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End of the Course/My Journey Ends Here
On the last day of the horrendous 2019-20 school term, this wonderful sunset seems to sum up some of the emotions experienced by myself, my colleagues and my students: fear, uncertainty, anger, frustration and...love & hope.
I’m now exhausted, with a strange (hopefully short-term) aversion to screens and online interactions.
This won’t last for long. :-)
From my yard,
South Carrick Hills
SW Scotland
“Cursum Perficio” - Enya, “Watermark”.
(Reference to Marilyn Munro’s final home.)
Dommel
The Dommel is a small river in the Den Bosch. It is 120 kilometers long and starts in Belgium (Limburg) and end in the Netherlands (Noord-Brabant)
The origins of the name Dommel are not really known, but in the beginning of the 8th century Bisschop Willibrord named a river Dumthala.
Possibly Dom or duth comes from the dutting of reeds. And Mel is a reference to floating.
Te floating area of the Dommel belongs , geographical , to that of the Maas and at the source the river is 77 meter above sea level.
The Dommel is suitable for canoeing and small sight seeing ships, like the one we see here in Den Bosch. We tried to buy a ticket, but everything was sold out when we were there, so we couldn't do that tourist trip.
And in keeping with my previous reference to 19th century American poetry, here is something from one of the most famous of his day, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882):
Softly the evening came. The sun from the western horizon
Like a magician extended his golden wand o’er the landscape;
Twinkling vapors arose; and sky and water and forest
Seemed all on fire at the touch, and melted and mingled together.
The many-photographed Kelpies are a very popular subject. Especially it would appear among novice photographers. I arrived about an hour before sunset and left about an hour afterwards and for the whole period the place was crawling with toggers catching one angle or another. It was getting almost impossible to get a shot without a fellow shooter getting in the frame. How do I know they were novice? I kept getting asked the question ‘why do you take the same shot three times?’. I tried to explain the benefit of bracketed exposures but they just weren’t getting it.
When it’s crowded like it was here this is one area where long exposures have a valuable benefit over hand held shutter speeds. I did have several people in this frame when shooting this image but only one stood in place long enough to register over the duration of the exposure. I deliberately left him in as a point of reference in this post (standing at edge of frame next to the left horse) although it would be a simple task to take him out with the clone tool. It’s just sometimes of considerable benefit to get more correct in frame at the time of shooting than to spend the extra effort in Photoshop later.
I watched this green heron stalking prey for quite a long time. Alas, he didn't capture anything while I watched him/her. This one was pretty small. Much smaller than a crow. Though bird references would have you believe otherwise, we see green herons year-round here in the Phoenix area.
A blue hour view of the former St. Nicholas Hotel (tall building) and Annex in the 100 block of N. Fourth St. in Springfield's historic downtown. This view is to the northeast just south of the intersection of Fourth & Washington St.
The St. Nicholas Hotel is a historic hotel building located in downtown Springfield. The original building of the St. Nicholas Hotel was constructed in 1855, and no longer exists. A 6-story annex, seen here to the right of the main building, was built on the hotel in 1910, and the current 11-story main building was constructed in 1924.
The Georgian Revival-style main building was designed by the New York City architectural firm H.L. Stevens and Company. When the current main building opened, it was the second-tallest building in Springfield after the State Capitol.
During sessions of the Illinois General Assembly, the St. Nicholas Hotel became a meeting place for Illinois politicians. The hotel has hosted many notable visitors to Springfield, including U.S. Presidents Harry S. Truman, Dwight D. Eisenhower, and John F. Kennedy.
In Illinois political lore, the St. Nicholas is best known as the residence of Paul Powell during his tenure from 1965 to 1970 as Illinois Secretary of State. Within days after his death in 1970, the executor of Powell's will found $750,000 in cash stored in shoeboxes, briefcases, and strongboxes in Powell's suite. Another $50,000 was found in his office. As the money greatly exceeded Powell's salary, which was at the most $30,000 per year, a federal investigation examined Powell's behavior while in office. The investigation determined that Powell had acquired the money via illegal cash bribes and led to the imprisonment of several state contractors.
The hotel was added to the National Register of Historic Places in 1983, and also is a contributing building to the Central Springfield Historic District. Today this historic hotel building has been repurposed as the St. Nicholas Apartments.
Maybe this was the lull during Super Saturday. Remember Super Saturday? It was the day when the Snaefellsnes peninsula was our world and we explored it royally. From mid morning at Grundarfoss until after sunset under an enormous pink swirling cloud at the black church of Budir we stopped here there and everywhere on a day of maximum input and an output that will have me reaching into the archives for months, possibly years to come. I have no less than eighteen separate folders full of RAW files from that finest of days, some of which contain large numbers of images to pore over, while a few, such as the group I took from a layby on the road to Hellnar have just two or three files, little more than handheld snapshots.
By the time we arrived here, we’d already had a very agreeable few hours at the lesser known Svodufoss on the northwest corner of the peninsula, where we’d bathed in autumnal sunshine under the majestic white peak of Snaefellsjokull. We’d paused briefly to photograph the church of Ingjaldsholl in front of the glacier, before sauntering happily along the remote and empty Utnesvegur, passing a discarded landscape of twisted forms. A crater here, a lava field there. For now we were just driving through the landscape, enjoying the privilege of witnessing this extraordinary peninsula. We’d stop at Arnarstapi and photograph the white house again next, we decided. But for a moment we’d take that side road to Hellnar and pause in the layby for a snack, from where we could gaze down at the church we’d abandoned all intentions of photographing twenty-four hours earlier. I’d seen some very agreeable images of the subject in these pages, but from wherever you looked it was surrounded by clutter, and the most compelling pictures I’d found for reference had been simplified by a blanket of snow. Reluctantly we’d agreed that there probably wasn’t a shot here for this trip. I took a couple of snaps with the long lens and duly filed the results, instantly forgetting the episode as we moved on to the next stop where there was an already tried and tested composition to revisit. The lull was over, and the feeding frenzy of Super Saturday had resumed.
It was only much later, in one of those moments when I decided that while I wanted to play around with some shots in the editing suite, I wasn’t in the mood for sifting through a large number of candidates. I wanted simple, and simple didn’t come easier than a folder with only three RAW files, two of which appeared to be almost identical. The shortlisting would take approximately zero seconds. Maybe I could declutter the space around the church? Another monochrome conversion with a bit of contrast would help to simplify the scene, and perhaps there was an image hidden in plain sight that was worth persevering for. Just a quick half hour before I moved away from the computer and did something else with my Sunday afternoon, I thought to myself. And so I started to tinker, gradually removing one distraction after another with varying degrees of success, until the white church stood alone in its space against the quiet ocean. A dodge, a burn or several, a pair of levels and curves adjustments and the shapes of distant mountains somewhere closer to Reykjavik appeared across the water. Now an image that initially offered little promise began to take shape. It still wasn’t one I planned to share – at least not until the moment that I began to rather like what I was looking at. Somehow, an image had evolved from a messy starting point and I was happy.
It makes me wonder what else I’ve got lying around in my saved files; what images are hovering one step away from the dustbin of eternity that might have a hidden promise just waiting to be hatched from chaos. When there are so many fantastic moments still waiting to be captured, it may be a while before any more of the lesser lights appear, but anything is possible. “Never delete anything – just in case,” seems to be the lesson I’ve learned, not that I often do. You never know when you might see something in an unloved snapshot that you overlooked in the first place.
If you are looking at this, you know where it is from. This is an image from the Palouse region of eastern Washington State. More specifically this is shot from Steptoe Butte. This was my first time to the Butte, it won't be my last.
We had been wanting to go here for a long time, but could never seem to carve out the time. This year, we were determined to make it out there in June, so the fields were green. However, this June has not been very sunny, in fact, its been quite the June-uary. We looked at the forecast and found what looked like a small window mid week. The COVID work-from-home actually worked in our favor here, I just worked on my laptop during the 6 hour drive there and back, while my fantastic wife drove. We only had the chance to stay one night, so I only had one sunset, and one sunrise. I did not have the luxury of waiting on the weather. All the other sites of the Palouse would have to wait for another trip, this trip was Steptoe only.
We got to the hotel, solid cloud cover. Near sunset, still solid cloud cover. Grrr. I set out anyway, Like everyone who comes here, we stayed in Colfax, 15 minutes from the Butte. My tripod monkey and I arrived at the Butte and it still looked bleak, but possible. The sky had some breaks here and there. So we set up the tripod and waited. I had read that the best images were not found at the top, but rather near the base of the hill. This way the images line up better with the hills.
I was feeling frantic, because I wanted to be in the right spot when the sun actually broke (if it was going to break). See, you need the sun to cast the shadows among the hills. Flat clouded skys are your friend at waterfalls, but not here. He who controls the skys did not have me wait long. No longer were we all set up and ready, the sun started to perform. We actually got about an hour and a half of good light that night. No crazy colorful sunset, but that was OK, we only needed the light on the hills.
There are a lot of great subjects here at Steptoe. The hills surround the Butte for 360 views. Naturally, to get the best shadows you go with something north of south of the setting sun. Most shoot the Whitman County Growers famous grain silos. I did too, though this little lonesome tree caught my eye. My wife is a sucker for a lone tree, and it certainly evokes an emotion.
I will probably post a few of the Palouse, I shot 32 gig of images. Let me know what you think.
Oh, and the title of the image is referencing the tree, not us alone at Steptoe. The Butte is never alone, the photography community would not have it. Especially in June.
I decided not to go with the all-too-obvious other title for this image and instead decided to allude to it through tv show pop-culture references...
Another moody shot of which type I've been loving lately, this shot is from my first and only trip (so far) to the coast of the Olympic Peninsula. After seeing so many amazing shots from people like @nickpagephotography and @shainblumphotography I finally decided to make the trip up here, looking for those epic sunsets. Of course, my entire trip there was fogged in by a marine layer in which I couldn't see the sky for the entire time! As a result, I ended up with very muted, flat images. For a long time I was pretty disappointed and didn't know how to turn them into anything interesting but recently had a bit of an epiphany. I love when that happens don't you? Sometimes it just takes a few months...
After my initial disappointment, this turned out to be one of my all time favorites.
Hope you enjoy!
On a recent trip to Boston, one of the top attractions for me was this set of sculptures called Harbor Fog. Getting this image was funny. Normally I spend my time behind the camera almost like a statue myself. Here, that was not the case. The lighting and 'fog' was motion activated. So you have to interact with these sculptures in order to get them to spew fog. So I would set up the camera and then run through them to set them off. I had other people with me, and they did a fair amount of running too. There was some science behind how you approached them and how much fog they put out. I admit, I don't think we ever figured it out. Anyway, we looked like around of silly gents continually running around like chickens with our heads cut off.
It has been fun to watch the area around these sculptures grow over time. For a long time the trees were new and the images around them have grown a lot. In the winter this scene looks much different, more stark. You almost have to shoot it in the summer to get the framing. I tried several different lens combos to make the Custom House building it bigger and smaller. In the end, I would have liked it bigger, but it kind of distracted when it was. In the end I liked these proportions better. Naturally, this is a blend of several images, to add as much fog as I could. I wished there was more, but these sculptures are tricky. Here is some info on these from wiki:
Harbor Fog, stilled buoys dream of a lost harbor, is a responsive sensor-activated interactive contemporary public sculptural environment located in Boston along the main pedestrian walkway of Wharf District Park Parcel 17, on the Rose Fitzgerald Kennedy Greenway. The first permanent public artwork along the Greenway, the concept was selected through a competition for commission by the Mass Highway Department, and integrated into site construction in collaboration with engineers during building of the Central Artery/Tunnel Project (Big Dig).
The sculpture is constructed of three column forms fabricated from stainless steel and bronze, that reference the shape of buoys, each column contains multiple fog nozzles, LED light sources, motion sensors, and sound systems. The sculptural columns are surrounded by a boat-shaped outline of granite seawall blocks, salvaged from landfill containing 18th century piers that were discovered during sub-surface highway construction. The 2000 lb granite seawall blocks are elevated on stainless steel supports that allow the fog to travel under the blocks, and openings between the elevated blocks allow passage into the interior space. Multiple motion sensors on top of the vertical columns register pedestrian activity that is transmitted to a computer processor to control changing sequences of fog, light, and sound.
The technology that operates the sculpture is maintained by the non-profit Rose Kennedy Greenway Conservancy.
Your hand was a weapon
Within a sturdy cross
A blue study transformed as if
Matisse had turned violent in a fit of passion
We felt the building might be condemned
There were notices on pieces of flimsy paper
Exteriors made by humans were now crumbling
And still there was that implicit threat
An outstretched hand transformed with a weapon
I said to Jesus
“I’ve given up. Stop! You’ve tangled my emotions!”
God has all of the answers and leaves us with only questions
And the feeling of helplessness.
I’ve given up on waiting any longer.
Whatever you’re looking for…..
Don’t come around here no more.
This poem references the song by Tom Petty:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=h0JvF9vpqx8
**All photos are copyrighted**
You may from time to time have seen reference to the “Three Happy Snappers” in my stories. That’s me, Dave and Lee. You don't need to know anything about me that I haven't already mentioned, so let me give you a brief introduction to the other two happy snappers. Dave is a web guru (whatever that is) and a fine art graduate. He, his wife and the youngest of their three adult sons are rarely seen in public, preferring to hide in their homely forest cottage that would have the Brothers Grimm reaching for their quills in imagination fuelled fury. Outside his day job, Dave looks after the website of a famous person, but I can’t tell you who it is of course. Client privileges and all that. He’s also my younger brother, which means I’ve known him for approximately five and a half decades. I was confined to my bed with German Measles the day he was being born at home in the next room, and when consulted by village elders on what I thought about my new baby brother, I apparently replied that he was ok, but on balance I’d rather have a new Thomas the Tank Engine train set. Choo choo!
Lee joined our world twelve or thirteen years ago, when he was invited to come and play football one Friday evening and was immediately accepted into the group on a long term basis. He used to sell glasses from a shop in Falmouth, made by the family business in his native West Midlands. Nowadays he works for a local electrician in the village where he lives, running the shop, keeping the appointments book up to date, and advising me on camera gear. His daily commute takes approximately one minute in either direction - on foot. Just occasionally, we lure him away from the village, but he does seem to be growing roots in the few years since he and his wife moved there from Falmouth. Before he came to Cornwall, he also had a famous client. He's not taking on new customers these days, but for us chosen few, he can still rustle up a new pair of varifocals at a price that tells me I shouldn't have gone to a certain optician on the High Street. I’ve never had a famous client by the way - or even any clients at all for that matter. I once bumped into Little Mo from Eastenders at Gatwick Airport. Does that count?
From time to time, the Three Happy Snappers convene at one location or another to take photographs at sunset, have a bit of a catch up with each others’ lives, discuss the football and enjoy a slow pint of hop based infusion before heading for home. And to my amazement we were going out for the second occasion in under a month. This time we’d agreed upon Land’s End in early August. The heather should be looking good around then. It was great at the same time last year. We'd grab some food on the way down, and then spend the second half of the afternoon among the heather. With any luck we’d get some nice light towards the end of day.
