Another from a rather deserted Royal Mile in Edinburgh - unheard of in the context of the usual high tourist season which runs across July and August. This shot looks in the opposite direction, west, from Parliament Square by St Giles' Cathedral.

The Royal Mile is a succession of streets forming the main thoroughfare of the Old Town of the city of Edinburgh in Scotland. The term was first used descriptively in W M Gilbert's Edinburgh in the Nineteenth Century (1901), "...with its Castle and Palace and the royal mile between", and was further popularised as the title of a guidebook, published in 1920.

From the Castle gates to the Palace gates the street is almost exactly a mile (1.6 km) long and runs downhill between two significant locations in the royal history of Scotland, namely Edinburgh Castle and Holyrood Palace, hence its name. The streets which make up the Royal Mile are (west to east) Castlehill, the Lawnmarket, the High Street, the Canongate and Abbey Strand. The Royal Mile is the busiest tourist street in the Old Town, rivalled only by Princes Street in the New Town, (but not in 2020).

© Neil Mair 2020 All rights reserved.

Use of my images without my explicit written permission is an infringement of copyright law.

Tagged with #edinburgh #cathedral #stgiles #stgilescathedral #scotland #capital #city #architecture #royalmile #stone #design #unesco #unescoworldheritage #oldtown #covid19 #coronavirus #pandemic #lockdown #deserted #empty

The Sahara desert blew some of its sand up north as far as Scotland. Temperatures of 70 degrees in March, in Scotland is unheard of. The sky was absolutely mesmerising with its shades of pink and purple. The stairs are 100 years old and are located in Carfin Grotto, North Lanarkshire, Scotland.

Crystalline waters off Tinalisayan Island, San Pascual, Masbate. Previously unheard of 6 years ago, this island is attracting an increasing number of visitors.

After an unheard of 46 inch snowfall in these parts, the local fuel company shows up at the Winchester & Westerns Gore, VA, engine house the top off the locomotives for the days chores. That work would consist of plowing the line to Winchester. It would be five days for that city to get everything plowed the way it should be.

Up until now I'd been so single minded that I hadn't even registered them at all. I mean, seriously, how can you not see mountains? And away from Macgillycuddy's Reeks, Mount Brandon is the highest in Ireland. It was only as I arrived at the junction, fully intending to turn right and retrace my route back to Clogher Head for the last ninety odd minutes that I finally noticed there were big white lumps at the back of the peninsula, peering out of the gloom like ghosts. Had they been white when I'd arrived here a few hours ago? I didn't think so, but I couldn't really remember. I'd been so engrossed in plans that lay in the opposite direction, Ballydavid Head and the Three Sisters, that somehow Mount Brandon and its ridges had eluded me entirely. But the moment I saw them, plan B was immediately shelved. Clogher Head could wait a little longer. I turned left; pointlessly as it would soon become apparent. A slow four mile circuit that eventually brought me to a place I recognised from earlier, just a few hundred yards down the road from where I'd started. If only I’d turned right.

We don't have mountains where I live. Not even close. The nearest ones are more than two hundred miles away in South Wales. Snow is almost unheard of at home too. Suddenly and unexpectedly I had both. I had come to the Dingle Peninsula to photograph the coast, but those spectral titans were competing for my attention. Not for the first time either. I'd already been sidetracked by the aforementioned Macgillycuddy's Reeks on the way here yesterday. That unscheduled stop had eaten into my time at Dunmore Head, although it had been worth the trouble. Today I'd meant to stay up on Ballydavid Head until I could only just about see my way back down again, but the weather had brought that episode to an early end. The same weather that had dusted the mountains in icing sugar and given me something else to be distracted by. But I decided I could live with that.

What made things particularly interesting was that it was clear on the lower slopes. Only the uppermost parts of the land were sprinkled with snow, while below there were contrasting oranges and browns. By now I was parked on a quiet junction where Slea Head Drive arrived at the road towards Dingle. Now and again a solitary car would pass by, but apart from that I was completely untroubled. With my back to the sea, I jumped up onto the verge and pointed my camera at the ghosts. The tripod stayed in the car as I trusted my luck with the telephoto lens and the image stabilisation. After twenty odd minutes I decided I could do no more and set off for Clogher Head, from where the mountains continued to dominate this remote corner of County Kerry. I stayed there on the headland until it was dark, snaffling the remains of today's provisions and congratulating myself on being such a lucky chap. It was the only full day I had here, and it had been everything I'd hoped for, with a great big ghostly bonus prize in the sky thrown in.

