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Castle Crag is a hill in the North Western Fells of the English Lake District. It is the smallest hill included in Alfred Wainwright's influential Pictorial Guide to the Lakeland Fells, the only Wainwright below 1,000 feet (300 m).
Wainwright accorded Castle Crag the status of a separate fell because it "is so magnificently independent, so ruggedly individual, so aggressively unashamed of its lack of inches, that less than justice would be done by relegating it to a paragraph in the High Spy chapter."[1] Subsequent guidebooks have not always agreed: Castle Crag is one of only two Wainwrights not included in Bill Birkett's Complete Lakeland Fells.
The fell has an impressive appearance, a rugged height apparently blocking the valley of Borrowdale, which is squeezed between Castle Crag and Grange Fell, its neighbour on the other side. This narrow gorge known as the 'Jaws of Borrowdale', and is prominent in views from Keswick and Derwentwater.
High Spy, the parent fell, forms part of the north-south ridge between Borrowdale and the Newlands Valley. The rough spur of Low Scawdel (1,709 ft) runs out due east from the summit, breaking steeply over Goat Crag and then falling to Broadslack Gill. This small tributary of the River Derwent separates High Spy from Castle Crag.
The wooded height of Castle Crag rises between Broadslack Gill and the Derwent, the two streams meeting to the north beneath the outlying knoll of Low Hows. It has steep faces on all sides except the south, where a low ridge runs out and then swings west around the head of Broadslack Gill. A narrow col here provides the topographic link to High Spy.
The Derwentwater fault runs along the valley of Broadslack Gill, the higher ground to the north west being mainly composed of the Birker Fell Formation. These are plagioclase-phyric andesite lavas and subordinate sills. By contrast Castle Crag shows outcropping of the Eagle Crag Member, a mixture of siltstone, sandstone, conglomerate and tuff with frequent andesite sills.[3]
The slopes of Castle Crag are extensively quarried with pits and levels on the northern and south eastern flanks. The summit has also been extensively worked. The High Hows Quarry later achieved fame as the home of Millican Dalton, the eccentric and self-styled "Professor of Adventure". The caves here formed his summer home from the 1920s until shortly before his death in 1947.
The summit area is believed to have been an ancient hill fort,[1] although the western section has been sliced away by quarrying. It can only be gained by means of a sloping crack to the south. The very highest point is a rock outcrop about eight feet high and twelve feet across. Atop this is a well constructed circular cairn of slate. A memorial to Borrowdale men killed in World War I is affixed to the outcrop.
There is a fine view down the valley, Skiddaw seen to good effect across the lake. Southwards Great Gable and the Scafells ring the head of the Derwent catchment, while near at hand- enhanced by the steepness of the slope- is a view of the woods and crags of mid Borrowdale.
This series complements my award-winning guidebook, Chicago in Stone and Clay: A Guide to the Windy City's Architectural Geology. Henceforth I'll just call it CSC.
The CSC section and page reference for the building featured here: 5.9; pp. 51-53.
Standing on the southern side of E. Randolph Street and looking northwestward.
Behold the lower half, approximately, of the 83-story Aon Center, formerly known as the Standard Oil Building and the Amoco Building. Completed in 1973, it was originally clad in slabs of Italian Carrara Marble sliced too thin to bear the rigors of Chicago's continental climate.
By the time I took this photo, the Carrara's replacement, Mount Airy Granodiorite, had been doing its job for about a decade. While it is no means as lustrous as the original, its monumental paleness nevertheless conveys the building's "Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!" messaging quite adequately. The spire-topped Two Prudential Plaza snuggling next to it provides a nice contrast, too, with its darker, pinkish-gray Mondariz Granite exterior.
As noted in previous posts, I love the Aon, that great hulking beast, all the more for its problems and its detractors. It's good that we have been able to construct such breathtaking structures before our time to do such things runs out.