But what’s this - a fourth happy snapper gatecrashing the party? Well I remembered a message I’d had from one of you. Step forward artisan cheese maker Lloyd, who was making an extra visit to Cornwall this year. You know Lloyd - king of the super long exposure. I don't know if he has any famous clients, so you'll have to ask him I'm afraid. He usually arrives in quiet November, armed with a camera bag and good intentions, so being told that he was coming here in the middle of summer was a bit of a surprise. It so happened that his brief holiday coincided with our outing to Land’s End, and he was staying at nearby Cape Cornwall too. And yes he’d be delighted to meet us at Land’s End and update the locals on exactly how much it costs to park there if you don’t have a postcode that begins with “TR” or “PL.” It was the fourth time I'd met him here over the last three years. A spleen venting nine pounds and fifty pence this time. Ouch! I get to park here for free.
Half an hour later, after wrestling our way through the hordes, we were sitting in the hotel grounds, supping four frighteningly expensive pints and planning our sunset shoot. Ever the tech tart, Lee was demonstrating the remote shutter contraption he'd recently acquired to operate his phone camera from six paces away as the four of us gurned inanely at the birdie, waiting for the Google Pixel that he'd perched perilously close to the edge of the bench to topple onto the concrete below. Somehow it survived the drop. It might have been the best picture of the day.
What didn't appear to have survived this far into August was the heather. This time last year it was here in abundance, but today much of the growth was already distinctly brown and patchy. Plan A was looking a little bit shaky, so it's a good job that there are plenty of other things to take pictures of at Land's End. Although somehow, the small patch of heather that I did find in the right place made it into the image. It was easier than this last year. Strange when it’s been so colourful elsewhere around here recently.
It's always great fun when the three happy snappers get together. Even more so when an honorary fourth joins the party. Although we did ask him to bring some cheese next time. Who doesn't love cheese?
More views from walking around Portmeirion.
There was some colour in the gardens and borders. Here we saw a lovely Magnolia tree.
In 1925, Welsh architect Clough Williams-Ellis acquired the site which was to become Portmeirion. He had been searching for a suitable site for his proposed ideal village for several years and when he heard that the Aber Iâ estate near Penrhyndeudraeth was for sale, he did not hesitate to make an offer.
He wanted to show how a naturally beautiful location could be developed without spoiling it, and that one could actually enhance the natural background through sympathetic development. The Aber Iâ estate had everything he had hoped for as a site for his architectural experiment: steep cliffs overlooking a wide sandy estuary, woods, streams and a nucleus of old buildings.
But the history of Portmeirion started long before 1925. The construction of Castell Deudraeth was recorded in 1188 by Gerald of Wales, who wrote: "We crossed the Traeth mawr and the Traeth Bychan. These are two arms of the sea, one large and one small. Two stone castles have been built there recently. The one called Castell Deudraeth belongs to the sons of Cynan and is situated in the Eifionydd area, facing the northern Mountains."
Castell Deudraeth was referenced again by the 17th century philologist, geologist, natural historian and keeper of the Ashmolean Museum in Oxford, Edward Lhuyd in 1700. Lhuyd recorded the name as Aber Iâ, stating " The Castle of Aber Iâ yet stood in ruined form overlooking the south western extremity of the peninsula".
In 1861, Richard Richards wrote a description: "Neither man nor woman was there, only a number of foreign water-fowl on a tiny pond, and two monkeys, which by their cries evidently regarded me as an unwelcome intruder. The garden itself was a very fine one, the walls of which were netted all over with fruit trees...Aber Iâ, then, gentle reader, is a beautiful mansion on the shore of Traeth Bach, in Merionethshire."
When Williams-Ellis acquired the land in 1925 he wrote, "a neglected wilderness - long abandoned by those romantics who had realised the unique appeal and possibilities of this favoured promontory but who had been carried away by their grandiose landscaping...into sorrowful bankruptcy." Clough immediately changed the name from Aber Iâ (Glacial Estuary) to Portmeirion; Port because of the coastal location and Meirion as this is Welsh for Merioneth, the county in which it lay.
His first job was to extend and convert the old house on the shore into a grand hotel. The concept of a tightly grouped coastal village had already formed in Clough's mind some years before he found the perfect site and he had quite a well-defined vision for the village from the outset.
Portmeirion was built in two stages: from 1925 to 1939 the site was 'pegged-out' and its most distinctive buildings were erected. From 1954-76 he filled in the details. The second period was typically classical or Palladian in style in contrast to the Arts and Crafts style of his earlier work. Several buildings were salvaged from demolition sites, giving rise to Clough's description of the place as "a home for fallen buildings".
"An architect has strange pleasures," Clough wrote in 1924. "He will lie awake listening to the storm in the night and think how the rain is beating on his roofs, he will see the sun return and will think that it was for just such sunshine that his shadow-throwing mouldings were made."
The first article about Portmeirion appeared in The Architects' Journal (January 6 1926) with photographs of scale models and preliminary designs prepared by Clough to impress potential investors. In this article, John Rothenstein writes: "On the sea-coast of North Wales, quite near his own old home, Plas Brondanw, he has acquired what he believes to be an ideal site, and he is engaged upon plans and models for the laying out of an entire small township. The results of his scheme will be significant and should do much to shake the current notion that although houses must be designed with due care, towns may grow up by chance."
The Hotel Portmeirion officially opened for the Easter Weekend, on 2nd April 1926. The last building, the Tollgate, was built in Clough's 93rd year.
What do you see?
Some of the hoodoos along the North Fork of the Shoshone River are eroded into fanciful shapes like the one pictured here. Some folks think these hoodoos resemble people, animals, imaginary creatures, buildings, or manufactured items. On the North Fork, some have official names, some have unofficial names and many more just await any traveler’s imagination. Part of the fun of driving the North Fork Highway is what your imagination can see in the hoodoo shapes. This one for example, do you see a goose? A baby dinosaur looking up at its mother? A howling dog? Something else?
Pictured is one of many mimetoliths long this road that leads to Yellowstone National Park. A mimetolith is a natural topographic feature, rock outcrop, or rock specimen whose shape resembles a person, a real or imagine animal, a plant, a manufactured item or any part thereof. Visual pattern recognition like seeing shapes in clouds and rocks; seeing faces in inanimate objects or abstract patterns is a normal humans tendency. This tendency, called pareidolia, was once seen as a mental disorder but is now seen as common and normal in humans.
So, what do you see?
Reference: stoneplus.cst.cmich.edu/mimetoliths/
"To the memory of the soldiers and sailors of Klickitat County who gave their lives in defense of their country. This monument is erected in hope that others inspired by the example of their valor and their heroism may share in that love of liberty and burn with that fire of patriotism which death alone can quench."
These are the profound words inscribed on the alter stone inside of the Maryhill replica of Stonehenge located on a placid hillside overlooking the winding wonder that is the Columbia River Gorge.
I urge you to research the Quaker Samuel Hill whose vision this was, as he had a long and eventful life, but it was on one of his fifty (pre transcontinental flight era) trips to Europe in 1915 accompanied by Britain's Secretary of State for War Lord Horatio Herbert Kitchener that he visited the original Stonehenge. According to Hills biographer, it was Lord Kitchener who told Samuel that Druids used this place for human sacrifice 4,000 years ago. Mr. Hill being a pacifist and having witnessed the most barbaric of wars ever drew a parallel between human sacrifice of old and the wars of man and so while the war to end all wars was still raging, he dedicated this monument in 1918.
Said Nelson B. Brooks at the dedication; "To Klickitat County, Washington attaches the distinction of being the first community in the Northwest and so far as reported the first in America, to consecrate a memorial to its sons who have met death while in the nation's service in the existing war ... six names have already been inscribed upon the monument: Dewey V. Bromley, John W. Cheshier, James B. Duncan, Robert F. Graham, Carl A. Lester, and Robert F. Venable. Space has been left for others who are expected in the nature of things to follow. Of these, 'One sleeps in the land where rolls the Oregon, three in the soil of the pioneered hills of Klickitat, one upon the blood-stained hills of France, and one who, when the ocean gave up its dead from the torpedoed Tuscania, found a brutal place beneath the heather of Scotland'.
Indeed, names since added:
Henry Allyn
Charles Auer
William O. Clary
Harry Gotfredson
Louis Leidl
Edward Lindblad
Harry O. Piendl
One of them was 28, the others between the ages of 19 and 21.
I'd seen pics of this place and watched video's on youtube, most of them leaving me, um, unimpressed and truth be told I made this nearly four hour drive solely to see an oddity in the middle of nowhere and to cross it off my list. Even pulling up to it my first thought was that it was even smaller than I had imagined and I was thankful for getting out of the car.... then I stepped inside...it was still dark, but bright enough to see and even though I knew no one is buried here I felt as though I were on hallowed ground, and I was.
Go see it, and never forget.
ps
while you are there, wander a little down the hill and say hi to Sam who was cremated and buried there three years after the completion of his monument.
NRHP reference No.100006703
I firmly believe there is a spiritual energy connected with bodies of water. Saw this referenced on one of those ghost hunting TV shows years ago. The investigators noticed an uptick on paranormal activity in places saturated near rivers, lakes, ponds, etc. Not sure about any of that ghost stuff, but it stands to reason that water can harbor some form of energy. It is after all one of the forces of nature that sustains life. One of the cemeteries I visit is bounded by a river, and I invariably experience strange phenomenon there. I'm always drawn to ponds and streams. I find them instantly soothing of the soul, and its easy to drift off in to a meditative state if you spend any amount of time there. My back woods open up to this small pond, and it's been a source of inspiration over the years. I find it almost impossible to walk past it without pausing at least a moment to appreciate it, and just as often photograph it. I've witnessed it in every conceivable light, and am continually amazed at all of the 'faces' it reveals, everything from inky black to radiant splendor...like a giant mood ring. I'm always keen on its reflective quality. What you see is a sort of reality-based Rorschach test. Some people see a whole other world in the reflected light. Others see only the water itself, or what lies just beneath the surface. On this lonely autumn day I happened upon this extraordinary scene. It was as if nature teed this up exclusively for me. Of course I got the shot, but also lingered much longer. There was a presence here far beyond that which I could actually see.
Before you read the history below you might want to take note of the mascot when you zoom in. You also can see it here: flic.kr/p/2pWdC2H but it was the last year before Rolls Royce went forward with the Spirit of Ecstasy, that was modeled after Eleanor Velasco Thornton by artist sculptor Charles Sykes. And it was that one, the Spirit of Ecstasy, that remained on the hoods/grill surrounds for decades after. Now onto some history:
Formally established in 1906, it is remarkable how quickly Rolls-Royce Limited gained a reputation for superlatively built cars—and how readily the Rolls-Royce name was adopted as a byword for quality in other consumer goods, from motorcycles to home appliances. This enduring legacy was built on the Silver Ghost, which debuted in 1906 and was officially designated the 40/50 HP in reference to the output of its quiet-running 7,036-cubic-centimeter side-valve inline-six.
Carefully engineered and overbuilt by design, the Silver Ghost was soon judged by the contemporary motoring press to be “the best car in the world.” The 40/50 HP quickly proved itself on rallies and endurance runs of all lengths and around the globe; as further evidence of their robustness, Silver Ghosts would serve with distinction during World War I, when many were converted into armored cars.
This Rolls-Royce, chassis number 1175, was built with a much more genteel purpose in mind. As noted in the original build sheet (a copy of which is on file) and confirmed in The Edwardian Rolls-Royce by John Fasal and Bryan Goodman, this Silver Ghost was ordered by an H. Trimmer of Twyford, Hampshire, England in August 1909; Rolls-Royce completed the chassis prior to the end of the year. Fitment of an imposing, Barker-built Landaulet took a bit longer, however, and Mr. Trimmer would not take delivery of the finished car until February 1910.
Although much of this dignified car’s subsequent history is presently unknown, the Silver Ghost passed through two additional recorded English owners by the early 1950s, after which it was exported to the United States. It then disappeared from the public eye, remaining out of sight for decades.
In 2017, chassis 1175 was acquired by the consignor, sans bodywork, from Steve Littin—proprietor of Vintage & Auto Rebuilds of Chardon, Ohio, and an internationally recognized authority on early Rolls-Royces. The car’s new owner, a businessman, restorer, and vintage motorcar enthusiast well-known on the West Coast, clearly recognized the potential of this rare Silver Ghost. With nearly a dozen Pebble Beach Concours d’Elegance showings under his belt, he also recognized that any new body constructed for it would need to be both stylish and executed to the highest standards.
After consulting Littin’s archives of vintage drawings and photographs, he selected another elegant Barker design, one worthy of this mighty chassis: The famous “Roi des Belges” phaeton.
A REMARKABLE ROI DES BELGES
Initially fitted to a Panhard et Levassor owned by Leopold II, King of Belgium at the turn of the 20th century, the so-called “Roi des Belges” body style was eventually adopted by a number of coachbuilders and adapted for a range of fine chassis. But the design, sometimes called the “tulip phaeton” on account of its curved seats, was particularly well-suited to the Rolls-Royce Silver Ghost. Indeed, the design is today perhaps most closely associated with the 40/50 HP by modern enthusiasts.
The majority of this Silver Ghost’s restoration, including the construction of the bodywork and belly pans, was handled by the consignor’s extremely capable in-house shop. Photos on file show the intricate wooden body framework, as well as the hand-formed metal bodywork with the Roi des Belges’ signature tulip curves; once fitted to the body, this was finished in a handsome slate gray, with the hood and cowl left in striking polished aluminum—all the better to highlight the “parallel bonnet” configuration characteristic of early Silver Ghosts. Much of the machine work and the sourcing of correct parts was performed by Vintage & Auto Rebuilds, with other Rolls-Royce suppliers and specialists enlisted as needed. The car’s Lucas lamps were purchased from UK-based supplier Genius of the Lamp.
Following the completion of the restoration in 2021, the reborn Silver Ghost was shown at the 2022 Rolls-Royce Owners’ Club meet in San Diego, California, where it was met with acclaim. It is not difficult to see why: Massive in size yet elegant in proportion, this car is also resplendent with details inside and out. In addition to its polished Lucas lamps, including “King of the Road” cowl units, the gleaming dashboard is equipped with a rare Elliott Brothers dual speedometer/odometer, as well as a Tiffany & Co. clock.
* Sotheby's
The Hume-Rowe House is an excellent example of vernacular Victorian residential architecture embodying elements of the Queen Anne style. The house features a prominent canted hipped roof, a bay window, a wraparound porch, a railing with gingerbread-style brackets, and turned wood balusters.
J.L. Hume, president of the First National Bank, purchased this property in 1897 and built the house around 1905, although it is still being determined whether the Hume family ever lived here. In 1905, Hume sold the property to Callie May Rowe, the daughter of James Cato Rowe and his wife, Mary.
James was an aide to Robert E. Lee during the Civil War and a member of a pioneer Austin family. Callie and her parents lived there until 1910, when James died. After that, Callie rented the house for several years, and Mary lived there from approximately 1916 to 1920. The house had a long series of owners before it was sold in 2006 to Aryn Sullivan, who applied for historic zoning for the property. Today, the house is a City of Austin Historic Landmark.
Listed on the National Register of Historic Places in 1990, the Hyde Park Historic District includes an eclectic mixture of architectural styles, from late 19th-century Queen Anne and Classical Revival homes to 20th-century bungalows and ranch houses. Additionally, many of the houses and buildings in Hyde Park have been designated City of Austin Historic Landmarks and Texas Historic Landmarks.
