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Vermilion Cliffs Wilderness, AZ. How do you measure time in a timeless place? I should be exhausted...reaching somewhere this remote is no small accomplishment. The drive is something to have a healthy fear of, and the trouble you can find yourself in out here is not something to be taken lightly. Having taken all morning on bad and worse roads to get here, we set up camp and explored. White Pocket has dangled in my imagination for years, but I had no real sense of it, I was not prepared for what I found. Cones, domes, ledges, potholes...my feet ache from gripping slickrock ramps at angles dangerous to be on, my body sore from contorting behind a tripod and balancing so as not to fall, my eyes full of too much information. The hours of the day melt away as I wander a world tipped on end, petrified rivers of color pouring down and across a fun house floor that tilts and undulates underfoot. There are layers of history I can’t comprehend. I seem to grow from child-like delight into an adult who calculates light and shadow and how to make it work. By twilight I am seeing an afterglow, a deeper, brighter and richer radiation of color as if exaggerated in reminiscence. Later, after picking my way by headlamp across rock faces that didn’t seem that hairy coming up, I think of the places I want to see, or see again. Despair begins to creep in, the intersection of time and opportunity. I feel it slipping away. How do you measure time, in a timeless place? Against your own mortality, I guess. There is a sad knowledge that my time is inconsequential here. Such sacred places are older than all my lifetimes, but I hope they are part of what I always seek, and that I find them again, in time, somehow, like I found you.
Some places are so beautiful they will mesmerize the soul. It is the most beautiful place on Earth for the moment. There are many such places that everyone carries in heart and mind the image of the ideal place.
After spending a couple of nights in Dubai, we then moved on to London. I really love being in London.
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Helvellyn from Castlerigg Stone Circle, Lake District National Park, Cumbria, England.
Best viewed LARGE by clicking here.
Classic Bruges afternoon at the Rozenhoedkaai. Canal boats, waffle smoke, a tucked-away bistro and a well-earned Belgian tripel. Some cities just do Saturdays right.
Even as the bridge approaches 90 years in service, even as thousands of photos from every angle exist, even as tourists and locals to my left and right are snapping with phones, even as this picture or something like it exists in the millions, even though its all been captured, my goal was to make more photos of this iconic feat of engineering.
As this bridge approaches 90 years in service, I think of how pioneering this was then and how graceful it still stands.
On a recent visit to San Jose we decided to head up to San Francisco to walk across the Golden Gate Bridge. The weather was perfect if not a bit windy.
Summer afternoon - summer afternoon; to me those have always been the two most beautiful words in the English language.
Henry James
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Beautiful Brighton at 5am on a calm summer's morning.... A long exposure shot... but some waves would've been nice. By Mark Higham @mhigham.photos (Instagram)
Well. To me it is. It reminds me so much of being a kid. My parents would take me to some of the beaches when cod fishing was in it's heyday and we spent the day watching the goings on. I loved the sounds of the old make 'n break engines as boats came and went. Very nostalgic, even for a city kid like me.