This is an extraordinary place. So much packed into such a small area on this sparsely populated finger of land beyond the town that gives the peninsula its name. The coast is as good as anywhere I've ever been lucky enough to visit with its abundance of cliffs, promontories, untouched beaches, sea stacks and mysterious islands. Yet here alongside it there are mountains, lakes, forests, and the odd waterfall too. A continent in miniature, shielded from the rest of the nation by the ghosts in the sky, clinging onto the edge of Europe, while the untamed Atlantic Ocean charges in from the west. It's got the lot. I've hardly begun to get my bearings here, let alone learn what else is waiting to be discovered. And this is just one tiny corner of a wild and rugged Ireland, packed with myths and legends that span the centuries back to the dark ages and beyond. It would take years to even start to see it all. Trying to decide which bit to visit next time is going to be a heck of a challenge.

Winnebago County - Iowa

"Out & About" early this morning after some fresh snow and lingering fog. It takes an ordinary scene and transforms it to where gnomes and fairies hide and play!

A winter landscape with open running water in January . . . unheard of in northern Iowa!

Copyright 2016

Back-to-back VIA LRC units was not common, but also not unheard of. Here is No.72 departing London, Ontario with a pair leading a steam-generator car and ten blue-fleet cars.

VIA 6907 LRC

VIA 6922 LRC

Das Intercitypaar 515/518 „Hahnenkamm“

Das Intercitypaar 515/518 „Hahnenkamm“ hat die Giselabahn mit ihrer beeindruckenden Landschaft über viele Jahre hinweg maßgeblich geprägt. Besonders in den frühen Morgenstunden, wenn der IC 515 unterwegs war, ging man oft mit einem herrlichen, beinahe magischen Bild nach Hause – ein Anblick, der sich einprägte und lange in Erinnerung blieb.

Abgesehen von der gelegentlichen „Verirrung“ eines Taurus auf diesem Umlauf – was selten, aber durchaus hin und wieder gang und gäbe war – blieb der Zug meist seinem gewohnten Erscheinungsbild treu. Bis ins Jahr 2022 fanden sich sogar vereinzelt Lokomotiven der Reihe 1142 auf diesem markanten Umlauf, wodurch Tirol und Salzburg in diesem Jahr noch kurzzeitig mit echter „Altbau-Power“ bedient wurden.

Doch zurück in die Gegenwart. Bereits seit 2023 plante die ÖBB eine neue Zuggattung: den „Interregio“ – für viele eine eher günstige Kopie des Nahverkehrs, allerdings zu Fernverkehrspreisen. Die Bundesbahn scheint ernsthaft der Meinung zu sein, mit dreiteiligen Desiros im Nahverkehrs-Layout und ganzen zwölf Erste-Klasse-Sitzen den Fernverkehr revolutioniert zu haben. Ich freue mich schon auf den Sommer, wenn zahlreiche Radfahrer – offenbar in dem Glauben, es handle sich um einen Nahverkehrszug – zusteigen werden. Das dürfte noch für einige chaotische Situationen sorgen.

Seit dem Fahrplanwechsel 2025/26 sind diese Interregios nun planmäßig unterwegs. Zwar kamen dadurch auch neue Leistungen hinzu, was durchaus positiv zu bewerten ist, dennoch gibt es klare Pro- und Contra-Argumente. Vor allem, wenn diese dreiteiligen Desiros hochwertige Intercity-Leistungen ersetzen sollen – darunter auch den legendären Hahnenkamm-Intercity.

Tatsächlich hatte ich bis dahin noch kein Foto dieses Zugpaares, da sich das von meinem Wohnort aus nicht wirklich ergeben hatte. Doch am Abend vor dem letzten Tag des Fahrplanwechsels ging ich einen Kompromiss ein: die ganze Nacht durch Tirol zu pendeln, um am Morgen rechtzeitig vor Ort zu sein.

So fuhr ich mit einem Nightjet nach Innsbruck und stieg dort in eine S-Bahn Richtung Kufstein um. In Kufstein angekommen – es war 02:15 Uhr – traf ich sofort auf Kollegen mit demselben Vorhaben. Die Zeit ließ sich so gut überbrücken, man war bestens unterhalten. Nach mehrfachem Pendeln zwischen Innsbruck und Kufstein erreichten wir gegen 06:00 Uhr Wörgl, holten uns einen Kaffee und eine Breze und machten uns anschließend auf den Weg Richtung Fieberbrunn, wo das begehrte Foto entstehen sollte.

Nach über zehn Stunden Reise kamen wir schließlich im kleinen Ort Fieberbrunn an. Im Hintergrund begann der Hochkönig im Licht des Sonnenaufgangs langsam zu leuchten. Die herrliche Szenerie und die besondere Stimmung ließen die Vorfreude spürbar ansteigen.