Source: 2019 Hyde Park Neighborhood Association Homes Tour
The east facing side of the viewpoint on top of cliffs along Almannagjá at Hakið overlooks the Óxará (river) which flows down the center of the rift valley at Þingvellir, Iceland. Situated near the river’s banks are Þingvallabær, a farmhouse, and Þingvallakirkja, a church.
Þingvallakirkja (on the left) was the site of one of Iceland’s first churches. The original was consecrated in the 11th century not long after the Alþing (The Viking Parliament) set Christianity as the official religion of Iceland. The vote was held near the site of the church at Law Rock (Lögberg) in the Almannagjá Gorge. Over the years several churches were built here, each at very close to the same spot as their predecessor. The current wooden building dates from 1859. Inside are several bells from earlier churches, a 17th-century wooden pulpit and a painted altarpiece from 1834. Independence-era poets Jónas Hallgrímsson and Einar Benediktsson are buried in the cemetery behind the church.
The farmhouse, Þingvallabær, to the south was built for the 1000th anniversary of the Alþing in 1930 by state architect Guðjón Samúelsson. It’s now used as the park warden’s office and more importantly, the prime minister’s summer house. Behind the building the cliffs of some of the fissure associated with the east side of the rift valley can be seen.
References:
icelandroadguide.com/items/hakid/
guidetoiceland.is/connect-with-locals/jorunnsg/ingvellir-...
notendur.hi.is/oi/geology_of_thingvellir.htm
www.thingvellir.is/en/history-nature/history/
icelandmag.is/article/9-essential-things-know-about-thing...
for a moment
I can pretend
that you are sitting
here with me
***
I take shots on my mobile not just for reference for my work, but also to show my Dad, as he likes looking at what I get up to during my day, and he enjoys looking at pictures. My Dad has dementia, and he is now in a nursing home. But sometimes, even these ordinary things, these sometimes odd shots, will spark a memory for him.
His face lights up as he remembers.
I wondered if I could give these sometimes candid, everyday shots a longer life...then the iPhone Haiku Album was born!
This was a rainy day, and I had stopped here for a while, thinking of when we used to walk here.
I have paired this work with "Fast Car" by Tracy Chapman. When my Dad was a youngster his first job was as a car mechanic. He likes seeing my car out of his room window even now.
And if you would like to see more of my work, have a look at my website at:
In the clear water of the river it is like photographing inside a large aquarium. Here a sunfish came to check me out and then swam away. For reference the fish was about 4"/10cm long.
Even by my standards I’ve been very slack at sharing images from last summer’s expedition to North Wales. All the more bizarre when you consider just how beautiful it is there. There are those of you who rightly point out that I’m extremely lucky to live out in the sticks where I do, far away from all the noise and angst of the cities, next to one of the most feted coastlines on the continent. Cornwall is stunning - there’s no arguing with that.
But so is North Wales. And not only does the top half of the Principality have a coastline to rival our own; it also has imposing mountains, huge lakes and crashing waterfalls in numbers. And it’s delightfully serene in the middle of June. You don’t get ripped off here either. I mean I’m not keen on the concept of paying to park at all, but at least the prices are reasonable in this part of Wales. I’m not going to tell you how much Cornwall Council charges us to park at Gwithian Towans now we’re back in the busy season. As far as I’m concerned, North Wales has the lot. A hiking acquaintance of mine from Denmark, who knows the Scottish Highlands very well, insists that North Wales is her favourite part of Britain. It’s just as remote from the world as our home in West Cornwall, and it’s even got a smattering of heritage railways if you like that sort of thing. Although Ali wouldn’t let me go for a ride on the Talyllyn Line. She has no sense of reverence for my childhood dreams of yesteryear. Come on - I know it’s not just me; hands up - how many of you wanted to be a train driver when you were five years old and fed on a diet of bedtime stories from the Reverend Awdry’s published works? The Talyllyn Railway even made a guest appearance once or twice when Thomas and Percy were on their holidays.
We came to Harlech because yet more hiking friends of ours had been here three summers earlier, when we had all been cautiously released from some of the more drastic aspects of Lockdown One. I followed their motorhome adventures across the realm on the usual social media channels, and demanded to know exactly where they’d parked the bus to get such a jaw dropping view across the Llyn Peninsula. Mark told me, and I duly noted the location for future reference. One day, once we had a van of our own, we’d be heading there ourselves. I needed that view in my life.
Of course by the time we were planning that visit in Brenda, our ageing Renault Master van, I’d forgotten the name of the farm campsite up in the clouds, but confirmation that I’d found it on the map again came quickly, and we made a pilgrimage of our own. It didn’t disappoint; right from the first evening we were treated to a spectacular sunset. The second evening was pretty good too as you can see. As we rolled up the slope towards the main road from the beach at Llandanwg towards sunset, we paused briefly to admire the view from the cliffs above the edge of the beach. Not for the first time I pointed the long lens over the darkening expanse of Bae Ceredigion, picking out the line of the mountains at the eastern end of the peninsula, while a glowing band of rich orange golden light filled the space between the water and a thick band of black cloud. To cap the moment, a pillow of nodding cumulus drifted silently across the scene, mimicking the shape of the landscape below almost to perfection.
There are those of you who know that despite this being a very Welsh scene, black and gold are the national colours of Cornwall. It seems our Celtic brethren do a similar line in spectacular evening light, and it’s perhaps no coincidence that, surrounded on three sides by the sea, the Llyn Peninsula is a very similar shape to our own - take a look at the map and you’ll see for yourself. It even points in the same direction, cloaked in the black velvet of approaching darkness.
I’d better stop eulogising about Wales now. My better half is Cornish through and through and she doesn’t like it when I start suggesting that other parts of the British Isles might be at least as nice as home. “Gisson over the bridge back to where you came from,” is what I usually get, even though I’ve been here for nearly fifty years. Otherwise she might not allow us to come back to Harlech - and I’ve already stated an intention to return next summer. I want to go on a train ride you see………..
This is the dragon/serpent sculpture in Anza Borrego Desert. At 350 ft long it is the largest metal sculpture in the group. I was visiting Borrego to grab some shots of the milky way, having just learned how to predict where the milky way would be. The only problem was that I have never been here before so I was unclear about which direction the dragon faces so at each of the sculptures I noted which way they are facing for future reference.. After finding the position of the milky way in the night sky it soon became clear I would need to revisit this amazing place. I composed a few shots with what I had to work with. After checking the shot on the cameras display I felt that the photo needed something else, so I took off my headlamp and set it to the red LED setting and placed it in the mouth of the dragon which gave it some additional interest. and the dragon itself is light painted using a Neewer 160 LED portable light panel. Next time I think Im going to bring along some dry ice to place inside the mouth for a smoke effect.
Does anybody have a fog machine I can borrow. LOL :)
Thank you for taking the time to take a look at my photos and as always, your views, comments, faves, and support are greatly appreciated!! Have a great week everyone :)
If you have any questions about this photo or about photography in general, I will do my best to help, just post a comment or send me a Flickr mail and I will respond as quickly as possible.
It might not be the most upmarket place we’ve stayed in this year, but George (presumably Anglicized for the overwhelmingly British clientele) and his team have given us a very warm welcome. The apartment is comfortable and clean and we don’t ask for more than that. If George is slightly disappointed that we don’t spend quite as much time or money at the hotel bar as most of his guests, he doesn’t show it. Maybe my rapturous approval of the house Village Salad has put a big mark in the credit column for the occupants of room sixty-six. But we prefer to explore a holiday destination rather than lounge about by the pool ordering pints of Mythos all day. Besides which, Ali only drinks water. Hot water or cold water are the only two beverages she needs in life. People don’t believe her at first - they think she’s just being polite. No really - no tea, no coffee, definitely no juice or sugary fizzy pop (you should see her face when I pour a glass of orange juice in the morning), and no alcohol either. I make up for these shortfalls - except for the fizzy pop. I don’t drink that stuff either. I’m quite keen on the Mythos though. Especially the way it’s served in frozen glasses. I’ve taken to putting my own beer glasses in the ice box for an hour before pouring one back at the apartment in the evenings.
Our holiday rep is young, shy and giggly. She’s also Swedish. I was in Sweden less than two weeks ago, and at the bar, as I pay for my Village Salad, I bore the poor girl to sleep about my adventures in her homeland. She agrees that the west coast is a beautiful part of the country. In turn I agree that we’re having a lovely time here in Rhodes. She grins. I think it’s the last time we’ll stay in a place like this though. For years we booked everything independently, but after the pandemic, and just so we could blame everything on the operator when things went wrong, we returned to the traditional package holiday. But it’s not really our thing. Neither of us like mixing with other people, and we really don’t need to be entertained in the evenings. We much prefer the sound of the cicadas at night to what we’re being served with here. So far we’ve been treated to Whitney Houston, Bob Marley, Lionel Richie, Billy Ocean, Rihanna, Wilson Pickett and Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons. All of this as we sit out on the balcony each evening, whether we like it or not. Obviously not the actual artists. How much do you think we paid for this holiday? Besides which it wouldn’t be possible as a number of them aren’t with us anymore. What’s interesting is that all of the performers come from South Africa. We think it’s the same people coming back every two or three nights, each time wearing different wigs. The quizmaster isn’t from South Africa though. Essex I reckon. He was still reading out the questions after midnight the other evening. The majority of the other guests are several years older than us. Exactly how many Rihanna songs are they familiar with? I only know two and I’m a mere stripling compared to most of them. The artists are very versatile. They usually lapse into Earth Wind and Fire or Heatwave after they’ve played the only three songs that anyone knows. Two if it’s Rihanna. Nobody seems to notice.
And competing with all of this is the din from the bar just across the way. To my horror, someone in charge of the jukebox has just faded out Mark Knopfler’s legendary guitar break from “The Sultans of Swing,” the only thing that has quite literally been music to my ears as we sit out here on the balcony in the dark. Because apparently it’s karaoke night. And the most important thing about being a karaoke performer is that you need to be tone deaf. Take the hen party that’s shouting the words of Paul Heaton over the microphone. More like an Imperfect Ten really. I sigh and open the Booking.com app. I noticed there were some apartments in a village up in the hills near the Seven Springs that we visited the other day. Next time we’ll do it all independently again, just like we used to.
To escape from all of this we’ve hired a car, just like we always do on these holidays. This time it’s a white Suzuki Celerio with a squeaky clutch pedal and a remote key fob that has a dead battery. Mostly we turn right at the bottom of our road, heading along the strip and out of town towards wherever we’ve decided to retreat to. Each time we do this, our first hazard is a bend in the road that I’ve unaffectionately named Poo Pong corner, a reference to the fact that it evidently sits over the town’s sewage drain, and upon which someone has opened a restaurant called Flames. Oh the irony! Surely it would only take a lit cigarette on an especially noxious day for the Flames to go up in, well, flames? It never seems to be that busy there. I love Greek food, but not when there are competing aromas coming from a river of floating effluent just a few yards away that’s come from the inner workings of a couple of thousand overindulgent tourists.
Occasionally though, we turn left instead of right, and drive a mile or two down the road to the tiny beach at the edge of the next town. This is a little piece of the Greece we love, with quiet water lapping at the shoreline, the flat warm sea such a gentle contrast to the drama we’re used to at home. And one evening as the sun sunk over the hills in the west it delivered the first worthwhile picture. Strangely, taken along the holiday strip rather than in some remote wild area. Later, back on the balcony, as someone from the raucous bar squawked to everyone within a half mile radius that they were simply the best, I had a quick go at it on the little laptop that comes with me on every holiday these days. I decided to award myself a small glass of ouzo. And promptly changed my mind in favour of a slightly bigger one. I needed to do something to drown that karaoke out.
The world-famous graffiti artist's OZMO latest mural in Liepāja
The mural " Siren, Wind, Sea and Freedom" emphasizes the importance of the sea in the daily life of the city, depicting it in the image of the Sea god Neptune, the seductive and captivating city, depicted in the image of a beautiful woman – a Siren, and the wind of Liepāja. In this work, too, OZMO has used his typical references to world-famous works of art. The image of Neptune is modelled from that one on the fountain of Neptune in Bologna, Italy, but the wind is symbolized by the Wind god Aiola, depicted in this shape at an ancient marble tab and used in the works of OZMO before. In turn, the woman’s head is decorated with three stars as those from the Latvian State Statue of Liberty, thus emphasizing the importance and role of Liepāja in the whole country.
“When creating my works, I always do research in advance and use different symbols. In this mural, the wind creates roaring sea waves, both united by the beautiful Latvian city – Liepāja, which is symbolized by a real-life girl, a singer seen on the social network Instagram,” says the author of the work OZMO. ” To create this more than 150 m2 large painting, it took 11 days, 217 colour cans, a tube of sunscreen, one bucket truck and many forthcoming people, who helped to implement this long-cherished idea,” says the author of the project idea, the “Red Sun Buffet Beach Bar” co-owner Mareks Alberts.
OZMO is visiting Liepāja within the project “Street Art Portraits in the Streets of Liepāja”. He began his creative career creating comics, but soon turned to writing and painting. In 2001, he entered the Florence Academy of Visual Arts in Milan, collaborating with the world’s largest art galleries. Shortly afterwards, under the nickname OZMO he became known for his impressive wall paintings. His works can be seen in Milan, London, Rome, Miami, Baltimore, Shanghai, Paris, Gdansk and many other cities around the world. More information about the artist is available here:
Cala Violina - Bandite di Scarlino, Scarlino - Grosseto
Questo clima caldo anche a settembre ha concesso la possibilità di farsi una nuotata qui in Italia mentre il resto dell'Europa è già con clima freddo; questo caldo fuori stagione ovviamente non durerà a lungo e neppure sarà da sperarlo visto che l'estate italiana è stata caldissima e secca come non succedeva da anni.
Cala Violina è una insenatura con una spiaggia molto conosciuta anche dai turisti stranieri e fa parte delle spiaggie delle Bandite di Scarlino, o meglio il Complesso Agricolo Forestale Regionale delle Bandite di Scarlino.
L'azienda, di proprietà della Regione Toscana, occupa una superficie di circa 6.000 ettari, distribuiti nel territorio di quattro comuni della provincia di Grosseto: Scarlino, Follonica, Castiglione della Pescaia e Gavorrano. Il complesso agricolo e forestale, che fa parte del Patrimonio della Regione Toscana, è gestito in forma unitaria dai quattro comuni con il Comune di Scarlino in veste di Ente capofila. Le attività svolte nel complesso le Bandite sono tese principalmente alla valorizzazione, conservazione e salvaguardia degli ecosistemi agricoli e forestali.
Cala Violina è una cala della Maremma grossetana, nel territorio comunale di Scarlino, che si apre sul mar Tirreno all'interno della riserva naturale delle Bandite di Scarlino. La cala è racchiusa tra due promontori di Punta Martina a nord, che la divide da Cala Martina, e di Punta Le Canne a sud. La sabbia bianca che caratterizza la spiaggia ha anche conferito il nome alla cala, in riferimento ai suoni che essa "emette" quando viene calpestata da chi l'attraversa, in assenza di fonti sonore di rilievo. È raggiungibile a piedi attraverso un percorso di 30 minuti all'interno del bosco che arriva fino al mare.
