View allAll Photos Tagged Pathless
Beinn Mhor is the highest hill in a wide area, making it an extensive viewpoint. The walk is straightforward, although navigation skills are needed for the final climb. Officially a Graham of 720m.
TERRAIN
Forestry track and faint path, steep and very boggy at times and pathless for final climb. The walk up takes you through ancient woods of Trees covered in green moss.
Taken with an Olympus OMD-EM5 and a 12-40mm f2.8
“There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society, where none intrudes,
By the deep sea, and music in its roar:
I love not man the less, but Nature more”
― George Gordon Byron
In September 2017, we spent 11 days of hiking and packrafting in the unspoiled wilderness of southern Greenland between the magnificent Tasermiut fjord and the remote settlement of Aappilattoq, searching for beautiful landscapes, moods of solitude, and enjoying a true deep north adventure.
Certainly, we were far from being the first to cross these lands, however we hadn't met anyone during our 10-days hike across the pathless terrain; we just saw a few footsteps of previous adventurers in the sand.
No paths, no huts, no GSM signal, no means of civilization; this is a harsh northern landscape that requires enough stamina, experience, mental strength and patience to be crossed over. For those who don't retreat, however, the experience is very rewarding: a unique mix of isolation, exploration and adventure.
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During the second day in the area, we explored the central part of Tasermiut fjord (northern shore) with stunning views of Ketil, Ulamertorsuaq and Nalumasortoq peaks.
"There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society, where none intrudes,
By the deep sea, and music in its roar."
The legendary 85km South Coast Track negotiates the lonesome coastline of Southwest National Park, Tasmania, with nothing between the coast and Antarctica but thundering ocean waves.
The trek crosses two mountain ranges to avoid sections of impassable coastline and long sections of open plains behind the coastline; it only follows the coast where there are (splendid) beaches.
Local experienced bushwalkers rate South Coast Track as "moderate", leaving some space on their grading scale for pathless rambling across wild Tasmania; for an average hiker, though, this trek may well belong to the more difficult ones, especially in adverse weather.
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After three years, I was fortunate enough to return to Tasmania, literally across the globe and 10 time zones; four flights were needed to get from winter Prague to early summer in Hobart.
Hiking the iconic South Coast Track was stunningly beautiful. That sense of remoteness and unspoiled wilderness... each day was different, and all the seven days spent on tackling the South Coast Track contributed to an unforgettable experience in this very unique landscape located on the other side of the Earth.
The legendary 85km South Coast Track negotiates the lonesome coastline of Southwest National Park, Tasmania, with nothing between the coast and Antarctica but thundering ocean waves.
The trek crosses two mountain ranges to avoid sections of impassable coastline and long sections of open plains behind the coastline; it only follows the coast where there are (splendid) beaches.
Local experienced bushwalkers rate South Coast Track as "moderate", leaving some space on their grading scale for pathless rambling across wild Tasmania; for an average hiker, though, this trek may well belong to the more difficult ones, especially in adverse weather.
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After three years, I was fortunate enough to return to Tasmania, literally across the globe and 10 time zones; four flights were needed to get from winter Prague to early summer in Hobart.
Hiking the iconic South Coast Track was stunningly beautiful. That sense of remoteness and unspoiled wilderness... each day was different, and all the seven days spent on tackling the South Coast Track contributed to an unforgettable experience in this very unique landscape located on the other side of the Earth.
If the western face of Kalški greben (mountain/ridge) is the most prominent one, then this place below Kočna mountain is the best viewpoint to observe it. Perhaps a bit higher, but there's a pathless and overgrown terrain.
In September 2017, we spent 11 days of hiking and packrafting in the unspoiled wilderness of southern Greenland between the magnificent Tasermiut fjord and the remote settlement of Aappilattoq, searching for beautiful landscapes, moods of solitude, and enjoying a true deep north adventure.
Certainly, we were far from being the first to cross these lands, however we hadn't met anyone during our 10-days hike across the pathless terrain; we just saw a few footsteps of previous adventurers in the sand.
No paths, no huts, no GSM signal, no means of civilization; this is a harsh northern landscape that requires enough stamina, experience, mental strength and patience to be crossed over. For those who don't retreat, however, the experience is very rewarding: a unique mix of isolation, exploration and adventure.