Voller Energie begaben wir uns zur bekannten Fotostelle. Nach etwa einer halben Stunde tauchte plötzlich ein Landwirt mit seinem Hund auf. Er machte uns darauf aufmerksam, dass fremde Wiesen nicht einfach betreten werden sollten und man beim nächsten Mal bitte vorher fragen möge. Wir entschuldigten uns mehrfach und gaben zu, dass dies unser Fehler war.

Nach dem Gespräch verlangte er allerdings plötzlich eine „Gebühr“ von zehn Euro – andernfalls würde er die Polizei verständigen. Das erschien uns zwar äußerst seltsam, doch letztlich war uns das Foto diesen Betrag wert. Die etwa 15 weiteren Personen hinter uns wurden eine Stunde später ebenfalls zur Kasse gebeten. Ein durchaus lukratives Geschäft, wenn man es so betrachtet.

Und dann kam er: der letzte IC 515, bespannt mit der 1144 223.

Ein perfekter Abschluss – denn manchmal gilt eben: Aufhören, wenn’s am schönsten ist.

Danke an alle, die diesen nächtlichen Fiebertraum mitgemacht haben.

GiG.

--------------------------------------

The Intercity Pair 515/518 “Hahnenkamm”

The Intercity pair 515/518 “Hahnenkamm” shaped the Gisela Railway with its stunning scenery for many years. Especially in the early morning hours, when IC 515 was running, one would often head home with a magnificent, almost magical image in mind — a view that left a lasting impression.

Apart from the occasional “lost” Taurus locomotive appearing on this diagram — something rare, but not entirely unheard of — the train generally remained true to its familiar appearance. Until 2022, even locomotives of the 1142 class would very occasionally find their way onto this distinctive duty, meaning that Tyrol and Salzburg were briefly still served by classic motive power during that year.

But let us return to the present. As early as 2023, ÖBB had been planning a new train category: the “Interregio” — for many, little more than a budget version of regional transport at long-distance prices. The national railway apparently believes that three-car Desiro units in a regional layout, featuring a grand total of twelve first-class seats, are enough to revolutionize long-distance travel. I am already looking forward to summer, when countless cyclists — seemingly unaware that this is supposed to be a long-distance train — will board. That will surely be a recipe for chaos.

Since the 2025/26 timetable change, these Interregio services have been running regularly. In fact, new services have been added as well, which is certainly a positive development. However, there are clear pros and cons — especially when these three-car Desiros are meant to replace high-quality Intercity services, including the legendary Hahnenkamm Intercity.

Until then, I had never managed to get a photo of this train pair, as it simply didn’t work out from where I live. But on the evening before the final day of the timetable change, I decided to compromise: spending the entire night traveling across Tyrol to be at the right spot in the morning.

I took a Nightjet to Innsbruck and transferred to an S-Bahn towards Kufstein. Arriving in Kufstein at 02:15, I immediately met fellow enthusiasts who had the same plan in mind. This made the time much easier to pass, and we were well entertained. After several trips back and forth between Innsbruck and Kufstein, we arrived in Wörgl around 06:00, grabbed a coffee and a pretzel, and then headed towards Fieberbrunn, where the desired photo was to be taken.

After more than ten hours of travel, we finally arrived in the small village of Fieberbrunn. In the background, the Hochkönig began to glow softly in the light of the rising sun. The magnificent scenery and special atmosphere noticeably lifted our spirits.

Full of energy, we made our way to the well-known photo spot. After about half an hour, a farmer suddenly appeared with his dog. He pointed out that one should not simply enter private meadows and that we should ask for permission next time. We apologized several times and acknowledged that this had been our mistake.

After the conversation, however, he suddenly demanded a “fee” of ten euros — otherwise he would call the police. This struck us as quite strange, but in the end, the photo was worth it to us. Around 15 other people behind us were also charged an hour later. A rather profitable business, when you think about it.

And then he arrived: the final IC 515, hauled by 1144 223.

A perfect ending — because sometimes, it’s best to stop when things are at their best.

Perfect weather in November? Almost unheard of in my experience. Walking the beach at Pacific City was soothing after a hectic week.

CN L586 crosses the Mississippi River into Iowa with the IANR 4101 leading in phenomenal afternoon light, which for this job is almost unheard of.

These guys had a surprising amount of work across the river on the BNSF side, and they were ready to come back home about 1:00. After they ran around, it was quickly realized the 4101 wasn’t in BNSF’s PTC system. It took them about 3 hours to try everything possible to not run PTC-exempt, and they eventually just did instead.

Meanwhile, on the Iowa side, M338 had come to work Dubuque, but couldn’t due to otherwise blocking L586, who had 33 cars for him. The solution was to let M338 sit at Wood until it was back in the yard. CPKC K39 also showed up during this time, also looking to work Dubuque, and the CN denied them as well.