This warm climate even in September gave the opportunity to take a swim here in Italy while the rest of Europe is already cold; this unseasonal heat will obviously not last long nor will it be hoped for since the Italian summer was very hot and dry as it hadn't happened for years.
Cala Violina is an inlet with a beach well known also by foreign tourists and is part of the beaches of the Bandite di Scarlino, or rather the Regional Forestry Agricultural Complex of the Bandite di Scarlino.
The forestry complex, owned by Tuscany Region, occupies an area of about 6,000 hectares, distributed in the territory of four municipalities in the province of Grosseto: Scarlino, Follonica, Castiglione della Pescaia and Gavorrano. The agricultural and forestry complex, which is part of the Heritage of the Tuscany Region, is managed in a unitary form by the four municipalities with the Municipality of Scarlino as the leading body. The activities carried out in the Bandite complex are mainly aimed at enhancing, conserving and safeguarding agricultural and forest ecosystems.
Cala Violina is a cove in the Grosseto Maremma, in the municipality of Scarlino, which opens onto the Tyrrhenian Sea within the Bandite di Scarlino natural reserve. The cove is enclosed between two promontories of Punta Martina to the north, which divides it from Cala Martina, and Punta Le Canne to the south. The white sand that characterizes the beach has also given its name to the cove, in reference to the sounds it "emits" when it is walked on by those who cross it, in the absence of significant sound sources. It can be reached on foot through a 30-minute path through the woods that reaches the beach.
© Riccardo Senis, All Rights Reserved
This image may not be copied, reproduced, republished, edited, downloaded, displayed, modified, transmitted, licensed, transferred, sold, distributed or uploaded in any way without my prior written permission.
There are several surprises about Yuccas, at least to me. Surprise #1: Yuccas are a type of flowering succulent not actually a cactus, but often called a cactus. Surprise #2: Some yuccas bloom only at night because, surprise 2.5, they are pollinated by a particular moth, the yucca moths, all of which are nocturnal. Surprise #3: After blooming, which may be only once in a lifetime, some yuccas just up and die. That is the life cycle of some yuccas.
As you can see here, this yucca is none of the above. I was lucky to see five Yuccas - you know, after two or three times, the word "yucca' loses all meaning - come into bloom and remain so six weeks later. This one is about 30 feet tall. (Most yuccas live five or more years: only one reference to how long yuccas live came up with this fantastic fact: One existing Mojave yucca is at least 12,000 years old.) The one in the photo is of an unknown age (but at least 50 years) and the yucca at the end of my driveway, also in bloom, was planted in 1974 and is now a whopping 12 feet tall. It has a hole in the trunk which gets higher every year, and that has been the nest for oak titmice twice, and the Chestnut-backed chickadee once, in March of this year!
P.S. The flowers are always white.
Mountain Samdain Kangsang (6590 meters), is the second highest peak of the Nyenchen Tanglha range. It is seen here in sunset from Shachi Penninsula, Nam Tso Lake.
The Nyenchen Tanglha range continuous snow mountains accompanied with the blue sky seems very solemn. The famous Samdain Kangsang Snow Mountain is just one of them. Being one of the twenty-five highest mountains of Tibet, it's given the religious character.
Nam Tso གནམ་མཚོ།
salt lake The lake lies at an elevation of 4,718 m, and has a surface area of 1,870 square kilometres. It is the highest salt lake in the world, and largest salt lake in the Tibet Autonomous Region. However, it is not the largest salt lake in the Tibetan Plateau. That title belongs to KokoNor མཚོ་སྔོན་ མཚོ་ཁྲི ་ཤོར་རྒྱལ་མོ་ (almost twice the size of Namtso). Namtso has five uninhabited islands of reasonable size, in addition to one or two rocky outcrops. The islands have been used for spiritual retreat by pilgrims who walk over the lake's frozen surface at the end of winter, carrying their food with them. They spend the summer there, unable to return to shore again until the water freezes the following winter. This practice is no longer permitted under the Communist Chinese regime in Tibet. www.footprinttravelguides.com/c/2848/tibet/&Action=pr...
(grid reference SK2468784429)
A wooden pole has stood here for hundreds of years marking the border of Derbyshire and South Yorkshire, Hathersage and Sheffield and probably the ancient kingdoms of Mercia and Northumbria. It is on an ancient packhorse route known as the Long Causeway and must have been a useful landmark to travellers over the years.
Keeping to a theme of distorted or dissolving architectures that provide a metaphor for the dissolution of rational constructs that no longer serve. My previous image cited the Major Arcana Tarot Card, The Tower, as a psychological metaphor for the coming down of a mental or psychic construct that is deemed as nothing but a hindrance in current circumstances. Here I reference that again but add to that the growing critique of the notion of modern, capitalist, exploitative progress at the expense of all else. The notion of limitless growth and limitless profit is patently ridiculous. Such growth, as I think we'll see in our lifetimes, will simply have to stop. It cannot be sustained. And again, this is not so much about radical changes to the outward world we know, but a radicalization of the thinking that creates it.
Collection of Gary Taylor, Toronto.
Part of the "Hypothetical Awards" Group's "Annual Urban Art" Challenge, HUGE thanks to Mel Cabeen for the invitation to it.
View Large on Black.
I'm sorry, but I'm trying, I tried real hard Ringo to avoid making the last post of 2022 anything but a waterfall!
But sod it, here you go, a small section of Wain Wath Force taken on our Grand Day Out around Keld.
You may be reassured to know that my Hydrotherapy sessions start the third week in January.
Anyway, a spot of music. I've been listening the this very talented lady for a while now.
Attended a Lime Rock Show yesterday, and was mostly disappointed with the subject matter. I'll probably have a few shots to post but one car immediately grabbed my attention and literally stopped me in my tracks. I was clueless as to what it was, but it was a real beauty. And it was until I returned home and did some online research when I found out more about this little gem...like it's 1/2 mullion dollar plus price, among other things. It's a limited production, custom bodied car built by an Italian company, Kimera, and it features the same underpinnings as the original Lancia EVO37, a 500hp+, both supercharged and turbocharged inline 2.1L 4 cylinder powerplant. The following will provide the interested reader with more details:
Following the launch of its original Lancia 037 restomod in 2021, Italian outfit Kimera Automobili has revealed a new limited-run take, inspired by Martini Racing’s iconic Group B racer. Developed in collaboration with two-time World Rally Champion Miki Biasion and Martini, just 37 examples will be produced, with prices expected to exceed the £415,000 of its original car.
Kimera’s EVO37 is not built from one of the few, and very special originals, but built from scratch in a similar construction method with modern materials and techniques. The chassis itself is a bespoke monocoque built from tube steel, with subframes directly welded to it on either side. The steel structure is then clothed in bespoke carbonfibre panels, replacing the original kevlar composite units.
While it features the same underpinnings as the original EVO37, the Martini 7 adopts a new carbonfibre aerodynamics package, applying a new front splitter, side skirts, more aggressive in-built canards and NACA ducts aft of the doors and on the rear haunches. The use of more carbonfibre and carbonkevlar in the Martini 7 is said to drop weight to 1100kg.
Continuing the motorsport theme, the rear has received a complete overhaul, with new carbonfibre air vents framing a transparent engine cover to reveal its rally-inspired power plant. The rear bumper is also now equipped with a quick disconnect mechanism, allowing buyers to display the gearbox casing and ceramic coated exhaust system in all its glory, just like the Group B 037.
As in the homologation car, the forged double wishbone suspension has a long-travel design, with dual Ohlins dampers flanking the separated spring at the rear and a more compact coilover design on the front end.
Like the structure, the engine is also referenced by the original, running a new-build 2.1-litre four-cylinder engine that is both turbo and supercharged. Unlike the original, however, the supercharger will be electrically driven, so as not to bleed power away from the engine itself as all purely mechanical units do.
The engine’s development has been overseen by one of Lancia’s original powertrain engineers Claudio Lombardi, and thanks to the advances in engine technology is said to produce 542bhp in Martini 7 trim, up 49bhp on the original EVO37. The engine will power the rear wheels via either a six-speed manual, or six-speed sequential transmission, the latter operable via electro-mechanically actuated paddles behind the steering wheel – in-line with its motorsport connection, ratios are shortened in Martini 7-trim.
The overall design remains similar to the original restomod, reworking the Lancia 037’s iconic design with the aid of modern, high-tech carbonfibre manufacturing techniques. Details, like the front and rear lighting, mesh inserts and wheels are also new, the latter being of a much larger 18- and 19-inch staggered design to clear the modern brake package. The Martini 7 receives new wheels inspired by those originally featured on the Delta Evoluzione, created with weight-saving in mind and incorporating the yellow/black carbon-kevlar of Delta group A cars.
Inside, Kimera has opted for a tasteful dry carbonfibre and blue Alcantara theme, with the dials coming with the same orange backlight as the racer. A unique limited-edition plaque, enamel Miki Biasion/Martini dashboard logo and Martini Racing harnesses also feature, with the main control panel labelled exactly how it was in the race car. Being a modern recreation, Kimera has also incorporated a second control panel in the centre console for fine tuning of the ABS and traction control.
A total of 37 Kimera EVO37 Martini 7s will be produced, joining 37 of the original recreation.
By: Sam Jenkins
Take it for a spin through the gears here: www.google.com/search?q=kimera+evo37&oq=kimera&gs...
Adrienne fixed her gaze on K’hall, her voice steady but laced with urgency. “Our mission is to locate and destroy the reptilian nest. If Kayla’s double is operating with the same objective, she’ll be drawn to it. Help us find the nest, and we may find her.”
K’hall said nothing. He paced slowly, his expression unreadable.
Kayla turned facing K’hall, “The reptiles only breed one time then die off. Once their eggs are destroyed, their forces will collapse. No more breeding, no more reinforcements. And with that, the threat of them breaching the veil will be gone—for good.”
K’hall halted mid-step. “Bext,” he called, his voice low but commanding.
A tall figure emerged from the bright light of the bridge. Her frost-white hair shimmered under the overhead lights, and her blue eyes sharp. She moved with quiet precision, her presence commanding without a word.
“What intelligence do we have on the lizards’ breeding grounds?” K’hall asked.
Bext moved to the nearest console, fingers gliding across the interface. The screen flickered to life, casting a pale glow across her face. After a moment, she turned back to him. “Nothing. No records. No patterns. Their breeding sites are not in our data base.”
K’hall’s gaze shifted to Adrienne, then to Kayla. “Our data on the lizards is extensive—but it’s all tactical. Military deployments. Human infiltration and enslavement. Their reproductive infrastructure is a blind spot.”
Kayla stood stepping to the console. “I have coordinates of the nest location from my time. The Earth has changed—tectonic drift, submerged regions—but they might still point us in the right direction.”
She recited the coordinates, each number a location long lost. Bext entered them into the system, the screen flickering as it processed the data.
K’hall nodded. “Bext, cross-reference those coordinates with all known subterranean structures. Instruct every ship in the fleet to initiate deep scans of underground sectors. If there’s a nest buried beneath the surface, I want it found.”
Bext gave a crisp nod and turned back to the console, her fingers already summoning the fleet-wide command.
The room fell into a tense silence, broken only by the soft hum of scanners coming online.
K’hall ran his hand through his hair. “And now we wait for the scans and listen for your double to activate her device.”
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You can view Quantum Fold episodes in order from the beginning in her album titled, Quantum Fold:
www.flickr.com/photos/199076397@N02/albums/72177720326169...
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As I recover from shoulder surgery, I have assigned myself a big, major, huge project…and yes it concerns photography! My mission, should I decide to accept it (Mission Impossible reference) is to clean out and organize my 2TB external hard drive…that contains every digital photo that I have retained since 1985. The majority also have the RAW file associated with that photo attached. Files numbering in the tens of thousands that have been filed, misfiled, triple duplicated and thrown into folders as if I were dealing cards. My ADHD and sense of personal embarrassment will simply not allow this craziness to continue.
The blessing of this process is not just the discovery of photos long forgotten, but the memories contained. These files may well prove themselves to be priceless…not just for the memories depicted in the photos, but as a partner as I spent the next five weeks, the hours ahead fighting off my nemesis, boredom!
Here is one from a very good day…
You know that it was a very good day when you can remember everything about that day, the temperature, the warmth of the sun, the smell of a spring pasture and in this case anxiety of having to go to work when your best girl is about to give birth! It was the 13th of May, 2010 and our National Champion (Reserve Color Champion, 2006 AOBA Nationals) girl Rosalita was in labor. Joann and I both went to work to check in and start clearing the days schedule, both securing the day off with bosses and returning to the farm in record time.
A quick switch from work to farm cloths and a short trot to the front pasture found that Rosalita had already lost her mucus plug…her cria would be born anytime now. It was time to grab some lawn chairs, my camera and our birthing kit and just wait for things to progress. In the back of my mind, I prayed for a smooth, natural birth and that I would not have to put on the big gloves ever again and assist.
The next hour provided us with a memory of a lifetime as Giacomo would come into the world! A 19.2-pound male from Legend’s Challenger, at that time one of the top gray males in the country. The beauty of the moment, the cycle of life experience on such a beautiful May day is forever etched into my soul. Joann and I removed the remnants of the birth sack and dried our gift. The name Giacomo was chosen as it was in honor of my father who had passed some four years before. It was his childhood nickname and I know that it would have made him smile…like this photo does for me now as I utilize the editing program Lightroom to bring it to life.
This photo captures the bonding process/moment that alpaca mothers do just after birth. She gently takes her lips and nose and rub it against that of her cria, all the while making a clicking sound that bonds the two together for life. She will also use the same area to help her cria stay steady on its wabbly, minutes old legs.
What a blessing it is to witness not just the new physical body that God had created, but also the pure, palpable, natural love that was immediate between mother and son as well.
I didn’t know it then, but Giacomo would be the last cria born to us at Serene-n-Green Alpacas. In the early fall of 2010, a couple came to the farm and bought our last five alpacas, water buckets, farm name, logos, hay and trailer to start their own turn-key alpaca farm in Ohio.
Today, when anyone asks if I miss raising alpacas my response is immediate and direct. I miss birthing those babies!
Chase experiences, not things!
The St. Nicholas Hotel is a historic hotel building located in downtown Springfield. The original building of the St. Nicholas Hotel was constructed in 1855, and no longer exists. A 6-story annex, seen here to the right of the main building, was built on the hotel in 1910, and the current 11-story main building was constructed in 1924.
The Georgian Revival-style main building was designed by the New York City architectural firm H.L. Stevens and Company. When the current main building opened, it was the second-tallest building in Springfield after the State Capitol.
During sessions of the Illinois General Assembly, the St. Nicholas Hotel became a meeting place for Illinois politicians. The hotel has hosted many notable visitors to Springfield, including U.S. Presidents Harry S. Truman, Dwight D. Eisenhower, and John F. Kennedy.
In Illinois political lore, the St. Nicholas is best known as the residence of Paul Powell during his tenure from 1965 to 1970 as Illinois Secretary of State. Within days after his death in 1970, the executor of Powell's will found $750,000 in cash stored in shoeboxes, briefcases, and strongboxes in Powell's suite. Another $50,000 was found in his office. As the money greatly exceeded Powell's salary, which was at the most $30,000 per year, a federal investigation examined Powell's behavior while in office. The investigation determined that Powell had acquired the money via illegal cash bribes and led to the imprisonment of several state contractors.