Quarried in North Carolina, the Mount Airy has been radiometrically dated to 334 ± 3 Ma ago, which places its origin in the Mississippian subperiod (Lower Carboniferous period). As a granodiorite, it's a granitoid rock whose feldspar content is mostly in the form of plagioclase. True granites, on the other hand, contain a higher proportion of alkali feldspars. Such petrologic distinctions are lost on architects, builders, and quarry operators, however. So they call this rock selection the Mount Airy Granite instead.
As is duly noted in CSC, the Mount Airy Granodiorite can also be found and scrutinized at two other Windy City sites—the Congress Plaza Hotel and Graceland Cemetery's Lehmann Mausoleum.
For much more on the site touched upon here, get and read Chicago in Stone and Clay, described at its Cornell University Press webpage.
The other photos and discussions in this series can be found in my "Chicago in Stone and Clay" Companion album. In addition, you'll find other relevant images and descriptions in my Architectural Geology: Chicago album.
The twelfth edition of the Southern Railway's guidebook to Belgium that contains details of travel to and from the country, by the Southern's and other ferry services, as well as details of destinations and attractions in Belgium. These include the Coastal resorts, the major towns and cities as well as travel further afield to the Ardennes.
The Southern were major publishers, as were other main line railways, of guides to their services and places of interest, often on an annual basis as with this guidebook. This cover, showing a barge in a typical Belgian townscape, is by G.D. Tidmarsh. Tidmarsh was an illustrator and artist who was commissioned for several railway posters.
From the 1951 Festival of Britain exhibition guidebook as less common 'joint' advert for the two Government owned airlines that would in time merge to form British Airways. The move towards two airlines, one for Continental services and the other for long distance routes had been started prior to the Second World War and "British Airways" had morphed into British European Airways whilst Imperial Airways had become the Briitsh Overseas Airways Corporation. The BEA 'winged key' logo looks quite graphically clumsy against the ex-Imperial "Speedbird" logo designed by Theyre Lee Elliott for them in the 1930s.
Cacela Velha is not found in every Algarve guidebook, but its beach, views and history is hard to beat. The village is located on a hill above the Ria Formosa natural park and the sea. From its walls you will find one of the most beautiful panoramic views of the Algarve. There is a fort, a 16th century church, clusters of traditional blue and white Algarve houses, and a single eatery. A series of steps leads to a clean and massive sand beach - with great views and a handful of fishing boats.
Set in the most charming part of the Ria Formosa, Cacela is a beautiful walled town overlooking the estuary and the barrier islands. It was a point for Greek and Phoenician navigators, and according to some authors it was Cunistorgis, the ancient capital of the Cúneos. The Romans enlarged it and the Arabs gave it walls. Cacela fell, in 713, to the Moors.
Cacela became a important settlement, defended by a castle from the 9th-10th century. D. Paio Peres Coreia took the town for Portugal in 1240, and it is said to be one of the castles in Portugal's coat of arms.
With the earthquake of November 1, 1755, the town was badly damaged and rebuilt. Today is it a hidden gem on Portugal's Algarve coast. www.azores-adventures.com/2017/04/cecelia-velha-is-a-hidd...
Disneyland Guidebook Map Dinnerware set of four.
A collectible by Kevin Kidney & Jody Daily in honor of Disneyland's 55th Anniversary
Ceramic. Edition Size: 1955
Retail: $40 for the whole set of 4 plates.
A tourist couple consult their guidebook underneath the Statute of Hannes Hafstein in downtown Reykjavik, Iceland. One thing I noticed is that many of Iceland's politicians and important historical figures dating from the early Vikings were poets.The National Cemetery at Þingvellir is not filled with generals or military men but with poets. Hannes Hafstein was no exception. History records him as a politician and poet. Though he did graduate from Law School in Denmark and served as President of the Bank of Iceland in his later years, none of the biographies I have found list lawyer or banker as his occupation or advocation. He was a prolific poet who used his words to encourage Icelanders and promote an independent Iceland.
