 dwellings and 867 warehouses and other structures were destroyed or carried away, and 176 ships carried inland or swept out and lost.
The survivors were so stunned with the appalling disaster that few could do anything for themselves or others. With houses, nets, and fishing-boats carried away and the fish retreating to further and deeper waters, starvation faced them, and, the great heat continuing while so many bodies were strewn along shore and imprisoned in ruins, the atmosphere fast became poisonous. The north-coast people are opposed to cremation and insisted on earth burial, which delayed the disposal of the dead and augmented the danger of pestilence. Disinfectants were sent in quantity, and the work of recovery and burial was so pressing that soldiers were put to it after all available coolies had been impressed. The Red Cross Society, with its hospitals and nurses, had difficulty in caring for all the wounded, the greater number of whom, besides requiring surgical aid, were suffering from pneumonia and internal inflammations consequent upon their long exposure in wet clothing without shelter and from the brine, fish oil, and sand breathed in and swallowed while in the first tumult of waters. Besides the generous relief fund subscribed by the people, the government has made large assignments from its available funds and sent stores of provisions, clothing, tools, etc., to the 60,000 homeless, ruined, bereaved, and starving people of the San-Riku coast.
The wave was plainly felt two hours later on the shores of the island of Yesso, 200 miles north of the center of disturbance on the San-Riku coast, the water advancing 80 feet beyond high-tide mark on the beach at Hakodate. Eight hours later there was a great disturbance of the waters on the shores of the Bonin islands, more than 700 miles southward, the water rising three or four feet and retreating violently. Six hours later, on the shores of Kaui, the most northern of the Hawaiian islands, distant 3,390 miles, the waters receded violently and washed on shore in a wave some inches above the normal height.
The plainest inference has been that the great wave was the result of an eruption, explosion, or other disturbance in the bed of the sea, 500 or 600 miles off the San-Riku coast. The most popular theory is that it resulted from the caving-in of some part of the wall or bed of the great "Tuscarora Deep," one of the greatest depressions of the ocean bed in the world, discovered in 1874 by the present Rear-Admiral Belknap, U. S. N., while in command of the U. S. S. Tuscarora, engaged in deep-sea surveys.
The "Tuscarora Deep" is nearly five and one-third statute miles in depth, being exceeded, so far as known, only by the still more profound depths discovered last year in the South Pacific by Commander A. F. Balfour, of the British Navy.
That disturbances were taking place in this tremendous abyss was again suggested at six o'clock on the morning of July 4, when the Canadian Pacific Railway Company's mail steamer Empress of Japan, sailing directly over it in a smooth sea, was shaken as if a propeller blade had been lost or the ship had struck an obstruction. Every one was roused by the peculiar shock, but no visible explanation was furnished. The destructive wave and this incident together should stimulate further investigation of this dangerous, bottomless pit of the Pacific ocean, which owes its discovery to United States explorers by deep-sea soundings.
[...] Forecasting future events is often like searching for a black cat in an unlit room, that may not even be there [...]
-- Quote by Steve Davidson
Nikon D200, Tokina 28-70 f/2.8, 28mm - f/16 - 1/250s - Flash Metz CT-3
Petrella Salto, Italy (November, 2014)
Being the neo-bumpkin I am, I thought this mirror in our hotel that told the day's forecast was pretty dern neat.
That day, it was WARM. See?
While it's not enough to bring out the snow blower yet, a wet day yesterday with a minimal amount of wind blown evening & overnight snow on top of it will make driving a challenge today.
The weather forecast was partly cloudy last night, so I got up early hoping to catch dawn over the Chesapeake Bay. Instead, the morning ended up cloudy and then it started snowing on my way to the shore. Didn't get many good photos along the beach and cliffs. I spent about an hour before I was too cold and gave up. I ended up snapping this photo right next to the parking lot on the way back. Go figure.
For our 45th Wedding Anniversary we decided to go for a cream tea at Selworthy. The weather could have been better, but at least some digital filters have added a touch of warmth!
Watch the recent forecasting using only the Trading Harmonically Methodology:
www.slide.com/r/Gs3nVPUh4z9i-XznWwK9DvrbFEZThrvi?previous...