The hotel was added to the National Register of Historic Places in 1983, and also is a contributing building to the Central Springfield Historic District. Today this historic hotel building is now the St. Nicholas Apartments.
What I really wanted to do was spend the day at home, catching up with normal life, pottering around the garden and planning what to plant where for the summer, and returning to the huge backlog of images from the trips to Madeira and the New Forest. After coming home from the latter a few days earlier I’d packed the van again the very next day to meet up with Mark and Wendy, our old hiking buddies who were touring Cornwall in their motorhome. By the time I returned home on Sunday afternoon I slumped onto the sofa and slept until tea time, woken by a text from my son in Wadebridge, who wanted to add another escapade to our friends’ visit the following day. My first reaction was to decline. I had plans for almost every day of the forthcoming week, and I really wanted a breather from life for twenty-four hours. But then it occurred to me that Tom’s time is far more precious than mine; he’d be back at work the following morning, and even though it was a bank holiday which means I usually hide in the garden, I said I’d be at his around noon, from where we’d push on to a couple of places that until now had always just been interesting looking dots on the map.
To start with, we headed for Port Isaac, home of TV’s Mr Grumpy, Doc Martin, a number of pasty hungry herring gulls and more than a smattering of bank holiday visitors. Only Wendy’s pasty came under attack, and fortunately for Tom and myself, it was of the vegetarian variety, so we didn’t feel obliged to share our steak filled options in recompense for failing to warn our friends about the likelihood of needing to repel airborne assaults. Following this, we spent the entire car parking allowance hunting for sea glass on the beach. Of course we did. What else would you do in a picture perfect postcard village riddled with pubs and ice cream parlours? “We’re looking for Sea Badger Droppings!” affects my son in a strangely Bristolian sounding accent whenever asked by strangers what they’re missing. The odd thing is he was born in Truro, so quite why he suddenly decides to sound like he’s the new tambourine player in The Wurzels for these moments is a question that remains unresolved. The fact that he believes for a moment even the most gullible tourist might fall for the ruse also requires further explanation. Surely everyone knows the Sea Badgers only ever leave the Isles of Scilly and come to the mainland for the mating season in the autumn?
And then we moved on to the bit I’d been looking forward to. Tom’s partner Rhi grew up in Tintagel, and had arranged to meet us later at Trebarwith Strand, her local childhood haunt after finishing her shift as a paramedic. We ate at the pub which sits above the water overlooking the sea, where I was so wrapped up in the prospect of the sunset shoot that I raced through my Waldorf Salad almost without reference to Fawlty Towers at all. I also failed to notice the presence of the famous face sitting at the opposite table; one who appeared in the locally filmed TV series mentioned above if you were wondering. Of course, I’d already done my homework, which mostly consisted of examining the weather and tide apps that tell me whether I should get excited, and then viewing a certain Mr Pedlar’s (you know him!) photos in these pages to see what to expect. And in a rare moment of perfect fusion, it seemed the gods were on my side. The high tide I'd anxiously coveted for this location would be just an hour before sunset and in the previously featureless sky, groups of fluffy clouds were gathering like old friends to hang in stillness over Gull Rock. My plate now clear of all the remaining Waldorfs, I raced down to the water’s edge like a child excused from the dinner table, only to find the plum spot taken by an interloper. I knew I should have brought a sandwich and refused to budge for two hours – naturally if I’d been here on a photography only mission rather than a social engagement that’s exactly what I would have done. Soon he was followed by three or four more tripod bearing togs, each competing for ground in a very limited space, and to add insult to injury not one of them appeared to be Mr Pedlar himself. It goes without saying that if Lee had been present they’d have seen him sharpening his famous elbows and all headed for the pub in varying states of fear for their personal safety to soak up restorative brandies in an instant, leaving me with only himself to contend with.
But high tide Trebarwith offers a secret weapon to the intrepid tripod wielder, in the form of a narrow ledge of rock to the left of the funnel where we were all standing. With a degree of care and the removal of the varifocals that suddenly become about as useful as a house made of cheese when looking at the space around my feet, I hopped across the stream that cuts through the rock shelf on its way to the sea. Finally I had the space I wanted, from where I could watch the rest of them fight for position on the other side of the divide. One of them decided to offer some counsel. “Take care down there. I once watched someone slip over on that bit, and when they carried him back to safety his kneecap wasn’t in the same place it had been when he first went down there.” I nodded and smiled. I’d already negotiated a section that the falling tide had uncovered and was all too aware of exactly how slippery the green and black areas that I’d so studiously avoided were. Two hours earlier, on the other side of high tide it had been bone dry here and the difference on the surface beneath my feet was all too palpable. I moved very slowly, just a few yards forward; every inch was undertaken with the utmost caution in my most grippy of hiking shoes, using the tripod as a makeshift walking stick until I reached a small crack in the rock above the receding sea that offered a bit of traction. Now I could concentrate on setting up the shot, waiting for those moments when an incoming wave washed back towards the sea, the brightness of the white water softening to an icy blue after the break. Above us, the dreamy shroud began to light from underneath as the sun, cloaked in a glorious bold and bright orange made its final bow. As long as I stayed on my feet, I might just get a shot. At least if I got it right, I wouldn’t have to take my chances here again on another visit. Probably.
I’ve often thought that pride is an unattractive trait, and blowing one’s own trumpet should be put to one side in favour of reluctant acceptance of a positive reaction from one’s peers where merited. But in this case, I have to admit I was rather excited about sharing the image, and the entire brass section, accompanied by an oboe, a couple of flutes and three very noisy recorders has been turned to full volume on presenting the final result. I like this shot rather a lot. In fact I'd go as far as to say it's one of my favourites. So much in fact that I’m going to get it printed and put it on the wall at home. Of course it’s pure luck really. It's not often that you turn up at a brand new location to conditions you never dared to hope for. Not often you get to take a shot that makes you this happy when you’re in the company of people who didn’t come here armed with tripods and bags full of camera gear.
The farewell was not long after I took this shot. Mark and Wendy were heading back to the campsite near Tintagel as their adventures in the beautiful county that we call home came towards a close. Tom and Rhi headed back to their home in Wadebridge and work the next day. For a while I sat at the wheel of my car and grinned into the fading light. Somewhere out on the water, a skulking pair of Sea Badgers grinned back as they slipped beneath the surface and began the long journey back to the Scillies.
The 1961 Chrysler 300G was the final year for fins on the 300, marking the end of Virgil Exner's FlightSweep designs, but they did go out in a grand way!
Chrysler's first-generation Letter Cars hammered the competition during the 1955-'56 NASCAR seasons. The full-size fliers then went on to set speed records at Daytona in '57, prior to both the AMA ban on motorsports and NASCAR's embargo on elaborate fuel delivery systems. In spite of those two apparent setbacks, Chrysler continued to improve its top-of-the- line V-8 engine as well as the now-legendary luxury performance machine that engine came wrapped in. So, the mighty Letter Cars thundered on, in production form, at the command of well-heeled owners seeking grown-up thrills. By 1961, Chrysler had moved up the alphabet to the letter "G."
The post-'57 Letter Cars were no longer eligible for circle track racing, but the 300G was still a force to be reckoned with in street trim, thanks to performance equipment that not only sounded good—413 cubic inches, Cross-Ram, dual four-barrels—but backed it up with 375 or an optional 400 horsepower, delivering a 0-60-mph time of 8.2 seconds (Motor Life, April 1961). Though not the fastest time turned by contemporary road test periodicals, it occurred during a period when most full-size cars could barely achieve 60 mph in less than 10 or 11 seconds while simultaneously maintaining an air of luxury.
Today, the 1961 300G is among the legion of groundbreaking Mopar performance cars, respected for its stunning combination of power and styling. Its value is bolstered by low production numbers— just 1,280 hardtops and 337 convertibles were built. These cars remain in the upper stratosphere of postwar American collector cars, but prices in recent years have held steady. Is this your time to grab one of the few remaining pieces of Letter Car history? Here's what you should keep in mind when you begin to shop.
The Cross-Ram Induction system's 30-inch "Long Rams" hide the big 413 V-8 from view.
Engines
Chrysler engineers specified a 413-cu.in. wedge to go under the hood of every 300G. Introduced into the RB-Series of V-8s in 1959, the 413 had a 4.18-inch bore and a 3.75-inch stroke with a forged-steel crankshaft. Compression was advertised as 10.1:1 and the cylinder heads breathed through 2.08/1.60-inch intake/exhaust valves, while a .430-inch lift, 268-degree camshaft dictated valve action. Also included was a pair of Carter AFB four-barrel carburetors. There were, however, two versions of the 413 installed, which were differentiated by the intake manifolds.
Referred to as Ram Induction and initially appearing in 1960, the elongated aluminum intakes were designed based on much older principles involving resonance and its effect on a compression wave of, in this case, the fuel/air mixture. Though we won't go into greater depth regarding the physics here, intake tube length had a direct effect on the timing of the fuel delivery, or ramming, into each cylinder bore, maximizing engine output at certain rpm ranges.
A pair of Carter AFB four-barrel carburetors provide the fuel/air mix.
With these basics in mind, expansion of midrange output was the main target of the base 300G 413 and the engineers thus calculated 30-inch runners would be ideal. Referred to as the Long Ram intakes, they were designed to fit neatly under the hood and crisscross (hence the Cross Ram moniker) over the top of the engine, each fitted with a single four-barrel carburetor at the outboard location. In this configuration, the engine hit 375 hp at 5,000 rpm and 495 lb-ft of torque at 2,800 rpm, effectively providing passing power on demand without sacrificing full-throttle acceleration.
Optional was the high-performance Short Ram version. Though this intake system looked identical to the Long Ram at first blush, the separate internal runners measured only 15 inches in length, raising the engine's power band and enabling it to make peak horsepower at 5,200 rpm, with peak torque at 3,600 rpm. This meant that Chrysler's advertised Short Ram ratings were 400 hp and 465 lb-ft of torque.
Visually, a keen eye can spot the difference between the Long and Short Ram intakes. The Long Rams feature a visible valley between each pair of runners for the entire length; they also have a seven-digit casting number that begins with "19." Short Rams sport only a partial valley between runners; their seven-digit casting number begins with "21." Finally, Short Ram 413 engines were designed for those more interested in straight-line contests and are therefore the rarer of the two.
Transmissions
Backing either engine was the already-durable 727 TorqueFlite automatic, which was issued as standard equipment. Like other Chryslers of the day, the three-speed unit was shifted via pushbutton on the dash; it contained first and second gear ratios of 2.45:1 and 1.45:1, respectively. Replacing the French-made four-speed on the option chart was a floor-shifted three-speed manual, which is a relative rarity today. First and second gear ratios were 2.55:1 and 1.49:1; the two gears were not synchronized, making for some uncomfortable downshifts for the uninitiated. Furthermore, contemporary road tests complained of a long second-to-third gate while hinting that the better performer in transferring torque to the differential was the TorqueFlite.
Swivel front seats, upholstered in ventilated leather, were standard on the 300G.
Differential
The final transfer point for the torque from either engine was a standard 8.-inch open differential with semi-floating axles and a 3.23:1 final drive ratio, although some printed material suggests that a 3.15:1 ratio was employed when the three-speed manual was installed. While this unit was known for its durability, dealers were also able to provide a number of more highway-friendly or performance-oriented grear ratios, even if the optional Sure-Grip (positive traction) unit was installed on the assembly line.
Contemporary magazines reported an average mpg rating of 9 to 13 with a three-speed/3.23 arrangement, yet in terms of power off the line, both Motor Trend (8.3-second 0-60 mph) and Motor Life (8.2 seconds) stated that the 300G had more acceleration potential waiting to be unleashed if geared accordingly.
The center console provided some storage and housed a tachometer.
Chassis
Each 300G hardtop and convertible was derived from the New Yorker, which meant they shared the same basic unit-body/subframe platform and 126-inch wheelbase; however, the similarities were limited beyond that. For instance, though an independent front torsion bar suspension system was used, the 44 x 1.08-inch torsion bars were thicker and 40 percent stiffer than those on other Chryslers, rated for 175 lb-in. The same can be said of the rear semi-elliptic leaf-sprung suspension, rated for 135 lb-in (or 50 percent stiffer) than those on the New Yorker. For reference, the rear springs were comprised of seven leaves, measuring 60 x 2.50 inches. Power steering, with its 15.7:1 gear ratio, was also standard equipment, as were heavy-duty shocks.
In short, the chassis was engineered and better suited for high-speed highway travel and maneuverability rather than a short drive across the city. It could also handle short, quarter-mile blasts if, as discussed, geared accordingly.
Brakes
Although equipment upgrades were made in other areas, the hydraulic drum-brake system was the same as found in the New Yorker series. Drum brakes, measuring 12 x 2.50-inches, were utilized at each corner. Power assist was standard, so stopping the roughly 4,200-pound performer was easier; however, as with other drumbrake systems, each corner needed to be adjusted equally to prevent directional pull during sudden stops. Additionally, Chrysler employed two wheel cylinders per front assembly—a fact to keep in mind when seeking replacement parts.
Wheels and Tires
Unlike the previous 300F, the new 300G was bestowed with larger 15 x 6-inch pressed-steel wheels, which were then shod with 8.00-15 Goodyear Blue Streak "racing-type" tires that featured white sidewalls. According to one report, the width of the whitewall itself ranged from 3- to 3 3/16-inches. Vented "300" wheel covers completed the ensemble, and no options were available.
Body and Interior
Styling updates made to the '61 Chryslers, including the 300G, probably did more to generate higher sales than printed virtues touting the fleet's combination of power and comfort, marking the end of Virgil Exner's FlightSweep designs. The changes began with a complete revamp of the front end, where the grille was simply inverted. The top-to-bottom inward canted grille sides were harmoniously complemented by equally canted quad headlamps, running lamps, and bumper ends, while also matching the angle of the rear fins— which were also slightly redesigned. At the opposite end, the faux spare tire decklid inlay was scrapped, providing a cleaner expanse of sleek sheetmetal. Other than appropriate badging denoting the letter "G," little else appeared to change on the 219.8-inch-long body; the greenhouse and rear fenders were carry-over items, with the exception of the leading edge of the fins found on each door.
Interiors remained exquisitely plush. A full-length, front-to-rear tunneled center console divided the interior in two, creating four truly individual buckets seats wrapped in ventilated leather. Those front seats retained the swivel feature, making for easy ingress/egress, while the console was trimmed with ample amounts of chrome and padded armrests that flipped open to expose additional storage areas. The console also housed optional power window controls, ashtrays, and a tachometer.
Primary instruments resided in a dome-like, easy-to-read bubble; potential glare concerns were eliminated by means of a matching padded dash arch. The transmission's pushbutton controls resided to the left of the instrument cluster, balanced by radio, heat, and air controls to the right. Comfort and convenience options included power seats, power antenna, rear window defroster, and air conditioning.
Source: Hemmings
Anticlines and Sinclines, sedimentary rocks showing signs of massive folding and uplifting during an ancient and very turbulent time in the building of the earths crust, at Hartland point in north Devon.