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The logistics in Southern Greenland takes time; we had to travel from Narsarsuaq to Nanortalik for five hours as part of Disko Line's regular weekly boat connection.
"There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
there is a rapture on the lonely shore,
there is society where none intrudes,
by the deep sea, and the music in its roar :
i love not man the less, but Nature more..."
Lord Byron
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"There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society where none intrudes,
By the deep Sea, and music in its roar:
I love not Man the less, but Nature more,
From these our interviews, in which I steal
From all I may be, or have been before,
To mingle with the Universe, and feel
What I can ne’er express, yet cannot all conceal."
From the valley we climbed up on the ex meadow of Lekine njive. The end of the canyon is pathless and difficult to hike, but would bring you very close to Sveto Brdo, the highest summit of Velebit.
We’re gonna dive into the emptiness
We'll be swimming
I’m going to walk you through the pathless roads
I’m going to take you to the top of the mountain that’s no longer there
I’m going to take you to bed and love you, I swear
Like the end is here...
As I stumbled about on the wilder, pathless parts of the Meuse Corridor I sprained my foot but was glad to fall head-long into a patch of Earthnut Pea, Lathyrus tuberosus. So recovering I sat down and looked more closely at the pretty flowers of this Sweet Pea.
Lathyrus tuberous also goes by the curious name 'Mice-with-tails' in various European languages (in The Netherlands 'Muizen-met-staarten' devolves in particular to the Betuwe region where there was once some minor cultivation of this plant).
Whence that name if the flowers don't remotely look like mice? Well, the tubers apparently remind of mice because of their small, blackish oblong shape with a 'string' (=mouse's tail) attached. These tubers, though small, are said to be good to eat after roasting or cooking, tasting a bit like Tame Chestnuts.
Mostly though this Sweet Pea is a thing of beauty.
But I found a number of references to the use of the flowers of Earthnut Pea for the production of an aromatic oil in the seventeenth century. A bit hard to trace the origin of that assertion. In the end I did find the work of a Swiss-German chemist, one Christoph Heinrich Hirzel (1828-1908): his Die Toiletten-Chemie, The Chemistry of Toiletries (1892, 4th ed.). He gives a fascinating account and also a kind of recipe book for the manufacture of various toiletry sweeteners and aromatics. One is for 'Platterbsenessenz' or 'Dufterbsenöl' (Erbse=Pea). Hirzel recommends a mixture of: 1/4 litre of 'Tuberosenextract', 1/4 of Orange flower extract, 1/4 of Rose pomade, and 30 grams of Vanilla extract. His description concludes: "Diese Platterbsenessenz riecht sehr angenehm und erinnert an Orangeblüten"; a bit disingenuous I would think given that a quarter of the mixture is indeed that of Orange flower extract.
Regardless my sprained foot, my lack of having been able to savor the cooked tubers, and Hirzel's disingenuity, this is a Very Pretty Sweet Pea in full flower!
The 750m high summit ridge of Beinn Bhàn curves around Coire Mhuilinn. To the E and W of this ridge are broad gentle slopes, to the N lie the twin corries, Coire Bhotrais and Coire Dubh with their steeper craggy slopes.
As the only access road lies to the S, the normal ascent route is around the rim of Coire Mhuillin, using the two S facing flanking ridges for ascent and descent.
Makes for a short 5 ish mile round and would be an easy day if it wasn't for the steep pathless slog up on to the ridge and the steep pathless knee jarring descent off it.
"There is pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society, where none intrudes,
By the deep sea, and music in its roar:
I love not man the less, but Nature more,
From these our interviews, in which I steal
From all I may be, or have been before,
To mingle with the Universe, and feel
What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal."
Lord Byron
Best viewed on black and large!
There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society, where none intrudes,
By the deep sea, and music in its roar:
I love not man the less, but Nature more...
-George Gordon Bryon.
This photo is taken on the easy part of the walk up the little visited hill of Arenig Fach, which higher up becomes a struggle through pathless, knee high heather. On the opposite side of the valley, with a dusting of snow, is Arenig Fawr.