Born in 1861, he was a Member of the Alping (The parliament of Iceland) on and off from 1900 to 1920. In 1904 he became the First Prime Minister of Iceland and the first Icelander to serve as a member of the Danish Cabinet. In 1909 he became the president of the bank of Iceland. He remained at the bank until failing health forced him to retired in 1917. He died in 1922. The larger than life statue was sculpted by Einar Jónsson and unveiled in 1931.
References:
grapevine.is/travel/2013/08/14/a-quick-journey-of-music-a...
www.hannesarholt.is/english-4/
windowstoworldhistory.weebly.com/hannes-hafstein-icelands...
"According to this guidebook we are sitting on a bench in Gijon in the north of Spain, two old people are walking behind us and a photographer is taking a photo of us from another bench in front of the book shop... and that photo will get put onto the internet on a site called flickr, catapulting us into world-wide fame and fortune......"
(.....in my mind...)
So, in St. Petersburg for a short time, where should I go next, he asks himself and his guidebook?
Guise book no good, Russian impossible to understand.
Decisions, decisions, to hell lets go to the Church of the Savior on Spilled Blood.
OK, we are off, way off.
Print-outs from webpages and notes on sites of interest go into this Moleskine that I use for travels
Photo from Valentine’s City of New York Guidebook.
"Edgar Allan Poe spent the last years of his life, from 1846 to 1849, in The Bronx at Poe Cottage, now located at Kingsbridge Road and the Grand Concourse. A small wooden farmhouse built about 1812, the cottage once commanded unobstructed vistas over the rolling Bronx hills to the shores of Long Island...."
-- Bronx County Historical Society
St Peter and St Paul, Salle, Norfolk
During their awesome reign over the other great teams of Europe in the 1970s and 1980s, Liverpool football club placed a huge sign in the changing room corridor, so that it was the last thing visiting teams saw before they walked out on to the pitch: This is ANFIELD, it warned. The name alone was enough. Similarly, the cover of the guidebook here proclaims, in a single word, SALLE. Again, it suffices; the word, pronounced to rhyme with call, stands for the building. Perhaps only the name Blythburgh has the same power in all East Anglia.
The greatest East Anglian churches were built in the 15th century. It is often observed that there can never have been enough people to fill them, but this is to miss the point. They were never intended for the forms of worship to which they now play host.
The shape of a late medieval church is not an accident. East Anglian parish churches of the 15th century had many common features; wide aisles to enable liturgical processions, a chancel for the celebration of Mass, places for other altars, niches for devotional statues, a focus towards the Blessed Sacrament in the east, a large nave for social activities, large windows to fill the building with light, a roof of angels to proclaim a hymn of praise, a pulpit for the preaching of orthodox doctrine, benches to enable the people to hear the preaching, and carvings, stained glass and wall paintings of the sacraments, Gospels and rosary mysteries, of the catechism and teaching of the Catholic Church.
As Le Corbusier might have said if he'd been around at the time, a late medieval East Anglian church was a machine for making Catholicism happen.
No longer, of course. The radical and violent fracture in popular religion in the middle years of the 16th century gave birth to the Church of England, and the new Church inherited buildings that were often unsuitable for congregational protestant liturgy - a problem that the Church of England has never satisfactorily solved.
Over the centuries, the problem has been addressed in different ways; celebrating Communion at a table in the nave, for example, and blocking off the chancel for other uses. Although this was challenged by the Laudian party in the early part of the 17th century, it was the way that many parishes reinvented their buildings, and most were to stay like that until the middle years of the 19th century. Some went further: a pulpit placed halfway down the nave, or even at the back of the church, meant that the seating could be arranged so that it no longer focused towards the east, thus breaking the link with Catholic (and Laudian) sacramentalism. For several centuries, Anglican churches focused on the pulpit rather than the altar.