L586 finally crossed the river at 4:15 PM, 3 hours after they tried to come back. 338 finally began working almost immediately after, which would then prevent L565 from leaving for a few hours, despite that crew being on duty for over an hour. Talk about a mess.

With the heatwaves of recent weeks unheard of, Simkha prefers to stay inside during the day, where it is much cooler. And he loves to play with his new catnip toy.

Thank you for visits. favs and comments, it's greatly appreciated.

AAW November 2 - 9: Looking Down

WIT: With the restrictions here, I am not going out much, so I have been taking more walks around my area, discovering trails. This weekend has been unseasonably warm, in the mid 20's C - tee-shirt weather in November is unheard of here! Looking down at the last of the leaves - not as colourful anymore, but the light was kind of cool. In post, I adjusted some colours, and sharpened a little, then cropped to square. Best viewed large.

1948 Tucker

Some might say that Preston Tucker was a genius, and whether that's true, or not, is certainly debatable. But, I think we all could agree that he was a visionary with his car, and it's design. Advanced concepts that would take years and even decades for other car manufacturers to follow suit with, if at all. Air cooled rear engines, front wheel drive, electric assist manual transmission shifter, safety features largely unheard of in production cars at the time. Features like pop out windshield in the event of an accident, disc brakes, seat belts, padded dash, front right passenger safety zone, a third headlight that moved as the car turned, surely, I missed some. Some of these already had found a home in his first effort, the '48, and if he had remained in business his later models would have included those items not yet on the 48. The car I will show over the next series of shots was present at the annual Lime Rock Labor Day event in '24. It happens to be the 44th one produced out of the 51 he made before he, and his company got into trouble. The Big 3 had to be threatened by Preston's dream car, and one has to wonder what role they had played in Tucker's eventual demise? What made seeing this car special at the show was a chance to meet and talk with Tucker's grandsons, twins I believe, and they had brought number 44 to the show.

Amazing to think how often you spot these birds nowadays - when I was a child they were almost unheard of in the UK.

Taken on the North Norfolk Coast.

We noticed lots of patches of webbing in the bushes at Hamworthy Beach , then saw warning signs on posts, lamposts, you name it. We also spoke with a number of passers - by who were local to the area. Apparently there's been an infestation of these in the area which was unheard of before. . Read more about them here...

www.rhs.org.uk/biodiversity/brown-tail-moth

Foggy morning Swan. I have lived here for years and a Swan is an almost unheard of occurrence on our lake. A good memory.

Night image of Via Laietana in Barcelona, ​​with the Gothic Quarter in the foreground, specifically the Angel Square, formerly known as the Wheat Square. When, in 878, the remains of Saint Eulalia, a Roman martyr and former patron saint of Barcelona before La Mercè, were moved from the cemetery where they rested to the cathedral, which had just been consecrated to her, the impossibility for the entourage to raise the coffin again after a break in front of the city's main portal, at the beginning of the current Jaume I Street, gave rise to a miracle. When people asked for a sign from Heaven, an angel appeared -the reason for the new name of the square to nowadays- who pointed to one of the priests who was taking part in the procession. It was then that the priest had to confess to having stolen a finger of the saint as a relic. That supernatural fact explained the mystery of the unheard weight of the coffin of a saint who refused to enter incomplete the city and the cathedral that had just been dedicated to her. The photograph, a long exposure that shows the streams or light trails of the vehicles, is taken from the mouth of the Argenteria Street, which goes down the Ribera neighborhood to the door of the other great Gothic temple in the city, Santa Maria del Mar.

Back in the mid-1990s CPR usually had 200 or more leased units on hand. You could almost count finding at least one every train you saw. Finding two on a train wasn't unheard of such as this westbound running through the frozen swamp west of Puslinch. The 3rd unit is obviously of UP heritage, the 2nd unit now owned by Helm carries the colours it gained when it promoted "Paducah-built" for VMV.

I have never stopped to thank you, ” Lord”

For the thorns in my life you gave.

I’ve only looked at the blooms on top

Of the roses that you’ve made.

But the thorns are there to always remind me

Of the suffering you had endured.

And for all the tears you’ve shed for me

And your cries that went silently unheard.

Thank you Lord for the thorns

For they’re pokes, have made me stronger yet.