The valley itself, Tryweryn, holds historical memories. Two kilometres below here, is the reservoir of Llyn Celyn. Built by Liverpool City Corporation between 1960 and 1965, it flooded the village of Capel Celyn and it's surrounding community, causing great unhappiness and sorrow, and also giving a boost to Welsh nationalism: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Llyn_Celyn
Just out of view behind the foreground rocks, is the farm of Rhyd-y-fen. Originally an Inn, it was near here at Nant Ddu that for two years, 1911-1912, became an artist's colony involving Augustus John and James Dickson Innes. Augustus John was one of the most famous of British artists at the time, although he is as much remembered now for his prodigious sexual appetite in fathering many children by different women, as his artistic legacy. The talented and artistically more forward looking James Dickson Innes, was obsessed with the 'magic mountain' of Arenig Fawr, but died tragically young at 27 years of tuberculosis. The BBC made a fascinating documentary about those years, 'The Mountain That Had To Be Painted', which is sadly currently unavailable.
artuk.org/discover/artworks/arenig-116859
There is an excellent article about James Dickson Innes by John Appleby on his blog, Footless Crow:
footlesscrow.blogspot.co.uk/2011/05/james-dickson-innes-a...
There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society, where none intrudes,
By the deep sea, and music in its roar:
I love not man the less, but Nature more.
~George Gordon, Lord Byron, Childe Harold's Pilgrimage
EXPLORE .. Jul 19, 2012 #361
A point on the hike back along the Agnes Gorge Trail, looking to the north in Glacier Peak Wilderness. While a view looking without the trail might have best captured a view of that "pleasure in the pathless woods", I liked how the hiking trail seemed to draw the view to continue walking ahead into more greens of this part of the Okanogan-Wenatchee National Forest.
We listen to a Song of Union sung down the ages by the choir of those who have gone deeply into the pathless Path of contemplative realization. Each of us has a voice in this choir, but due to the din of inner noise streaming in our heads, we live largely deaf to our own voices singing this Song of Union that sings of ourselves ever hidden in God. This choir likewise attests to the intimacy of this foundational union, sung throughout the centuries in different times and places. Because this that we call a self is ever hidden, we can never see it or chart it as an object of our awareness, for it is the sustaining ground of awareness, the aware-ing itself shining out of our own eyes.
--An Ocean of Light Contemplation, Transformation, and Liberation-Martin Laird, O.S.A.
You won't believe what was in that little grotto. I can't tell you until you guys have made a guess. I also won't reveal the place name until later on :)
This is actually a waterfall, but unfortunately it is dry. However, still impressive.
Eternal Flame Falls, New York
"There is pleasure in the pathless woods, there is rapture in the lonely shore, there is society where none intrudes, by the deep sea, and music in its roar; I love not Man the less, but Nature more." - Lord Byron
"There is pleasure in the pathless woods, there is rapture in the lonely shore, there is society where none intrudes, by the deep sea, and music in its roar; I love not Man the less, but Nature more." ~ Lord Byron
When I see birches bend to left and right
Across the lines of straighter darker trees,
I like to think some boy’s been swinging them.
But swinging doesn’t bend them down to stay
As ice-storms do. Often you must have seen them
Loaded with ice a sunny winter morning
After a rain. They click upon themselves
As the breeze rises, and turn many-colored
As the stir cracks and crazes their enamel.
Soon the sun’s warmth makes them shed crystal shells
Shattering and avalanching on the snow-crust—
Such heaps of broken glass to sweep away
You’d think the inner dome of heaven had fallen.
They are dragged to the withered bracken by the load,
And they seem not to break; though once they are bowed
So low for long, they never right themselves:
You may see their trunks arching in the woods
Years afterwards, trailing their leaves on the ground
Like girls on hands and knees that throw their hair
Before them over their heads to dry in the sun.
But I was going to say when Truth broke in
With all her matter-of-fact about the ice-storm
I should prefer to have some boy bend them
As he went out and in to fetch the cows—
Some boy too far from town to learn baseball,
Whose only play was what he found himself,
Summer or winter, and could play alone.