Hartland Point to Hartland Quay
Nearest town: Hartland
OS grid reference: SS 230277 – SS 222247
Status: AONB, SSSI, SAC.
Management: Private landowners
Lying within North Devon Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty, this stretch of coastline is one of the most dramatic in the British Isles. Breathtaking coastal scenery and wonderful cliff top walks are all to be found.
Here in the cliffs and foreshore you can view spectacular evidence of geological events which took place over 300 million years ago. The rocks are sandstones and mudstones that were laid down around 320 million years ago in what was then a brackish sea. Of particular interest are the striking patterns that can be seen in the faces of the cliffs. These tell a dramatic story of ancient forces that have helped to shape the Earth as we see it today.
About 300 million years ago, during a period of tectonic plate collision, tremendous pressure was exerted on the rocks of South West England. So powerful were these forces that the rocks were actually compressed like a concertina, producing a range of spectacular folds and faults that are visible today. These can be clearly seen in the cliffs to the north of Hartland Quay and a walk along the cliff top towards Hartland Point provides good views (if the tide is out) of the complex patterns of sandstone ribs produced on the foreshore by the folding.
2. GEOLOGICAL DETAIL
The extensive outcrop of Carboniferous strata across central Devon used to be known as the Culm, a term that is still used today in ‘the Culm grasslands’. The name derives
from the sooty coal that was mined in a few adits near Bideford in the nineteenth century. Consequently the name ‘Culm Measures’ was formerly applied to the sandstone and shale sequence in which it was found, being roughly equivalent to the Coal Measures found in South Wales. Carboniferous strata were deposited between about 360 to 300 million years ago, following on over the older underlying Devonian rocks. In South Wales, the Midlands and Northern England and Scotland, and across Europe, the Carboniferous strata was characterised by the occurrence of large coal deposits of economic importance. Coal Measures were found in the upper parts, with the Millstone Grit and Carboniferous Limestone beneath. However, the coal seams that were the foundation of Britain’s wealth in the nineteenth century were absent from Devon, so the county therefore failed to benefit from the mineral wealth.
In Devon, despite careful searching in the early days, no economic coal was found, because the sediments had been laid down in a sea instead of in tree-choked coal swamps. Here the succession is dominated by marine shales and sandstones, in several formations that are quite similar to each other. Moreover, spectacular folding of the strata can be seen on the west coast and at places inland. Limestone is present in northeast Devon, and sparingly in other parts. Basaltic lavas and layers of volcanic ash are common within the shales, and other igneous rocks, mainly dolerite, are also found.
A large part of central Devon is underlain by Carboniferous strata, predominantly hard grey sandstone layers with grey shale in between, which are intensely folded along
east–west trends. The outcrop, up to about 45km wide, extends eastward from the Atlantic coast in a broad band as far as Exeter and Tiverton, where it disappears
beneath Permian red beds. On the west coast, the cliffs show a spectacular series of folds trending east–west, mainly upright and including some V-shaped and zig-zag
folds, the result of the Variscan earth movements that began in the Devonian and lasted until the Permian.
In Carboniferous times, coals were formed in swamps in South Wales, with massive deltaic sandstones and shales interbedded with the coal seams. But the sandstone and
shales of the Devon area look very different – in the early days of geology, this caused much uncertainty and dispute as to their relative age. Ultimately it was realised that
rivers flowing from the Welsh mountains formed deltas and delta swamps on its southern continental margin. The sea into which they flowed lay where Devon now is,
with fine sediment carried down by the rivers settling on the sea floor as shales. Sand from the deltas periodically swept down to deposit layers up to 1m thick over a wide
area – these sandstones are often termed greywackes. These rapid flows of intermixed sediment and water are called turbidity currents because they were carried in turbid
water. Evidence of the violence of the flow can be seen on the undersides of the sandstone layers as ripples, vortices and grooves caused by the ripping-up of the muddy sea bed as the overlying sand was deposited; and as the sand hardened to rock, these features were preserved as casts.
For more than 100 million years there was a vast process of mountain building over South West England – during the Devonian and Carboniferous periods (about 400 to
300 million years ago) and into the early Permian period. Caused by the collision of moving plates of the Earth’s crust – known as ‘plate tectonics’ or ‘continental drift’ –
deep troughs (or basins) formed below the narrowing sea and received vast volumes of sediments from the erosion of the nearby continents – from land to the north (Wales and
North America) and to the south. The sand and mud sediments became deeply buried and turned into rocks, which were then folded and contorted and thrust up into
mountains by the dynamic collision of the continental plates. This continued for over 100 million years, during which many kilometres thickness of rocks were formed (slates,
mudstones, sandstones, etc). Great reefs of limestones formed along shallow sea ridges and there were also large volcanoes producing volcanic rocks (basalts, tuffs) and
sills of dolerite. Later, molten granitic magmas were created deep beneath the mountains to form the granites of Dartmoor and Cornwall. This long period of earth movements and mountain building is known as the ‘Variscan Orogeny’. It created a range of high mountains across modern South West England (similar to the modern Alps, Atlas and Rockies), extending from eastern Europe to North America. The older Carboniferous strata, transitional from the underlying Devonian, include chert beds, which are flinty deep-sea deposits, interbedded with dark shale. Thin beds of limestone are also present, and the sequence is known as the Meldon Chert Formation at Meldon Quarry, near Okehampton, with shale, quartzite and volcanics. These extend in a curving outcrop around the north margin of the Dartmoor Granite, apparently shouldered aside by the granite as it intruded the surrounding rocks. In north Devon the equivalent sequence is the Codden Hill Chert, which overlies the Pilton Shale which
also is transitional from the Devonian. Limestones at Westleigh and Bampton, in the northeast of the county, also belong to the early Carboniferous and are about the same
age as the famous shallow-water Carboniferous Limestone of Wales, the Mendips and central England, though in Devon the limestones were deposited in deeper water.
Above these basal sequences, alternating beds of sandstone and shale characterise most of the Carboniferous sediment thickness in Devon. It is possible to divide these
into three major formations, named after localities on the west coast but widespread across the county. These are, in ascending order, the Crackington, Bideford and Bude
formations, although there is some overlap between the last two. The Crackington shows abundant evidence of deep-water deposition, with extensive turbidity marks on
the undersides of sandstone beds, but the other two formations show evidence of being deposited in shallower seas or lakes, the Bude Formation in particular showing massive sandstone beds with some slumped sediment that might have been caused by earthquake shocks affecting loose sediment. The presence of ripple marks suggests an intertidal or lacustrine environment, and there are also many arthropod trails, made by primitive lobster-like or crab-like creatures.
Away from the main outcrop in north and central Devon, Carboniferous rocks are also found to the east and west of Dartmoor in what are often referred to as the Southern
Successions. Pebbles of igneous rocks and volcanic ash occur in the lower parts of these successions, indicating a source to the south, and coarser to conglomeratic beds higher up are called the Ugbrooke Sandstone which contains pebbles with Lower Carboniferous fossils – indicating that some tectonic activity was occurring to the south at the time, eroding recently-deposited sediments.
There was a complex history of igneous activity in south Devon, with lava flows and thick accumulations of volcanic ash, together with dykes and sills, notably in the Teign Valley. Thick ash deposits together with dolerite dykes are found at Meldon Quarry, where they are utilised for railway ballast and various grades of aggregate and roadstone. This area was also affected by the Dartmoor Granite, that heated the adjacent rocks as it cooled in the late Carboniferous/early Permian.
At the border of the high Padan Plain, just at the feet of the first line of the Prealps, there lays a string of five lakes. They draw a line that is the base of the so-called Larian triangle, i.e. the triangle-shaped mountainous land between the two arms of the Lake Como (also called Lario). These lakes, often called the Lakes Briantei, or the Brianza Lakes (from the name of that land, Brianza), are way smaller than the Lario and the other great lakes of Northern Italy - just a string of beads in the higher plain - but they share the beauty of their larger cousins, although on a smaller, more intimate scale. I have always felt quite strongly the fascination of their common origin, which dates from the end of the Würm glaciation, some 11,700 years ago. I can easily see in my mind the enormous, mighty glaciers from the Alps flowing beyond the last mountains and spreading through the high plain. A powerful sight, indeed... Yet all that glory was deemed to end as the climate was becoming warmer, and eventually the glaciers began to recede, leaving behind deep ditches and huge semilunar terminal morains. You can easily fill in the story - the melting waters, the swamps, the debris from the looming mountains, and, eventually, the lakes.
Well, this is not a lesson in geology - I am by no means an expert, just a guy who perceives geology in a very emotional way (quite possibly a trait acquired from my late father, who was a passionate amateur mineral and fossil prospector). I have begun a photographic exploration of those relics of the last glaciation, the Lakes Briantei. At sunrise, of course.
My second (and last, for now) session was at the Lake Alserio, a small, rather shallow one (its average depth is 5,4 m (17,7 ft)). Yet it is a very fascinating lake, completely surrounded by a variety of natural habitats that has always hindered urban development in the close vicinity of the lake. Its placid waters are rich in waterlilies and birds of all kinds. The sky was crowded with clouds, again, and the vaguest hints of a light rain had tried to deter me from my purpose. I realised quite soon that the apparent compactness of the clouds was not real, so I hoped that the sunrise would have gifted me with something interesting.
Then lo, the whole world tinted in pink. The amazing effect lasted a handful of minutes, just enough to shoot two or three exposure bracketings: the sky was imbued with a rosy light, and everything under it as well. This magic moment was the first gift of that morning and I have done my best to capture its beauty as a gift for everyone who will enjoy it.
Explored on 2022/09/07 #19
As for the title, I must confess that in my mind echoes Satchmo's 1950 version rather than Edith Piaf's... However, feel free to love whatever version you like best!
For those of you who were a bit offended by my references to the out-of-the-frame Resegone* in the text of my previous post, The calm after the storm: here the sun is rising just over that mountain - you can make out its distinctive, saw-like long line of summits partially shrouded with clouds.
* This strange name means "the great saw", the word "resega" meaning "saw" in the Lombard dialects. It is a mountain towering over the city of Lecco and the southern end of Lake Como, characterised by a long line of Triassic dolomite summits, the teeth of the saw). It is featured in Manzoni's renowned historical novel, The Bethroted, most prominently in the famous passage from chapter 8 known as Farewell to the mountains.
I have processed this picture by blending an exposure bracketing [-2.0/-1.0/0/+1.0/+2.0 EV] by luminosity masks with the Gimp (EXIF data, as usual, refer to the "normal" exposure shot).
Along the journey - post-processing always is a journey of discovery to me - I tried the inverted RGB blue channel technique described by Boris Hajdukovic to give a slight tonal boost to the reflections. As usual, I gave the finishing touches with Nik Color Efex Pro 4.
Raw files processed with Darktable.
Hasselblad 501CM, Planar 100 with extension tube, yellow filter.
FP4 in Pyro 48.
Fomatone 132 batch 079648-06,
two tray development:
1st SE5 Lith (A+B+D+water) 50+50+50+1000ml 3 mins.
2nd Pyrocatechol 15ml + Lith B 15ml + NH4Cl 20% 5ml + water 800ml 3 mins.
Gegenüber dem vorherigen Beispiel ist hier der zweite Entwickler etwas anders abgestimmt, aber auch bei völlig identischer Verarbeitung ist das matte Papier (132) immer etwas farbiger als das glänzende (131).
Compared to the previous example, the second developer is slightly different here, but even with completely identical processing, the matte paper (132) is always slightly more colourful than the glossy paper.
The current batches show the desired results in the lith printing process, but it should be noted that the snowball problem still persists with long development times (over 6–8 minutes).
I described the strategy for avoiding undesirable structures some time ago (Dec. 2023).
For easier reference, I have added the instructions for the three lith developer variants to my website.
Back at my campsite I went over my options for the day while eating breakfast. No matter what I decided to do, eventually I would end up going into Yosemite National Park via Donahue Pass and my eventual goal was a very narrow lake that lay in the footprint of the Lyell Glacier. I decided on a cross country route from here to there between a hill and a peak. I also decide to make it a day hike since I would be coming back tomorrow anyways and taking my pack was just extra work.
Soon I was on my way. After crossing Rush creek I slowly navigated up steep slopes and slabs, doing my own switchbacks to make the ascent less steep. Once I reached the saddle between the hill and the peak the route became easier. Here atop the saddle were two small, unnamed tarns, reflecting the deep blue sky. I decided to unofficially name them myself, Sky Mirror Ponds, if anything it would just be for easy reference.
Moving on the landscape became more flat as I contoured the mountainside. There was another unnamed lake that I wanted to reach on my way to the pass. To find this like I followed the sound of water flowing under rocks. Soon the much larger lake appeared resting beneath a split peak. I refilled my water here and continued. I wasn't more than 30 steps way from this other lake when in my mind a voice said, “Hey, look down, you might miss something.” I stopped and looked down. Right at my feet was a big beautiful arrowhead. Excited and in awe of the discovery, I picked it up, thanked whom ever helped me find it and thanked the person and peoples who made it, I also took time to thank the mountains and the lake I had just fill up my water at. I took a little more time to admire the craftsmanship of the arrowhead and I put it back on the earth, near where I had been told to look, though more hidden than when we found it. I decided to also unofficially name this lake too, Arrowhead Lake.
From here I finished climbing Donahue Pass and took a long rest. (11085 ft) When I was ready I went down the other side into Yosemite. I came to a beautiful tarn and creek. From here I left the trail again to follow the creek up to my destination. The valley floor was paved in glacier polished granite with large boulders strewn haphazardly about. To my left (South) rose a towering ridge of stone, that was an offshoot of the Cathedral Range. From here I could see the tallest peak in Yosemite, Mt. Lyell at 13,114 ft or 3,997m and Mt. Maclure, the fifth-highest mountain of Yosemite at 12,886ft or 3,928 m. This was also the headwaters of the Tuolumne River.
I explored a bit of this valley and also just sat and absorbed the scenery and energy of the place. Unfortunately I couldn't fully enjoy it due to the commercial airplanes flying over at regular intervals. Places like this, National Parks, Designated Wilderness Areas, National Forests, all paces set aside by the Wilderness Act to preserve the natural beauty of the landscape for future generations should really be no fly zones. To only preserve what the eye can see isn't enough, we need to preserve the quite places and natural soundscapes as well otherwise we have only gone halfway.
As the sun sank lower and the shadows stretched I headed over to the spot I had picked out for sunset photos. As the light grew pink on the peaks I took the photo that I had come here for.
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Manarola is the second of the five hamlets found in Cinque Terre, a collection of tiny fishing villages perched along the Ligurian Coast. The tiny harbor at Manarola features a boat ramp, picturesque buildings tripping down the ravine and the town's swimming hole. Although there is no real beach here, it has some of the best deep-water swimming around.
Perched on a steep cape of dark rock, with its small port enclosed by two rocky boulders, a village of ancient origins found by the inhabitants of the (probably Roman) Volastra settlement. Manarola, like the other Cinque Terre villages, is known for its tower-houses; the layout of the village develops around the subsurface course of the Groppo stream which marks out its main axis. From the sunken stream a series of narrow stone-paved streets lead off towards houses and vegetable gardens on both sides of the cape. Parallel to the main axis runs the Via di Mezzo (Middle Street) that used to be a particularly important byway before the stream was covered over. Above the houses there lies an interesting square in which all the religious buildings are located. Another peculiarity of Manarola is a pyramid in white cement whose peak can be seen rising between the taller houses and is used as a navigational reference point for all those at sea.