With the rise of the 19th century Oxford Movement, all this underwent another dramatic change, with the great majority of our medieval parish churches having their interiors restored to their medieval integrity, reinventing themselves as sacramental spaces. This Victorian conception of the medieval suited itself to congregational worship, and responded in a satisfactory way to the structure of the building. But still, of course, they weren't full.
This 19th century re-imagining is the condition in which we find most of them today, and Anglican theologians everywhere are asking the question that the Catholic Church asked itself at Vatican II in the 1960s - is a 19th century liturgical space really appropriate for the Church of the 21st century?
It requires a shift in the mind to recall that these were not originally Anglican buildings, but it is a shift we need to make. The idea of a previously unchanging Church now confronting the demands of the modern age is wholly incorrect. These buildings have faced a variety of challenges over the centuries; they have only ever been truly suitable for the use for which they were originally built six hundred years ago.
Two of the largest late medieval churches in East Anglia are just three miles apart, at Cawston and Salle in the middle of Norfolk. These clusters are not uncommon; think of Blythburgh, Southwold and Walberswick in Suffolk, for example, or Lavenham and Long Melford in the same county. But Cawston and Salle are really close - you can see the tower of one from the other. St Peter and St Paul is a complete example of a 15th century rebuilding; St Agnes at Cawston retains its elegant earlier chancel.
If not merely for congregational worship, why were these churches built so big? Impressive as they seem now, they must have been awesome at the time they were built, since they were the only substantial buildings outside of the towns, and would have dwarfed the houses of the parish. Some were in villages; but many were not. Salle church has always been out in the fields. Why are earlier East Anglian churches not so massive? Certainly, East Anglia has its cathedrals; Norwich and Ely pre-date the great churches by several centuries, and Bury Abbey was bigger than either before its destruction. The great majority of East Anglia's churches are piecemeal affairs; typically, a 13th century chancel, which must have been the most substantial part of the building when it was first erected, an early 14th century nave and tower, and perhaps later elaborations of the piece with aisles and a clerestory. Salle and Cawston churches are both rebuildings of earlier structures, but a surprising number of East Anglian churches were not rebuilt, until perhaps the Victorians saw the need for a new chancel, or new aisles. Often, these smaller churches are exquisitely beautiful, as if beauty rather than grandeur was the imperative.
And then, towards the end of the 1340s, a great pestilence swept across Europe; in East Anglia, outside of Norwich which got off lightly, it killed perhaps a half of the population. In emptying the countryside, it completely altered the economic balance; a shortage of labour gave new power to the survivors, perhaps setting in place the preconditions for the capitalism that we can recognise by the 16th century. And, in extinguishing the flower of Decorated architecture, it also gave birth to the great love affair between the late medieval mind and death.
In Catholic theology there is no great divide between the dead and the living. For the medieval Christian, communion was something that existed between all members of the parish, whether alive or dead. Thus, prayers were said for the souls of the dead (who, it was presumed, were saying prayers for the souls of the living).
To ensure that prayers were said for them after their death, the very richest people endowed chantries. These were foundations, by which priests could be employed to say masses for their souls in perpetuity. A priest in such a capacity was called a chantry priest. The masses would be said at a chantry altar, probably in the nave; if the person was rich enough, this might be enclosed in a specially constructed chantry chapel. Many churches had them. After the Reformation, many were pressed into service as family mausoleums or pews.
For the poorest people, there was the opportunity to join a guild, where, for a penny or so a week, they could ensure that the guild chantry priest would say masses for their soul after their death (along with those of the other dead members of the guild). Many of these guilds were organised around particular occupations or devotions, and became a focus of social activity. The investment that produced the income to pay the chantry priests was most commonly in land. The church or guild oversaw the management of the land, which is one of the reasons we have an image of a wealthy pre-Reformation church. Land bought to produce income in this way was known as chantry land, a name surviving in many places today. Those who invested in chantries (and few and far between must have been those who didn't) presumed that they were ensuring prayers and masses in perpetuity; but, of course, this was not to be.