To handle all I have to, ” My Lord”

And more I will inevitably come yet to get.

by Linda Winchell

Tuesday, April 28, 2009

1948 Tucker

Some might say that Preston Tucker was a genius, and whether that's true, or not, is certainly debatable. But, I think we all could agree that he was a visionary with his car, and it's design. Advanced concepts that would take years and even decades for other car manufacturers to follow suit with, if at all. Air cooled rear engines, front wheel drive, electric assist manual transmission shifter, safety features largely unheard of in production cars at the time. Features like pop out windshield in the event of an accident, disc brakes, seat belts, padded dash, front right passenger safety zone, a third headlight that moved as the car turned, surely, I missed some. Some of these already had found a home in his first effort, the '48, and if he had remained in business his later models would have included those items not yet on the 48. The car I will show over the next series of shots was present at the annual Lime Rock Labor Day event in '24. It happens to be the 44th one produced out of the 51 he made before he, and his company got into trouble. The Big 3 had to be threatened by Preston's dream car, and one has to wonder what role they had played in Tucker's eventual demise? What made seeing this car special at the show was a chance to meet and talk with Tucker's great grandsons, twins I believe, and they had brought number 44 to the show.

Mainline coal wasn't as unheard of in the Conrail days as it is today. Eastbound coal trains routinely took the main line, with helpers tying on to the rear to help with the journey east. On a day in June of 1989, an eastbound loaded coal train rumbles through Cavittsville, just east of Trafford, with a pair of SD45-2 helpers giving all they have on the rear.

CR 6664. Cavittsville, PA.

June 18, 1989. David Baer photo.

Adam Klimchock collection.

Quick grab shot from my new OMD EM-1 on a day out with the family. Loving not having to lug heavy equipment around and still getting great quality. Taken handheld which is unheard of for me really

Excerpt from www.hmdb.org/m.asp?m=76332:

Victoria Lawn Cemetery 1855

The first person to be buried on this land was a sailor known simply as Brooks. that year, 1855, when the land was still known only as Potter's Fields, seven others were also buried, beginning the establishment of St. Catharines' largest and most historically significant cemetery.

Officially opened in 1856 as St. Catharines Cemetery, it was unusual in that it was an all-denominational burial ground, virtually unheard of in the 1800s. While plots in different sections were assigned to various religious denominations, all residents, regardless of denomination, were to be buried in the cemetery.

Opening just four years before the outbreak of the American Civil War there was also a large number of Blacks buried in here: in fact, nearly one-third of all burials were recorded as "coloured." Many of these people were buried in the area originally known as Potter's Field.

This site holds some of the most important and influential figures of St. Catharines' history. These graves include Rev. Anthony Burns, Hon. William Hamilton Merritt, and Dr. Theophilus Mack. As well, a number of Canadian was veterans are buried in this cemetery.

Something odd had happened. One morning towards the end of the first week I woke up. Well ok, I woke up every morning - half a lifetime has passed since my late teenage era when I gradually honed a 2pm to 4am lifestyle into something of an art form, But waking up before sunrise is something that has always been highly irregular in my foggy little world. Regular visitors to my page may have already noted that I don’t do sunrise shoots, and if I were living on the east coast rather than the west, I’d probably never have become quite so immersed in this landscape photography lark. Just now and again, and almost exclusively with some special mission in mind, I might just creep out rubbing the sleep from my eyes while the world remains hidden in shadows with just the merest hint of light breaking its way over the eastern horizon. Unplanned morning expeditions are almost unheard of. In fact I can only think of one such occasion - a New Year’s morning three years ago, when, equally unusually, West Cornwall was covered in a thin blanket of snow.

Now, here in Zakynthos I’d woken up, peered blearily at my watch on the bedside cabinet and turned over with the intention of going back to sleep. It was long before seven and I usually see the other side of nine o’clock before dragging myself out of bed and heading unerringly in the direction of the kettle. But sleep wouldn’t come. The beach was a three minute walk from the apartment and being on the east coast of the island began, a peculiar notion gradually came into focus. I could get up, walk down to the beach and take some photographs. Maybe there would be some medium or high level clouds that would light up like a fire in the sky. I couldn’t actually see the sky because it was still quite dark, and opening the shutters to inspect the conditions more closely was only going to wake Ali up - and she sleeps even longer than me in the mornings. So I crept out, strolled down to the beach, took some shots, witnessed a kingfisher flying low across the water right in front of me, got stung on the right calf by a belligerent wasp, chatted to a local man who was out for a morning jog, and befriended a stray cat that wrapped its tail lovingly around one of the legs of my tripod. Then I went back to the apartment. No award winning shots to speak of - just a faint golden glow in the saddle at the end of the silhouetted headland beyond the edge of town. Even without a shot, there was a certain sense of triumph at having defied my natural instincts at this time of day. Coffee an hour earlier than usual. I might even have a second cup a bit later. It’s surprising what passes for decadence when you’re in your desperately late fifties.