One by one he subdued his father’s trees
By riding them down over and over again
Until he took the stiffness out of them,
And not one but hung limp, not one was left
For him to conquer. He learned all there was
To learn about not launching out too soon
And so not carrying the tree away
Clear to the ground. He always kept his poise
To the top branches, climbing carefully
With the same pains you use to fill a cup
Up to the brim, and even above the brim.
Then he flung outward, feet first, with a swish,
Kicking his way down through the air to the ground.
So was I once myself a swinger of birches.
And so I dream of going back to be.
It’s when I’m weary of considerations,
And life is too much like a pathless wood
Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs
Broken across it, and one eye is weeping
From a twig’s having lashed across it open.
I’d like to get away from earth awhile
And then come back to it and begin over.
May no fate willfully misunderstand me
And half grant what I wish and snatch me away
Not to return. Earth’s the right place for love:
I don’t know where it’s likely to go better.
I’d like to go by climbing a birch tree,
And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk
Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more,
But dipped its top and set me down again.
That would be good both going and coming back.
One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.
From The Poetry of Robert Frost by Robert Frost, edited by Edward Connery Lathem. Copyright 1916, 1923, 1928, 1930, 1934, 1939, 1947, 1949, © 1969 by Holt Rinehart and Winston, Inc. Copyright 1936, 1942, 1944, 1945, 1947, 1948, 1951, 1953, 1954, © 1956, 1958, 1959, 1961, 1962 by Robert Frost. Copyright © 1962, 1967, 1970 by Leslie Frost Ballantine.
From the Lazovški preval (saddle) we are ascending up by a pathless, karstic terrain towards the Debeli vrh. There are broad limestone plates and deep sinkholes, the views are broader and broader. This is the view towards the NE, on Stogi and on the mountains above Pokljuka plateau in the background.
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This picture reminds me of one of my favourite poems by one of my favourite poets
In the Shadow of Mount Abiegnus
by Fernando Pessoa,
free translation by myself
In the shadow of Mount Abiegnus
I put meditattion to rest.
I looked up to the high Castle
Which I've dreamed of reaching,
In the shadow of Mount Abiegnus.
All love or life,
behind me I left,
All that was desiring them,
I did not retain, for I forgot.
In the shadow of Mount Abiegnus
I idled for I renounced.
Maybe one day, stronger,
In strength or abandonment,
I will attempt the high path
Which to the Castle stretches.
In the shadow of Mount Abiegnus.
For now I idle, and yet I don't.
For who can laze
With the Castle calling?
It stands high, pathless
but for the path to find.
In the shadow of Mount Abiegnus
I dream of the unveiling.
But for now I am sleeping,
For this benightedness is a dream.
I behold the Castle from afar,
not entertaining my yearning.
From the shadow of Mount Abiegnus
Who will ever release me?
The summit of Lurg Mhor is prized on account of its remoteness.
The last twenty four hours had been a bit of a test, not least because some toe-rag stole my bike whilst it was locked to the bike rack on the eve of our departure for the far north. Being so remote a hill, we had chosen to cycle into the base of Lurg Mhor and then hike the rest of the route. Thankfully the hospitality of our B&B host in Loch Carron was first class and as well as being loaned a bike rack we were able to hire a couple of steeds from the local garage.
After a tough ride and pathless climb Mark is seen here going for a wonder on the summit.
A favorite pleasure hath it been with me,
From time of earliest youth, to walk alone
Along the public Way, when, for the night
Deserted, in its silence it assumes
A character of deeper quietness
Than pathless solitudes...
Low water sits in a sheltered hollow 1800 feet up in the Coniston fells, we watched as two walkers left the path and set off over pathless snow and ice to conquer the last 800 feet thus reaching the summit of Brim fell.
Have a wonderful day...dear friends! :-)
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There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society, where none intrudes,
By the deep Sea, and music in its roar:
I love not Man the less, but Nature more.
Lord Byron
Texture with thanks to Cris Buscaglia Lenz
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The Cypress Tree Tunnel is one of those magical spots I've seen photographed so many times and it was at the top of my bucket list to photograph when I flew out to California. Needless to say Wayward Imagery and I just happened to fly in during the heavy rains and mudslides and almost had to turn around before continuing on to Point Reyes National Seashore with the risk of roads flooding. We MADE IT!!! It was a cloudy day with off and on storms and no beautiful sun rays coming through the trees but still magical in its own quiet way.