Camera Model: Canon EOS 5D Mark II; Lens: EF17-40mm f/4L USM; Focal length: 29.00 mm; Aperture: 16; Exposure time: 30.0 s; ISO: 100
All rights reserved - Copyright © Lucie Debelkova www.luciedebelkova.com
All images are exclusive property and may not be copied, downloaded, reproduced, transmitted, manipulated or used in any way without expressed, written permission of the photographer.
Macro Mondays theme: Dice
I left behind a huge collection of these when I came here 27 years ago and the only others I know of in this house are in a still sealed Garfield Monopoly set -- we are both too competitive to risk actually playing a game together!
This is the first origami I have attempted since I hurt my hand which is still healing but MUCH better than it was. Using scraps next to my chair I kept folding smaller pieces to get the size down without actually measuring and doing math. The pair I chose are not matched. I did one folding a long strip from a video but couldn't duplicate the size with half a hand, so the second one is a Paul Jackson cube (as are all the ones in the reference photo). I learned that folding the modular section in thirds (the smaller yellow one) gives the die more stability. The dots are painted on with a Sharpie and each olive green die is approximately 1/2 inch to a side.
HMM
1965 Coal Railroading-101
The head brakeman on L&N Extra 350 South on December 30, 1965 appears to have some “whiskers” on the seniority roster from the looks of his weathered face. His train is easing down in speed at Loyall, Ky. to allow him to swing off and handle the ground work. Behind the four Alcos up front are 190 empty coal hoppers out of Corbin—a rather long drag even by today’s standards. For the last 68 miles the train has been mostly following the bends and twists of the division’s namesake, the Cumberland River past Barbourville—maintaining a steady pace of 35 to 40 MPH. Despite meets with through freight No. 66 at Pineville, and the Loyall-Varilla mine run at Blackmont, the extra has seen nothing but clear signals.
That piece of paper sticking out of the head brakeman’s jacket pocket is very important. At Corbin, some nameless clerk walked these cars with a several blank switch lists and a few sharp No. 2 L&N “Today is Safety Day” lead pencils. All 190 cars were listed but broken into three groups. The “head” 60 will be set off here for the several mine runs some cars to spot at the many active tipples on the branches radiating off this end of the CV Division. The next 30 are destined for the International Harvester tipple at Benham, Ky., halfway between Cumberland and Lynch, at the end of the Poor Fork Branch. These two groups totaling 90 cars are “commons”—mineral red L&N 50, 60, and 70-ton steel hoppers.
The last 100 cars are fairly new 100-ton L&N hoppers painted bright orange, designating their dedicated use on these trains. Extra 350 South is the “day” Lynch Turn. On the way back home to Corbin that night as Extra 306 North, the crew will meet Extra 355 South, the “night” Lynch at the long siding at Barbourville, Ky., plus “C&M 2,” at Baileys. That’s a mine run for the Cumberland & Manchester branch.
Before two-way radio, the engineer had to be a good judge of how far to go to allow the brakeman to make a cut at, say, the 40, 50, 60, or more car point. Old heads on these runs had their own “landmarks” in mind to have a good idea of where to stop. On this day, though, the brakeman has one of the new-fangled “walkie-talkie” radios, so he’ll talk him down to the point where he should cut off the first 60 cars. He counts the cars and references his switch list looking for the last car in the cut.
After the cut is made, he rides the end of the car to the switch where the crossover between the two mains will allow him to access the old southward main, and then the junction switch into the yard. The operator in the yard office will line the crossover for his move.
The cars are left in one of the clear tracks of 17 in the terminal at Loyall. The power is uncoupled and the brakeman keys the mic on the radio. “Outside, Lynch Man…” Back on the train, the joint is made, the brakes pumped off, and Extra 350 South is ready to depart. The operator has a Clearance Form A with three train orders for the head end crew. He’ll use the bamboo order hoop to deliver the same documents to the conductor when the caboose passes. At the old tower at Baxter, about 4500 feet ahead, the red over green “Clear-Medium” tells the engineer the Poor Fork Branch is now his, except for a mine run working on the Scotia Branch out of Cumberland. That crew has a wait order at Cumberland for Extra 350 South, so the Lynch Man has more than enough time to get to Cumberland and continue to Lynch, out of the way of the mine run.
After the wooden caboose disappears around the curve at the south end of the yard, Loyall is quiet once again---until the next train. Technology and unimaginable changes in virtually every aspect of life will bring changes. Within a decade, the L&N will be facing an epic demand for the movement of coal. That will continue until it abates and traffic dwindles to a comparative trickle. History happens every nanosecond. Photograph it and pay attention to the details.
www.ywt.org.uk/reserves/kilnsea-wetlands-nature-reserve
This new nature reserve has been created to compensate for habitat being lost nearby on the eroding Holderness coastline.
Update: Footpath works from the Kilnsea Wetlands car park to the hide are due to start week commencing the 11th July. These works are being conducted by Environment Agency to improve the surface of the path. The intention of the works is to test a small test area to see how the additional material binds, if satisfactory the works will continue along the rest of the path. The footpath will be closed for approximately 5 days from Monday 11th July.
Kilnsea Wetlands is intended to provide refuge for passage and wintering roosting waders that leave the adjacent Humber mudflats at high tide to roost. Golden and grey plovers, knot, dunlin, sanderling and bar-tailed godwit should all benefit from this safe refuge. A variety of habitats will provide the conditions needed to support these birds, but this will take a number of years to reach its full potential.
Freshwater and saline pools with islands and spits and wet grassland with seasonal scrapes will provide this site with roosting and feeding locations, but also hopefully he right conditions in the spring for breeding oystercatcher, ringed plover and lapwing.
Top Tip:
A visit in autumn or winter will give you a chance to see large numbers of roosting waders which this site has been specifically designed for. Check the tides to coincide your visit with high tide and you’re likely to see greater numbers.
Engineering is only the start of this process – the nature reserve is to be managed in a sustainable manner using local livestock. This location is one of the driest parts of the UK, and without the ability to bring water on to the site from surrounding areas, functionality of the habitat will rely very much on rainfall and groundwater levels.
Farmland birds including corn bunting and tree sparrow may well use the nature reserve as it develops. In time the grassland should become established and we hope this will provide some botanical value and interest, in turn supporting a host of insects including dragonflies.
Salt-tolerant plant species such as spiral tassel weed may well find a home here too.
A hide, viewing screen, and off road parking, long with a footpath route through the nature reserve leading to Yorkshire Wildlife Trust’s Blue Bell Cafeé in Kilnsea mean this site is ideal for a visit
Discover Yorkshire’s Wildlife
Yorkshire Wildlife Trust’s Discover Yorkshire’s Wildlife book, which has detailed information on all of Yorkshire Wildlife and Sheffield Wildlife Trust’s reserves, is available to buy now from our online shop.
Public Transport
The Spurn Ranger bus from Hull stops in Kilnsea.
Directions
Approach Kilnsea on Easington Road. The car park is on your left just after you go over the left hand bend which rises over Long Bank and before you reach Kilnsea village.
Other information
There is a dipping platform available for arranged visits. Please do not walk along Long Bank to the north of the nature reserve to avoid flushing the birds. Paths are unsurfaced. Toilets are located in Kilnsea.
Reserve information
Location
Easington Road
Kilnsea
East Yorkshire
HU12 0UD
Map reference
TA 405 167
Great for...
a family day out
birdwatching
overwintering birds
Opening Times
Open at all times.
Facilities
Cafe
Toilets
Size
35.00 hectares
Access
Yes
Contact the Trust for disabled access information. Toilets are located in Kilnsea.
Walking information
Paths are unsurfaced.
Parking
yes
Dogs
Dogs must be on lead
Grazing animals
The nature reserve is to be managed sustainably using local livestock.
Reserve manager
Yorkshire Wildlife Trust
Tel: 01904 659570
info@ywt.org.uk
Here is a young Barn Owl emerging from a tree nest a few miles from my home in the West Yorkshire Pennines. The altitude was 200m (c650 feet) above sea level which is relevant as Barn Owls are primarily a lowland owl as they are not good at surviving where there is prolonged snow-cover, like the uplands. So Barn Owls usually only appear on the high ground after a run of mild winters Historically Barn Owls could survive snow by feeding on rats and mice inside barns. But rodenticides and grain silos mean the food isn't as plentiful so their chance of survival in a snowy winter is less. I looked at the populations of the British owls on the BTO website www.bto.org/understanding-birds/birdfacts/find-a-species and it surprised me. Tawny is the commonest with 50,000 pairs with Barn Owl second at 9000 pairs. Perhaps the next commonest will surprise many as it is Long-eared Owl with 3900 with Little Owl close on its heels with 3600 pairs. Little Owl also surprised me as I expected it to be commoner than Barn Owl as it certainly is near me. Finally comes Short-eared Owl with a quoted population of 1410 pairs. But Short-eared is almost totally dependent on Short-tailed Voles as prey, which have population cycles. So in boom vole years Short-eared Owls can be common while after bust years they are rare.
John Ray wrote the first proper bird book in the English language in 1678 (though he published the same work in Latin two years earlier). There were earlier books that referenced birds, often with a more general natural history theme, but Ray's was the first devoted to birds. In this first bird book Ray gave three names to this species; "The common Barn-Owl, or White-Owl, or Church-Owl". So one name referred to its unique owl colour, and two referred to its habitat preferences. Interestingly Ray gave the name "Ivy-Owl" as an alternative to our Tawny Owl, and I usually find them roosting in Ivy. The next major work on birds was Thomas Pennant in 1768, though it was a more general work on Zoology. Pennant coined the term warbler used for so many of our birds, and he often led the way for the selection of the accepted British name. But Pennant backed the wrong horse in this instance and chose White Owl. Later authors were reluctant to lose Barn Owl and often kept both names, such as William Yarrell in 1843. He listed both names but in his text showed a clear preference for Barn Owl, and the BOU officially adopted Barn Owl in 1883. So that is why a bird that nests freely in holes in trees, nest boxes on posts, and a variety of old buildings, has become linked to barns. Before I leave the names, the name Screech Owl was widely used and pre-dates Ray as it was first used in 1593. And Barn Owl does indeed screech. Have a listen on xeno-canto: www.xeno-canto.org/604167 , but the name Screech Owl has been adopted for different species of owl in America.
Please view large using the new Flickr interface or Better View
Technical: Nikon D3x, CPL, 0.45x GND, 25s at f16, 36mm
This is a very special place tucked deep in the interior of Iceland and taken at "sunset", or midnight. I spent the night here and although the area is quite barren it is photographically speaking one of tremendous reward.
The subterranean activity of this thermal haven allows for wonderful long exposures as thermal mist seamlessly blends with the clouds leaving an impression of timelessness. At least that is my perception.
Conditions were extremely bizarre at the specific point I went for this shot and which make it different from a similar post At the beginning. Dancing pink hues mixed with the clouds, the steam and some reflected light. Wind speeded the movement and rising fumes heavily obscured the background. Some openings let the deep blue sky paint other areas. Such that as much as the result is intriguing it was impossible to foresee the final image as opposed to my other shot. Rewards come in different ways.
This picture is also an introduction to a future post, the subject of which is easy to guess. What I like about this image is the absence of any reference, be it time or place. It takes me to a place I have never known, back to Earth's fundamentals, it's Elemental nature. I have possibly dreamt of this image and associating what can not have been, found a sanctuary here after being pursued by some Tyrannosaurus Rex. I just don't know if this was a good or a bad dream.
Please take the time to leave a comment, an impression, a thought, always appreciated.
Check out the set as it grows:
- "I remember the mist of our ancient past"
What do you think?
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Manarola is the second of the five hamlets found in Cinque Terre, a collection of tiny fishing villages perched along the Ligurian Coast. The tiny harbor at Manarola features a boat ramp, picturesque buildings tripping down the ravine and the town's swimming hole. Although there is no real beach here, it has some of the best deep-water swimming around.
Perched on a steep cape of dark rock, with its small port enclosed by two rocky boulders, a village of ancient origins found by the inhabitants of the (probably Roman) Volastra settlement. Manarola, like the other Cinque Terre villages, is known for its tower-houses; the layout of the village develops around the subsurface course of the Groppo stream which marks out its main axis. From the sunken stream a series of narrow stone-paved streets lead off towards houses and vegetable gardens on both sides of the cape. Parallel to the main axis runs the Via di Mezzo (Middle Street) that used to be a particularly important byway before the stream was covered over. Above the houses there lies an interesting square in which all the religious buildings are located. Another peculiarity of Manarola is a pyramid in white cement whose peak can be seen rising between the taller houses and is used as a navigational reference point for all those at sea.
Camera Model: Canon EOS 5D Mark II; Lens: EF17-40mm f/4L USM; Focal length: 32.00 mm; Aperture: 9.0; Exposure time: 30.0 s; ISO: 200
All rights reserved - Copyright © Lucie Debelkova www.luciedebelkova.com
All images are exclusive property and may not be copied, downloaded, reproduced, transmitted, manipulated or used in any way without expressed, written permission of the photographer.
long stories shortened... (discarded and abandoned and intertwined short stories) well..actually they are chunks and fragmets and notes of stories that never made it
____________________________________________
a young PhD math candidate writing his dissertation on an obscure arab mathematician from the middle ages who specialized in cycles and periods in infinite series and develops a process to determine prime number density in a large number space. (which is all and good) except this makes it an excellent tool to decrypting military grade encryption, which is based on the computational difficulty of factoring large numbers into their prime components
the arab mathematician was ultimately censured by the religious mullahs for developing tools to rationalize the infinite, which is of course the nature of Allah and for man to attempt to place Allah into a human scale is blasphemy
so the arab mathematician disappears and the young phd candidate finds that his dissertation has been suspended pending review but cant get any information on who is reviewing it
finally another young mathematician approaches him and starts a long discussion on math and the nature of numbers and the mathematicians love of the underlying structure of reality that math represents. the phd candidate is leary of this mathematician cause he wont answer what he does or where he went to school or how he knows so many cutting edge fields in math
eventually, the young mathematician offers the phd candidate a position with the NSA, National Security Agency, (where all the big crypto and high math goes on) but explains that if he accepts that he will essentially disappear from his current world. his work will be classified, he will not be able to publish in academic journals or speak in public, or talk about his work to his friends on the outside, but the compensation is that he
would be able to work unfettered with the greatest math minds in the country, totally funded, free to explore any field or fancy he thought. after a few moments of thought, the phd accepts.
then the story will go back to the arab mathematician who is also approached my a young beared mullah, who offers him a position within his group of thinkers who do ponder and explore the nature of nature reality and Allah through mathematics, but that by joining them he would need to disappear from the world, after a few minutes of thought, he too accepts...