The next morning I was up again. The forecast the night before had suggested I might be in for a treat, so nursing a still sore calf I marched back to the same spot, this time wearing jeans to reduce the target area for passing insects with aggressive designs. The clouds I’d been hoping for remained almost non-existent, but there was just enough interest around the glowing patch of brightening light to try all over again. No kingfishers, no joggers, no cats, and happily, no tiresome wasps to distract me this time. It still isn’t a shot that’s going to win an award any time soon - but it’s a story that deserves its place in the Zakynthian archive. To think that just a few hours later, the first wristband wearing all inclusives would be loitering a few yards away, nursing ice cold pints of lager, steadfastly refusing to budge more than six inches from the hotel grounds for fear of missing out on the breakfast buffet. I mean I like a cold beer as much as the next person, but not until lunchtime at the very earliest. People often ask if we go all inclusive, and then assume we’re cheapskates when we say we don’t. Well we are cheapskates of course - everyone knows that - but this is merely a happy coincidence as far as we’re concerned. After all, when you struggle to crawl out of your bed sometime after nine in the morning and steadfastly refuse to leave that beach on the other side of the island until long after the sun has set, “normal hours” hardly apply do they? Forever two or three hours behind the main body of the flock, we’re not very good at conforming.

It wasn’t the last time I got out of bed for sunrise either. It took until almost the end of the holiday to drag my sorry hide out for one last morning, but I did it - heading for a group of olive trees a little further along the coast. It is possible when needs must. But it’s not going to be a regular occurrence any time soon. Something of that long slumbering teenager still remains, especially since I found the exit door from the daily grind. But now and again I’ll make a special effort. When there’s a worthwhile shot lying in wait that is.

It's almost unheard of for me to do a long exposure flowing water shot, but on this occasion I thought I'd do something different. This was taken on the National Trust's Goodameavy Estate where the River Plym tumbles off Dartmoor to join the River Meavy just outside the village of Shaugh Prior. This is on the edge of Dartmoor National Park, a few miles from Plymouth.

A pair of GP9RMs, 4139 & 7080 were the local power in Rockingham in spring of 2023. While getting a GP9 east of Montreal was relatively uncommon even just a few years back, getting a pair together was unheard of. The 1400 Rockingham yard crew is seen pulling a string of empties off the HIT including two empty cans for PSA downtown on the headpin on April 2, 2023.

LA&L 420 & 433 shove 25 cars down the Kraft Spur in Avon, NY on December 11, 2018. There was no train to Genesee Jct. The crew worked Barilla Pasta then went back to Lakeville to finish up the day switching there. Sunshine is an unheard of commodity in this part of New York at this time of year. We might see sunshine once a week.

I arrived here for the first and only time so far in March 2022. The weather hit temperatures unheard of for this time of year. I came by train and stopped at Stranraer for a couple of hours waiting for my bus to Isle of Whithorn where I would stay for three days. I was heading for a pilgrimage to St Ninian’s cave and Whithorn priory. After three trips to the Isle of Iona, it was time to broaden my horizons.

those we love don't go away

they walk beside us every day. Unseen, unheard but always near

Our Loved one so missed----so very near.

It's been off and on all day with intermittent sun and snow - weird but not unheard of. 70's by week's end. Took this from my backyard.

Image Taken at Clef des champs

maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Clef%20des%20champs/120/82/28

The Lighthouse

-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882)

The rocky ledge runs far into the sea,

And on its outer point, some miles away,

The Lighthouse lifts its massive masonry,

A pillar of fire by night, of cloud by day.

Even at this distance I can see the tides,

Upheaving, break unheard along its base,

A speechless wrath, that rises and subsides

In the white lip and tremor of the face.

And as the evening darkens, lo! how bright,

Through the deep purple of the twilight air,

Beams forth the sudden radiance of its light

With strange, unearthly splendor in the glare!

Not one alone; from each projecting cape

And perilous reef along the ocean's verge,

Starts into life a dim, gigantic shape,

Holding its lantern o'er the restless surge.

Like the great giant Christopher it stands

Upon the brink of the tempestuous wave,

Wading far out among the rocks and sands,

The night-o'ertaken mariner to save.

And the great ships sail outward and return,

Bending and bowing o'er the billowy swells,

And ever joyful, as they see it burn,

They wave their silent welcomes and farewells.

They come forth from the darkness, and their sails

Gleam for a moment only in the blaze,

And eager faces, as the light unveils,

Gaze at the tower, and vanish while they gaze.

The mariner remembers when a child,

On his first voyage, he saw it fade and sink;

And when, returning from adventures wild,

He saw it rise again o'er ocean's brink.

Steadfast, serene, immovable, the same

Year after year, through all the silent night

Burns on forevermore that quenchless flame,

Shines on that inextinguishable light!