"There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society, Where none intrudes, By the deep sea, And music in its roar: I love not man the less, but nature more." ~ Lord Byron
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Yesterday, with good weather forecast, I decided on an early morning walk in Borrowdale. I went up Grange Crags and with clear skies and no mist or cloud inversion, it was going to be difficult for photography but setting off in the dark listening to owls hooting which then gave way to robins singing, as daylight came, was a wonderful start to the day. It was cold, just 2 degrees, when I parked up and there was frost on the bracken on the top. And mentioning bracken….this was the hardest small fell I’ve ever climbed, it is pathless up there and some of the bracken was head height and well matted together making walking with a camera bag and tripod quite a challenge!
The silver birch trees around the summit are just starting to look nice, but there is more colour yet to come in the valley. This was my favourite view of the morning, the moment the sun just popped over the ridge to my east, lighting up these trees before anything else around them.
Vlog here - youtu.be/yW8IgNuMc4A
Killiecrankie to Vrackie
One of my go to mountains is Ben Vrackie and I’ve explored lots of variations from the Moulin side, be it in daylight hours or in the hours of darkness, however I am ashamed to say I have never explored the hill from Killiecrankie. In fact I don’t think I have ever visited Killiecrankie despite driving past it numerous times every month!! What swung it this time was the magnificent display the autumn trees were putting on. On another trip north with work, I was in awe of the colours as I swung onto the dual carriage way, the woodland on the hillside wouldn’t have looked out of place in New Hampshire!
Waking on a drab Sunday morning I switched on the TV to catch the weather and it was suggesting the drabness I was seeing out of the window was soon to change to blue skies and sunshine! Feeling the need to feed the rat, I set about doing some chores in the morning with the plan to head off to Killiecrankie around lunchtime. This I did, and my timing was good with the clouds starting to part as I past Pitlochry and my mountain before taking the right hand turnoff for Killiecrankie! Parking was limited at the visitor centre as many others had obviously had the same idea, although not many were headed where I was going!! The hill walk starts opposite the visitor centre and is just as well sign posted as it is from the Moulin side. Off I strode and the views soon opened out in all directions – the wonderful autumn colours around Killiecrankie were superb and the mountain view of Beinn a Ghlo started to appear as I gained height. I good path takes you over some fields and there are a few styles and dykes to cross on the way up. I reached a junction in the path and as opposed to heading over towards the lochan I took a left as I wanted to head up the subsidiary top of Meall an Daimh. Now if you don’t like heather bashing – then this route is not for you!! The path is ok for about 500m but you need to strike off up hill and at this point it’s a wade through the heather until reaching the top!
One of the main attractions about this route is the solitude that is encountered and I had only met a few other walkers on the path up from Killiecrankie. As I headed for Meall an Daimh, I wasn’t expecting to see another soul, but nearing the summit I was surprised to see a couple of walkers making their way down towards me. As they approached I immediately recognised them as regular contributors to the walkhighlands forum, it was Weaselmaster and Sick kid – great to meet you both!! After a nice chat we set off on our ways , hope you got home ok folks.
On reaching the top of Meall an Daimh the heather shortened and the grass took over. The views were amazing, Beinn a Ghlo and the other Perthshire hills looked absolutely brilliant with the lovely blue skies over head. It was a superb autumnal day and after taking an hour or so to enjoy the solitude on the minor summit I soon set about striding to the summit of Ben Vrackie, which wasn’t so quiet! Understandably so, many people had taken the opportunity to hike in this glorious autumn weather! A little drink and bite to eat on Vrackies summit and I started to descend over pathless ground towards Killiecrankie again. The sun the starting to lower and the rays of light hitting the Perthshire Landscapes was grand. I was soon on the path and heading back to Killiecrankie. I still had about an hour of light left and decided to head down to explore the soldiers leap. It was amazing, the colours in the woodland were perfect and the crowds had dispersed by this time. There is a real feeling of history here and after reading a little about the history ,it was nice to visit a small part of were these battles had occurred. I’ve decided I will be coming back next Autumn to spend more time in the lowlands to see where Bonnie Dundee