--
Daniel sipped his 6th coffee (colloidal suspension for caffeine transport) while his batch jobs on ramanet, the Indian supergrid, finished their checksum verification. His chin, a bit stubbly, itched. His eyes, a bit red, were sore. The goa trance shoutcast feed had mushed into a fast cadence drone. The flat screen monitor warped and bulged with the oscillating fan blowing on Daniel's face
'O' glamorous larval life of a PhD student...' he jotted and doodle-circled on his notepad.
Daniel cracked his neck and jutted his jaw, stretching out the accumulation of kinks, as RamaNet finished the final integrity check on his dataset. this two hour round of processing on the Indian supergrid would cost about $130 out of his precious grant fund, but you couldnt beat the bargain. 120 minutes times 150,000 PCs in the RamaNet processing collective = 1,080,000,000 seconds or 18,000,000 minutes or 300,000 hours or 12500 days or 34.25 years of processing time for the price of a video game. Calculation was commoditized now. You uploaded your pre-fromatted dataset to RamaNet. the data was packeted and sent to out to 150,000 Indians who lent a few percents of never-to-be missed CPU cycles off their systems for background processing. when their alotted package was completed it was sent back to RamaNet for re-assembly into something coherent for the buyer. in return the Indians got a rebate on their net access charges or access to premier bollywood galleries or credit towards their own processing charges. a good deal all the way around. Daniel's dataset, an anthology of complex proofs from a long-dead arab mathematician, was queued with amateur weather forecast modeling, home-brewed digital CGI for indie movies, chaos theory-based currency trading algorithms, etc. the really high end, confidential jobs, like protein folding analysis or big pharm drug trials were more likely handled by the huge western collectives of several million collaborative systems, usually high-performance machines in dedicated corporate server farms. the cost there was out of Daniel's range, but you got a faster return and better promises of encryption for your buck.
Daniel scratched his scalp and flexed his fingers. 'two months from today i will be a doctor of mathematics...and no job. damnit. i need to find something fast.' Daniel calculated in his mind how quickly the student loans repayments would kick in and completely wipe him out. RamaNet would have done it in nanoseconds, ha! he laughed to himself. Daniel had avoided the rounds of job interviews and recommendations that passed his way. he was too absorbed in his research to look ahead, and perhaps a bit intimidated by the idea of the job hunt flea market. flexing his CV, getting a monkey suit, trying to explain his research to recruiters, who were often the same finger-counting business majors in college that made his skin crawl. Daniel always felt a bit embarrassed when he announced he was math PhD candidate. folks would immediately glaze over,
tsk tsk out a 'that's interesting', and swiftly change the subject. something will come up, he mantra'd to himself over and over, something will come up. stick with ali, there is something real in there, just a bit deeper. the real problem was his thesis advisor. dr. fuentes was not returning his calls, his secretary was not taking appointments from Daniel. he had submitted his finished draft of his thesis two weeks ago, but hadnt heard back since, except for a cryptic email saying that the review committee was having some issues with his paper and that Daniel would be hearing from him shortly. Daniel was rerunning his calculations on RamaNet to assuage the gnawing doubt that he completely botched some component of his argument and that the review committee was debating some manner of telling him to redo the entire effort. no PhD and no job. that would ice the cake. Daniel started calculating his body mass and general aerodynamic resistance relative to the height of the school cathedral to figure out if he had time to reach a terminal velocity before impact...only a failed math PhD would attempt to determine at what speed his body would smack concrete, he morbidly thought to himself.
ali ja'far muhammed ibn abdullah al-farisi slipped meditatively on his cup of water, thinking about his proof. he dipped a finger in the cup and held up a droplet of water under his fingertip, watching the sunlight prisimatically splay out on the mouth of the cup. 'praise be Allah and his wonderous bounty' he mumured to himself.
the elders had been in conference all day over his proof. though the heavy doors to their chamber were closed, he would occasionally hear muffled but distinctly angry shouts. ali sat on a divan in the anteroom, served numerous cups of tea by an obviously nervous secretary. ali knew there was deep resistance to his research, but for the life of him he couldnt figure out why. he was a simple mathematician. he came up with some unique observations. he wanted to share them with his peers...
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Overview: biotech researcher discovers a new life-extension technology and is murdered. He is cryogenically frozen for 150 years. When he is
revived he must stop a dark corporate conspiracy – and find his murderer.
Summer 2015 - Hot genius free-lance biotech researcher unravels the key component of a radical life-extension gene therapy that will ensure 300 years of robust life to its recipients. The researcher is murdered shortly after he hides the critical component. His distraught friend has him cryogenically frozen. 150 years later, the researcher is revived by the same major bio-med corporation for which he had originally been working.
Quickly he realizes that their motives are less than altruistic: his modification of the gene therapy is needed to resolve an unforeseen debilitation now creeping up in the recipients of the life-extension process. The recipients, now nearing 125 years off added life, are decompensating into psychotics. The researcher at first tries to remember and reconstruct what he did with the hidden critical component, but stops in disgust when he learns that in the past 150 years the life-extension therapy has been reserved solely for the ultra-affluent and has created an extreme and cruel global gerontocratic elite. He voices his disgust to his corporate minders, who cease being beneficent and show their true colors as trying to gain control of this critical technology in order to control the elites.
In the process of dealing with the corporation, he learns about his murder and begins investigating.As he comes closer to the identity of his murderer, he uncovers a wider conspiracy and is the target of more murder attempts.
He was killed by a friend in 2015. The friend was the CEO of a small bio-gen firm that the researcher was doing the LET work for. The CEO, a biz-head with a genetics academic background, took the researcher’s work and exploited it as his own, in the process growing his small firm into a bio-med powerhouse and him into one of the world’s wealthiest individuals.
The CEO also was the first recipient of the LET and is now 190 years old, but doesn’t look a day over 45. Smart, urbane, ruthless, the CEO used his wealth and position to start the cabal of Ultras. It is a faction of the top 50 smartest and wealthiest people in the world who have ‘ascended from the world’ (faked their demise) and control the global economy with their vast coordinated wealth. Perhaps they will call themselves ‘The Ascended’. We need to decide how the cabal lives. Are they sequestered on a luxurious island compound, or do they live in the open, surgically re-sculpted after each faked death, or do they live in the open.
Also we need to figure out what the world will look and feel like in 150 years.
As the ultras decompensate into psychosis, the CEO orders the researcher to be revived in order to find a cure. The CEO had the researcher’s lab notes decrypted and figured that the he was close if not successful in finding the missing component to stabilize the LET.
Tiberius Syndrome: the decline into cruel psychosis experienced by the ultras, named after the roman emperor Tiberius’ degenerate behavior after he sequestered himself on Capri.
The ironic twist might be that there is no cure, no stabilization. The psychosis is not the result of the LET alone, but also due in part to the unfettered ego/wills of the ultras. Absolute power corrupts…
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a brazilian hacking syndicate was subcontracted by a st petersberg crew to run interference on a hit on SWIFT, the global currency clearinghouse notification network. The UniFavela clan was going to run a multi-flank raid. They specialized in fast propagating virii and had created a custom mail-in virus that exploited a few microsoft vulnerabilities that they had discovered and kept mum. Their target was a Latin American PR spokesman listed on the corporate web site for press queries. The PR flak would be just the sleepy guard on the wall for their virus to slip past. 30 minutes after opening an inocuous spoofed email from a French e-trade publication requesting clarification on the SWIFT-Indentrus partnership. the virus would port scan and map its entire site LAN, salmoning its way up the router paths till it found the deep waters of the main corporate campus network in Brussels. Shortly, the internal LAN at Brussels would be suffering switch and router buffer overflows and traffic would gasp, ack, and sputter. UniFavela would then towel whip out a vanilla DDOS on the main company web site, any INTERNIC-registered addresses, and any other system in the IP block reserved for SWIFT that had previously port scanned as interesting, or ,even, as nothing. Mongols charging the village gates and tossing flaming torches on thatched roofs. IT Operations would be running to and fro, trying to figure out the internal bandwidth crunch and if there was a bleedout causing the external net problems.
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The Post-Human Story of Minos:
the CEO of a powerful commercial combine is bore an illegitimate son by his indiscreet wife in retaliation for his own dalliances. the son has a hideous deformity but is fantastically brilliant - brilliant enough for the father overcome his own repulsion of the child - as a bastard and a freak. the father sequesters the child in an elaborate virtual domain. the child, a hacker savant, is used to breach competitor nets. but as his power in the digital realm expands, the child transforms into the tyrant-monster. using the nets, he lashes out at people who have caused him pain, then evolves into enjoying the taste of terror and fear. He becomes the Minotaur.
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'there was a mad scramble amongst all the big spook governments, dark side corporations, and the privacy maccabees once it was determined that quantum computation had left the tidal pool of academia, grown legs and air-breathing lungs, and was headed for the nat sec intel highlands. all previous encryption models were rendered obsolete, and worse, exposed. QC became an undefiable xray spotlight, laying bare any encrypted secret with a ease of opening a mathematical candy wrapper. And for a while it swung the advantage back to the state in the digital Boer War against the freecon partisans.'
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The Oort, to the Intras, looked as one people. Extra-stellar hillbillies, ekeing out a subsistance existence on extracted organics from the frozen crud comets and other planetesimals of the Oort Cloud that slung around the solar system in a 1K AU circuit. To the Oort there was no Oort. Each station, each kampong was distinct and seperate. Seperate dialects, traditions, norms, goals. Some were scientific collectives, some were tired mining operations, some were intense sectarian cults - they shared little between themselves beyond necessary trade links for scarce commodities.
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A young prince is disgraced in an internal court scandal and sent into a quasi-exile on a worthless mission. On his travels he builds the wisdom and learns the skills necessary to be a just and effective leader.
His exile was a gambit by his patriarch to remove Genji from the arena of pointless court intrigues and develop him as a real leader. The patriarch dispatched a team of loyal praetorians to discreetly follow and protect Genji on his odyssey.
Genji was sent as an emissary to the Oort system. He must pass through the Martian-Saturnine corridor, populated with industrial trading guilds and their private militias.
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Genealogy becomes paramount in a closed culture; hierarchy by heredity. Reference the roman patrician class’ death-grip obsession with lineage, or the medieval Japanese imperial court’s strict intra-elite caste system.
But in an era of extreme genetic engineering, how can bloodlines retain their importance? Perhaps this is the wrong question. Perhaps in an era of extreme genetic engineering, authentic bloodlines can only retain their importance. The longevity of an unchanged gene line demonstrates success in evolutionary competition. Over time however, the fitness of a rigidly enforced and ‘sequestered’ gene line will degrade. Consider the hemophilia of the European royal strata.
I would not want the imperial court of the inner system to be pure blue bloods, eschewing genetic manipulation. Rather I would have them take the opposite tack – and embrace genetic engineering in the pursuit of perfecting particular socially valued or distinctive attributes; a roman nose, elongated refined fingers, even the possession of certain ‘noble’ afflictions (for ex., the aforementioned hemophilia as a sign of noble lineage).
The elites should pursue genealogy with the same passion and gusto as horse breeders; studs and mares and percentages of bloodlines, enforced and suppressed gene expressions, surrogates, and gene modes des saisons.
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a bum finds a the wallet and keys of a man who jumped from a bridge
he goes to his townhouse to find something to eat or steal
is impressed and overwhelmed with the man's townhouse
showers, eats, gets cleaned up, finds some clothes
is ready to leave when he helps a woman wrestling with groceries at her door
she thanks him, but looks stunned.
‘are you the man in #560? umm..i have lived here for 3 years and have never actually seen you. you seem to leave so early in the morning and get
home so late and keep to yourself.’
they spend 30 minutes talking, having a generally warm friendly encounter.
‘well, I am so glad to have finally met you. Hope to see you soon.’ As she closes her door, the bum turns to leave but pauses and thinks for a moment, then goes back into the man's townhouse
he pours through the man's papers and keepsakes and learns that the man has no family that he speaks with, no friends, lives off a well-endowed trust fund
and
the bum moves in and takes over the mans identity
he brings warmth and sincerity to the man's identity
what makes a hermit tick? what lengths do they go to to remove themselves from society? does it become a game to avoid contact, trying to become a shadow, a phantom? does society dissolve away as a mental force in their thoughts, atrophy away or does it become an amputated impression?
what divsion line stands between a hermit and convict in solitary? the hermit, by and large, chooses their isolation, the convict has it enforced upon them. at what point does the human need for society or socialization collapse? is there anything left that we can inspect and evaluate? a hermit, however, is able to maintain walls against the Great Other, which would imply that they are seeking refuge from the world. a schizo or an autistic will be physically surrounded by others but unable or incapable of making contact.
when does the will to contact die? what is left over? do humans require contact to retain our humanity? can you love and sacrifice in a vacuum?
what defines humanity? oooh, a big question...
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genetic engineering will continue to deconstruct the human species
there will be catastrophic disasters: gene sequence specific viruses engineered to attack 'types' of people. Der Genkampf
petroleum will be replaced- hydrogen-powered locomotion and green power (in the wealthy states). the poor states will continue to be held hostage to oil politics
(cultures and civilizations do not move forward uneringly. they spasticly jerk forward and fro, in clumps andgrains, never ever as a lemming death drive.)
developed economies will be netized. a new state structure will be needed to manage and dsitribute resources. the corporate structure, the commercial backbone of the capitalist democracy, will replace the republic. it is flexible to markets and political forces, insistent on accountability, it provides a sufficient compromise between individual representation and republican government. they will begin their political evolution as projects in community development. assurances of an educated workforce by charter education. assurances of uninterrupted utilities by running their own power/water etc. net-based marketplaces create corporate agoras. employees are in fact de facto citizens of the corporation. citizenship, or regular employment, will be a reward for merit, stock shares will count towards suffrage.
great corporate collectives will arise. housing, education, security...all the needs of the middle class will be absorbed in the corporate state. the tradtional state will cede roles and responsibilities to the corporate state as their resources dwindle. a few isolated violent reactions (military or legal)by the republics against the corporate states, but they will fail over time. against, or more so, in conjunction with the homogenized corporatsists wil be the diasporae, non-corporates will glom to other modes of networked alignment, ethnic allegiance will become stronger over time - as the chinese, indian, and jewish disporaestrengthen as a formula for a successful competition against/with the corporates.
the american state, succored by its overwhelming techo-military supremancy, loses its mission, its vision - substitutes will to dominate for will to excel - and falls into the deep narcotic, insulated slumber of the unassailable. GE, nano, and the banknote net weaken the mythic cohesion of the american spirit. we are no longer united by common experience (mass-mediated or otherwise) the promise of science to make us stronger, smarter, near immortal is held like a manifest destiny or a divine IOU for services rendered to humanity.
Greater Yellowlegs GRYE (Tringa melanoleuca)
McSlender Reservoir (east of Garcia's Nursery)
Martindale Flats
Greater Victoria BC
DSCN5225
Field Mark Cues ^i^
Differences between the Yellowlegs can be subtle
Here are some things to keep in mid
Killdeer as Size Reference GRYE has body size obviously Bigger than Killdeer --- this one is quite a reliable differentiator
GRYE is overall heavier in structure -- longer heavier bill (and as guide books often note-- typically has a discernable upturn)
In this case , we have a Juvenile/Immature and the upturn only slightly pronounced or developed.
The hefty thickness of bill at the base of the bill can be,with practice, an indicator of GRYE
The relative "big boned -ness" of legs can be,with practice, an indicator of GRYE as well