View allAll Photos Tagged Washed
This huge wash sprawled across the desert floor. I tried to imagine it with water flowing through it. Would the water reach as high as where I stood? (As one of those “worst case scenario” kind of people, I’m always looking for an escape path.) High winds on this day kicked up sand high into the atmosphere, softening the horizon and creating wonderful depth.
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"Washed Ashore"
Awesome light today at Bandon Beach. The tide was very low so I had to literally get in the water to find some foreground interestingness. The tide can cover over 100 foot of beach so there is constantly changing compositional oppurtunities. Loved it and can't wait to go back!
Silver-washed Fritillary, female, A form known as a Valezina,
Bedford Purlieus, Cambridgeshire.
20th July 2023.
Flying visit to Charmouth this morning. I had to be back by 8am so not much time, and conditions were a bit meh, but found a nice bit of driftwood to play with and just nice to be out with the sound of sea and the wind in my hair.
Have a great weekend.
It is cold and easy to get a flu. So I have to wash my hands frequently, the easy and efficient way to protect ourselves from a cold or a flu.
Wash over me
Watch the waves
Wash over me
Let the water cleanse my soul
Sweeping waves that make me whole
I'll be a different man you'll see
Here are two more pics in my "washed ashore" series. I am amazed how different each is from the other. In this one, the boat is relatively still (no motion in the mast), since I caught it between waves.
The pic below is quite different, with much more wave motion and therefore motion to the boat itself. The pic above clearly shows the boat "beached," while the pic below seems to suggest that the boat is heeled over and moving. And, of course, both of these pics are different from the one I posted a few days ago.
The challenges of shooting with a lot of wave action!
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The Carreau Wendel Museum is the museum of the Wendel-Vuillemin coal pit, in Petite-Rosselle on the Saarland, Lorraine border. Though often in Germany, since 1945 it has been in Moselle department France.
The museum is an Anchor point on the European Route of Industrial Heritage.
The Wendel 1 pit was closed in 1989, Wendel 2 in 1992 and Wendel 3 in 2001. The first piece of coal was mined in Petite-Rosselle in June 1856, at the Saint-Charles pit. These pits are in France but surrounded on three sides by the national border with Germany. Several pits were dug between 1862 and 1889: Wendel 1, Wendel 2, Vuillemin 1 and Vuillemin 2. Emile Vuillemin was the consulting engineer for Charles de Wendel and Georges Hainguerlot's company- Compagnie Anonyme des Mines de Stiring. The coal produced was primarily used to fire the Wendel steelworks. The company became - Les Petits-fils de François de Wendel et Cie in 1889.
After the Second World War, the government required the industry to triple the Lorraine coal production within ten years. In the 1946 nationalising, the Wendel assets were assigned to public company Houillères du bassin de Lorraine. The Wendel 3 pit was dug in 1952, and in 1958 was equipped with the new wash house 3. The Wendel 1 and 2 pits were modernised and equipped with new headframes. After 1960, the coal recession hit: the company modernised wash house 1-2 in 1962 by creating a new module on top of the former wash house, adapted to the existing equipment. Operations and investment continued up until 1986 when central activities ceased. Some infrastructure continued to be used up until 1989 serving other pits in the Wendel franchise.
The museum is presented in several section. The simple tour shows the life of the miner and the hazardous working conditions. There is then an opportunity to take a guide tour down the workings seeing the machinery current when the last deep mine in France closed in 2004. There is an AM 100 heading machine, G210 electro-hydraulic loader, Electra 2000 shearer and ANF winning machine, roof supports etc.
“At this rate we’ll probably all get washed away before summer.” Neil’s gloomy assessment as we drove home from Wednesday evening’s five a side session through the rainy streets didn’t seem such a wild exaggeration. By now I’d been back from Fuerteventura for three weeks, and as far as I could recall, only one day had passed when the heavens hadn’t opened for business. Even though we play indoors, my football boots were feeling distinctly damp, just from navigating the puddles along the path from the leisure centre entrance to the car park. At home, the garden looks like a marshland, and the front of the house is surrounded by a moat. Useful if we get besieged by politicians once the election is called I suppose, but other than that it’s really getting a bit much now. More rain forecast for tomorrow, and another named storm as well - even though we're on the other side of Easter now. I keep expecting to find ducks living on the side of what used to be the lawn. Will it ever be dry again, I wonder? Just let South West Water try and bring in another hosepipe ban this summer and see the natives revolting. Or the revolting natives.
At least I made something of that one dry afternoon - heading for the usual spot for the first time in over a month. The van was in need of an outing, and I fancied brewing a cup of tea and sitting down to watch the sea through the opened side door. Sometimes I just like to watch and listen, with a book close at hand, and hopefully some chocolate biscuits hidden in a drawer that haven’t gone over their sell by date. I had a stack of images from my holiday to keep me occupied, and I wasn’t particularly bothered about adding to the archive today. It was only as I made ready with the tea bags, milk and water that I remembered what happens when I don’t take the camera - I’ve still not forgotten the blood red sunset at Porthtowan the previous winter when the bag had been deliberately left at home. Into the overhead cab it went, although I had no real intention of using it. I hadn’t even looked at the tide times, nor had I consulted the weather forecast other than to confirm that it looked as if I’d be staying dry for a change. I’d also failed to check on the battery in the camera - hopefully the spare in the bag was fully charged.
It was high tide in the middle of the afternoon when I flipped over the switch to the reassuring hiss of butane filling the copper pipe that feeds the hob. As the kettle steamed its way to a whistling crescendo, I looked out at a grey sky, thought to myself “black and white,” and promptly settled down with my book. It was only three o’ clock, and there was plenty of time to take a stroll over the dunes and perhaps take some photographs. And then it struck me that I’d taken a couple of sighters on my phone towards the end of last summer before dumping them into a folder called “compositions” for another time. Both of them were taken on a nearly full tide from the rocks below where I was now parked. Perhaps this was the time to give them a try. After my tea, I sauntered down to the beach.
Half an hour later I was back at the van, boiling the kettle again. I’d taken a few shots to keep myself amused, but the spot I needed to get to was out of reach for the time being - at least it was if I didn’t want to wade through two feet of water sloshing through the gulley that separates this group of rocks from the beach when the tide is full. No matter though - I’d go back, have another cuppa, read another chapter and head back down a bit later. Not having to rush anymore is such a simple joy these days. Sometimes you have to stop and remind yourself of these easy wins in life.
And so here I was - looking along a crack in the rocks that I must have passed hundreds of times before and never noticed until last September. The cloud had lifted to reveal a pastel blue sky to offset the orange in the rocks, while the sea rushed in and out of the space below. Little did I know that we’d have two weeks and counting of pouring rain to follow, so it was probably a good job I did grab the camera before setting off towards the ocean that day.
...is something I say a million times a day!! Not to the cats of course, to my boys.
I guess in this case it should read *Wash your paws.*
:-)
Just more experimenting!
73-365
I was walking along the beach in Bournemouth after Storm Barbara and there was lots of debris, flotsam and jetsam washed onto the beach. It got me thinking what view this rubbish would have of the beach, so hence this low down perspective.
Stratified rock and color seem to flow through wash no. 10 in Valley of Fire State Park near Las Vegas, Nevada.
View the entire Las Vegas Set
View my - Most Interesting according to Flickr