It sees the ocean to its bosom clasp

The rocks and sea-sand with the kiss of peace;

It sees the wild winds lift it in their grasp,

And hold it up, and shake it like a fleece.

The startled waves leap over it; the storm

Smites it with all the scourges of the rain,

And steadily against its solid form

Press the great shoulders of the hurricane.

The sea-bird wheeling round it, with the din

Of wings and winds and solitary cries,

Blinded and maddened by the light within,

Dashes himself against the glare, and dies.

A new Prometheus, chained upon the rock,

Still grasping in his hand the fire of Jove,

It does not hear the cry, nor heed the shock,

But hails the mariner with words of love.

"Sail on!" it says, "sail on, ye stately ships!

And with your floating bridge the ocean span;

Be mine to guard this light from all eclipse,

Be yours to bring man nearer unto man!"

" Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard, are sweeter.”

(John Keats)

CP H15 starts up Short Line Hill with BNSF 1943 and 261 for power. This power is from the previous day's BN-CP, which died in St. Paul Yard. Not an unheard of occurrence, but certainly not something you see everyday. They had too much tonnage for these two units, so the crew had to bring the train up to the Commercial in two cuts. This was their second trip. Wish that 1943 was in H4, but it's one of the better looking BN painted SD40-2s since it has no AC and a clean PTC installation.

"All day the head had been barely supportable but at evening a breeze arose in the West, blowing from the heart of the setting sun and from the ocean, which lay unseen, unheard behind the scrubby foothills. It shook the rusty fringes of palm-leaf and swelled the dry sounds of summer, the frog-voices, the grating cicadas, and the ever present pulse of music from the neighbouring native huts.'

- Evelyn Waugh

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Although not unheard of, there are more American Robins choosing to take their chances on overwintering in Calgary instead of migrating to warmer climes. It does freak out some Calgarians who have relied on returning Robins to signal that Spring has arrived. It's also not out of the realm of possibility that these are indeed migratory Robins from much further north - with global warming, they appear to be ranging closer to the arctic, and perhaps this is as far they can fly....

This photo is for a couple of projects. Firstly, my 365-photo-a-day project, but also my new album of birds that I have photographed in 2019. Having an American Robin as the first of the photos in that album is excellent, as they are rare sightings in the winter, but ubiquitous in the summer, with many birders muttering disappointedly, "It's only a Robin" after thinking it was something more interesting.

Passed by this old farm recently and was saddened to find the old buildings had been demolished. Saddened but not surprised. They were on their last legs when I last visited. Not only had they been razed, but brand new buildings had been erected on the very ground where they once stood. Absolutely no trace remained of the rural veterans. I always feel a weird ambivalence at times like these. Sorry to see the demise of local landmarks, but happy that I managed to capture their visual essence. To me there's just something special about being there for the end phase. And here the end was absolutely imminent. The old barns literally imploding from the weight of collapsed roofs and pulling the walls into precarious angles. I had a feeling when I was standing here that I would never return. It made the moment even more exquisite and I lingered as long as possible. Situations like this don't come around every day. I must confess to a feeling of possessiveness about old abandonments. I'm always nosey and a bit apprehensive whenever I see a car parked at an abandonment that I've visited. I wonder who is there and what they're up to. Not that I begrudge others from visiting, but always in the back of my mind is the thought that someone will come along and one-up me with an even better image. It's an odd feeling I know because I'm always being one-upped every time I look at photos from flickr people that I follow. And I really to thrill in their (your) success. It's just weird when the photo is of a place that I found and managed to get access to (almost unheard of around here, but my thought process is as irrational as ever). Certainly demolition puts an end to that concern. And this farmstead joins the growing ranks of places that exist now only in pixel arrangements.

Why would you ride a bike when the forecast called for this. I hope he made it home OK, but this also puts drivers in danger if he falls. Icy roads are not kind, being mindful of how you travel does not just affect yourself.

Pictures mostly traveling to Vancouver and in Vancouver around February 11, 2019. Snow and such in Vancouver, which is not unheard of, but people still aren't good with it. Kind of rare.

Item four in my current series of Dahlias is a cultivar called Hapet Elite. This Dahlia, whose flowers are sometimes described as waterlily-shaped, is one of a number of exhibits that have the leading "Hapet" in their name. Hapet being a Dutch family that is known for its Dahlia creations. While, from what I can tell, it is not extremely common to find the grower's brand in the cultivar's name, it is also not unheard of. I've even seen one grower who slightly changed the genus name of their offering to Dahlia* (* think Daliatastic or similar) and reserving that name. Again, with thousands of growers competing in the space, some that are focused on cultivating garden dahlias may feel the need to destinguish their product.

cultivar called Mandarin , the first picture of this series, is accompanied by information about the classification decorative Dahlias while some general information about Dahlias can be found here.