Bequests and chantries seem to have reached their peak in the 15th century. Perhaps the Black Death reinforced the urgency of the task. People did not merely want to be remembered; they wanted to be prayed for. And so, those who could afford it ensured that this was not forgotten by leaving their wealth in the very place that was at the centre of communion: the parish church. The richest paid for the additions of aisles and chapels, or for a new font or rood screen. This was not just a naked desire for the recognition of their family status. There was an underlying insecurity to the new landed classes. They wanted to control their destiny beyond their deaths. And so, their gift would be recorded in the form of a dedicatory inscription. One of these survives on the screen at Cawston, and another on the base of the font at Salle. Orate pro anima, they begin, "Pray for the soul of...", an injunction urgently emphasised by the pre-Reformation liturgy, only to be cursed and defaced by the later Anglicans and puritans. Stained glass was another common gift, as well as images, candlesticks, furnishings. Thus were many churches developed piecemeal.
But sometimes, where a parish could rely on a steady supply of substantial bequests, they might be channelled into a complete rebuilding, as at Salle, a summa cum laude apothesosis, where the new church of the late 15th century survives in pretty much its original form. Sometimes, a single wealthy family would shape and direct the rebuilding of a church. One of the richest families in East Anglia in the 14th and 15th centuries was the de la Poles, the Earls of Suffolk. Their mark can be found throughout East Anglia, but most famously and substantially at Wingfield in Suffolk, and at Cawston in Norfolk. Theirs was a long term project; at Cawston, the tower predates the furnishings of the nave and chancel by almost a century.
So why so vast? Certainly, it was ad maiorem deo gloria, to the Greater Glory of God; but it was also to the greater glory of the de la Poles and their contemporaries. The great landed families of England came into the late middle ages full of confidence, and they were determined to demonstrate it. They had survived the Black Death. They had grown richer on its consequences. They had assumed a political power unthinkable a few centuries before. They controlled not just the wealth but the imagination of their parishes. They asserted orthodox Catholic dogma in the face of rural superstitions and abuses. They imposed a homogenised Catholicism on late medieval England. And, as they increased their secular power and influence, a time would come when they would embrace the Great Idea already beginning to take shape on the continent - protestantism. But that was still in the future.
And so, to Salle. St Peter and St Paul is big. This is accentuated by the way in which it stands almost alone in the barley fields, with only a couple of Victorian buildings and a cricket pitch for company. What an idyllic spot! And yet there is an urban quality to the building, as if this was some great city church in the middle of Norwich or Bristol. It went up in the course of the 15th century, a replacement for an earlier building on the same site, broadly contemporary with neighbouring Cawston. While Cawston was largely the work of a single family, here the building benefited from an accident of history; several very wealthy families owned manors and halls in the parish at the same time, and it so happened that the time was the greatest era of rural church building.
Among them were the Boleyns, the Brewes, the Mautebys, the Briggs, the Morleys, the Luces and the Kerdistons, and some of their shields appear above the great west door, along with two mighty censing angels, characteristic of late medieval piety. A steady stream of hefty bequests meant that no expense needed to be spared, and the mighty tower with its vast bell openings was topped with battlements and pinnacles on the very eve of the Reformation.
As at Blythburgh, St Peter and St Paul benefited from the restraint of a late restoration, and the building as we see it now has no external Victorian additions. It is all of a piece. The porches either side are huge affairs, matching the transepts, and give the effect of a vast animal, a dragon perhaps, sprawling with erect head in the Norfolk countryside. Its tail is the chancel, in itself longer and higher than many Norfolk churches. The aisles are tall, austere, parapeted, the Perpendicular windows arcades of glass. In the porches, the vaulted ceilings are studded with bosses; the central one in the north porch depicts Christ in Majesty, sitting on a rainbow in judgement.