As I go through my photos, more Dahlias will join this series and be added to my Dahlia album.

It took awhile for CN to lose most of the business on the ex DSS&A that WC had so painstakingly built up over the years. The Munising local is backing clear of the M-123 crossing at Trout Lake with 3027 and 3012 leading 38 cars on March 12, 2002. Nowadays it's dropped back from tri-weekly to bi-weekly with a single unit and a train of 38 cars would be unheard of.

John Heinz NWR

When I encountered this immature hawk today I thought it was a hatch-year bird. But the orange eyes (thanks, Jon!) and heavily worn plumage seem to rule that out. Late molts aren't unheard of, I think, The cute face (for a hawk) looks familiar too. So this may actually be Monday, one of the 2016 Eakins Oval chicks. I last saw her back in April.

Macro Monday - Redux 2019

This was a chance to pick any subject from this year. I decided on handmade.

I made this card a while back. I made the embellishment by covering a small rectangular board with sparkly fibres (angelina fibres) then threading tiny beads and stars on crinkle wire and wrapping it around the board, after edging it with a silver leaf pen. I then wrote Christmas Sparkle on the card...you may just about make that out, I chose a very shallow depth of field as I wanted the image to look soft and (of course) high key. I have a larger version of this on my shower room wall. Who doesn't love a bit of sparkle? HMM

I've been absent from Flickr for longer than usual. Lack of time and lack of mojo. Today is the first time I have picked my camera up in ten days, this is unheard of for me. I am really hoping my mojo will return in the New year.

Wishing you all a very happy and healthy New Year.

A rather deserted Royal Mile in Edinburgh - unheard of in the context of the usual high tourist season which runs across July and August.

The Royal Mile is a succession of streets forming the main thoroughfare of the Old Town of the city of Edinburgh in Scotland. The term was first used descriptively in W M Gilbert's Edinburgh in the Nineteenth Century (1901), "...with its Castle and Palace and the royal mile between", and was further popularised as the title of a guidebook, published in 1920.

From the Castle gates to the Palace gates the street is almost exactly a mile (1.6 km) long and runs downhill between two significant locations in the royal history of Scotland, namely Edinburgh Castle and Holyrood Palace, hence its name. The streets which make up the Royal Mile are (west to east) Castlehill, the Lawnmarket, the High Street, the Canongate and Abbey Strand. The Royal Mile is the busiest tourist street in the Old Town, rivalled only by Princes Street in the New Town, (but not in 2020).

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Use of my images without my explicit written permission is an infringement of copyright law.

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In Italy, quite near the border of the country with Austria and Switzerland, there is Lake Reschen (Lago di Resia or Reschensee), in the middle of which an old bell tower rises. Local legend says that in winter, when the pond is covered with ice, the bells of the long-removed bells ring out from here. It is as if the dead ministers of the church, buried in graves that remained under water, pull invisible ropes - and a hymn to the glory of the Lord sounds, unheard by many...

Lake Rezia, six kilometers long and one wide, is of artificial origin - it serves as a reservoir for water used for the needs of a nearby hydroelectric power station. The flooded bell tower towering above the waters of the lake is all that remains of the city of Graun (Curon), which once stood on this site.

Click to ZooooOOOoooMM!

► PlAy

Chris..my husband, the love of my life! Always putting me first, always honest, always there no matter what, your love is rare..unheard of especially these days!! You accept me for who I am and know me better then most! You make me feel sexy, you make me feel wanted and you are an amazing father to our kids. We've had our ups and downs, you never gave up on me and you continue to deal with my insanity ;p...my heart, my soul, real life and second!! Im all yours, forever and always!

Explosion

A good way to begin the New Year.

Seeing this U23C was unheard of before the merger.

Burlington's idea of what the new paint scheme should be.

5205-1992-1993-820

1-1-72

The sides of this sunken track are about 8-9 ft high in places which makes for an excellent location for the Back Light Scanner. There was a fallen tree down the bottom end of the image which gave us a little bit of a challenge, stepping over it mid-flow was a good reason to nail the shot 1st go. Unheard of!

PDS-03990

One thing I really miss in winter is birdsong, so imagine our delight when we saw our crabapple tree full of robins recently. They shouldn't be in Maine now and I don't know if they are late flying south, or if they have decided to winter over. The robins were eating all the berries they could find and they swooped and cavorted through the branches of the tree all morning long. Then, as if by signal, unheard by me, they suddenly departed. If you have the time, or inclination, click through the pictures to see this happy visit.

The string of berries you see on the tree are cranberries we we use to decorate our Thanksgiving turkey :-)