You enter the building from the west, an unusual experience in East Anglia, and your first sight is of the seven sacraments font with its tall 15th century canopy, similar to the cover at Cawston. This one is so big it is supported by a crane attached to the ringing gallery under the tower. The font below is interesting because each panel is supported by an angel holding a symbol of the sacrament above - a pot of chrism oil beneath Baptism, for example. The panels themselves are simply done, and are not particularly characterful, apart from the way that Mary turns away and is comforted at the Crucifixion. This panel faces west, and then anticlockwise are the Mass (viewed sideways, as at nearby Great Witchingham), Ordination (the candidate kneeling), Baptism (a server holds the book up for the Priest to read), Confirmation (the candidate obviously a child), Penance (perhaps the most interesting panel - the penitent kneels in a shriving pew), Matrimony (the couples' hands joined by a stole, she in late 15th century dress) and finally Last Rites (the dying man on the floor under blankets also as at Great Witchingham). The font step has a dedicatory inscription to John and Agnes Luce, asking for prayers for their souls. We know that John died in 1489. Perhaps the fabric of the building was complete by this date.
Beyond the font stretches the vastness of the building, the arcades gathering the eyes and leading them forward to the great east window. The chancel arch is barely there at all, just a simple high opening; but as MR James pointed out, it was never intended to be seen.The sheer bulk of the rood screen dado tells us quite how vast the rood apparatus must have been here, and the arch would have been pretty well hidden. Everything is built to scale; although everything has been cut off above the panels, probably in the late 1540s, the panels themselves are enormous, almost six feet high. As at Cawston, St Gregory, St Jerome, St Ambrose and St Augustine, the four Doctors of the Church, are on the doors. Either side are just two surviving paintings; to the north are Thomas and James, to the south are Philip and Bartholomew. The empty panels are a mystery; the screen stood here for a century before its destruction, so it must have been finished; and the dado seems too high to have been hidden by nave altars. And yet, it has all the appearance of never having been painted.
Because the building is so vast, the surviving medieval glass seems scattered, but there is actually a lot of it and some of it is very significant. Some was moved during the restoration of the early 20th century, when the modern glass in the north transept was installed, and the yellow galley lozenges were thankfully replaced with clear glass in the 1970s. The images in the east window are mainly figures; old kings kneel before young princes, there are armoured men and angels, the remains of a scaly dragon. In the centre at the bottom is a perfect Trinity shield, displayed by an angel looking askance.
Some of the panels are now in the south transept. These include fragments of a set of the orders of angels. A kneeling figure is Thomas Brigg, donor of the transept; the scroll behind him begins Benedicat Virgo, 'Blessed Virgin'. The mother of God sits surrounded by red glory, and two women holding croziers, one of them crowned, may be St Etheldreda and St Hilda. Certainly, the crowned figure holding a cross is St Helena.
Despite the wonders of the font, the screen and the glass, the crowning glory of the building is the set of bosses that line the roof of the chancel. They are easily missed, being very high. There are nine altogether, the first and last set against the walls at the ends of the roof ridge, and they form a kind of rosary sequence of joyful and glorious mysteries. They start with the Annunciation in the west (see left) and then continue with the Adoration of the Shepherds, the Adoration of the Magi, the Presentation in the Temple, the Entry into Jerusalem, the Last Supper, the Crucifixion, the Resurrection, and the Ascension into Heaven.
There is a fine set of return stalls in the chancel. Although Salle probably never had a college of Priests, all those Masses for the dead must have provided plenty of employment, because we know that there were seven Priests here at a time when the population of the parish was barely 200. Bench ends include heads, a dragon tied up in a knot, a cock, a restored pelican in her piety, and a monkey. The misericord seats feature faces, including one that is quite extraordinary.
Although the roof isn't up to the glory of neighbouring Cawston, it includes lots of original angels and paintwork, including sacred monograms, and around the wallplate part of the Te Deum Laudamus and Psalm 150. These particular texts seem to have provided the inspiration for many late 15th century interiors; the angels in the roof, the animals on the bench ends, the Saints on the rood screen all in harmony: Let everything that has breath Praise ye the Lord!
The nave benches are mostly renewed now, but the pulpit is an elegant example of the 15th century, from the time when a priority began to be placed on preaching. Curiously, it has been rather awkwardly converted into a three-decker arrangement, probably in the 18th century, with the addition of a platform and desk from a set of box pews. A large sounding board has been placed overhead. The box pews suggest that the medieval furnishings were replaced at an early date, although the replacements too have gone now.
Salle is one of those churches full of intriguing little details that might easily pass you by, so great is the wonder of everything around. Those two little corbel heads above the south door, for instance - what were they for? Perhaps they supported an image that could be seen from the north doorway as people entered, although not a St Christopher as the guidebook suggests, I think. There is a pretty piscina in the unfortunate north transept that has been outlined in wood, a memorial and helm above, a tall image bracket in the corner of the wall of the south transept, a floreated piscina nearby.
There are many brasses and brass inlays in the nave floor; one of the most interesting is a chalice brass (although the chalice is now gone) to Simon Boleyn, a Priest, who died in 1489, and to the east of it a pair of brasses to Geoffrey and Alice Boleyn, great-grandparents to Anne Boleyn, second wife of Henry VIII. Another pair of brasses are to Thomas and Katherine Rose and their eight children. Unlike many churches, Salle actually retains some of the 'missing' brasses, now locked away for safety. It would be nice to think they could eventually be reset in the floor.
One part of the building that many visitors must miss is the chapel above the north porch. There is no sign indicating it; but the doorway, at the west end of the north aisle, is always open. Inside, the vaulted roof is punctuated by spectacularly pretty bosses which you can view at close quarters. The colour is a bit fanciful, but they are fascinating, particularly the central boss of the Coronation of the Queen of Heaven - how on earth did that survive the Reformation?
This is a tremendous building, a box of fascinating delights. What purpose does it serve now? As I said in the introduction, its size was not in response to the needs of a congregation, and as far as worship is concerned it will never be full. It remains constantly in use, however; for regular services in the chancel, sometimes for concerts and recordings, but also of course for the poshest sort of wedding, the kind only the Church of England can provide, and no doubt other elements of the core business of CofE PLC. It is easy to be cynical, but if they ensure the survival of the building, then so be it.
Part of the ruins of Guisachan House, near Tomich in Scotland. My guidebook says "Built by Lord Tweedmouth, this replaced a much earlier one destroyed by government troops following the 1745 rebellion. As well as being responsible for the development of the forest, Lord Tweedmouth built the model village of Tomich - allegedly so he didn't have to look out over his tenants and their crofts. The house was later used as a training centre before being purchased in 1939 by the owner of the nearby Hilton Lodge, Lady Islington, who objected to seeing residents of the house swimming in Hilton Loch. The roof was removed and the house gradually succumbed to the elements, becoming a ruinous shell."
What a shame. Historical photos show an amazing looking place. There's a fuller description of the demise of the mansion here friendsofguisachan.org/main/what-is-guisachan/
To think our guidebook gave this only two stars, below Old Faithfull. It must be one of the wonders of the natural world, a huge hot spring with bacterial mats all around the edge, the bacteria showing different colours according to the temperature of the water.
Images I made for a guidebook about the Brauneck area in Bavaria.
Climber: Benni Plahl
Photo by Bruno Axhausen
On my trip to Marrakesh I was accompanied by two photographer friends, Thomas and Peter. We knew we wanted to stay in a Riad (traditional courtyard house) near the Jemaa el-Fnaa main square and we knew we didn't want to spend loads. We were lucky enough to find the Riad Dar Limoun which was a bit basic compared to some but was brilliant value at £12 per night each for a triple room. This shot was taken on the roof terrace and features just one of the many guidebooks I took with me...... I always try and take some shots like this as they act as good title shots for slide shows.
Seen in Explore, #192, 18/11/12