Waterproof & Weatherproof Analog Underwater
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As Autumn approaches, just before rutting season when all you can see is hardened antlers, as above, a soft velvety layer covers male deer antlers. While the velvet covering is indeed beautiful, its purpose is much more functional and protective than it looks. Deer velvet is a contributing factor to antlers being the fastest growing tissue of any mammal.
It's purpose is not to weatherproof. The velvet contains a network of blood vessels and nerves and acts as a protective layer for the hardening antlers underneath. It allows the antlers to reach their full potential so that they can be used by the male during rutting season, to bash other antlers, so to speak...
When velvet shedding happens, it is the signal that the rut is beginning.
Located at the northern end of Monterey Bay, Santa Cruz Harbor is a haven for fishing craft and vessels. A harbor light, located at the west jetty, has marked its entrance for forty years. The original light was a box light structure which served from 1964 – 1996. It was replaced by a cylinder nicknamed “the water heater” which was used from 1996 – 1999. From 1999 until May 2002, a simple pipe structure held the light which marked the way into the harbor.
In 1998, the Santa Cruz community, under the leadership of Bill Simpkins and Jim Thoits, proposed replacing the unsightly harbor light with a lighthouse of classic design, adding a little more character to a community renowned for its characters. Fundraising efforts began in earnest, and with the contributions of many people, including a major donation from Charles Walton of Los Gatos, enough money was raised to begin construction of the new lighthouse in 2001.
The lighthouse, designed by Mark Mesiti-Miller and constructed by Devcon Construction, Inc., stands 41 ½ feet tall above the level of the west jetty, and 59 ½ feet above the mean low water mark. It weighs 350,000 pounds and is built to withstand a quarter million pounds of wave energy.
The construction began with a cylindrical inner core which houses electrical equipment and a circular staircase of forty-two steps which lead to the top of the lighthouse. Surrounding the inner core is a network of reinforcement rods, onto which “shotcrete” was blown and then hand-troweled to form the conical shape. These shotcrete walls are 4 ½ feet thick at the base. Finally, a durable weatherproof white finish was applied to the exterior of the lighthouse and a copper roofed lantern room topped it all off.
On June 9, 2002, the new harbor lighthouse was dedicated, and the signal, a green light flashing every four seconds at a focal plane of thirty-six feet, was activated. It is named the Walton Lighthouse, in honor of Mr. Charles Walton’s late brother, Derek, who served in the merchant marines and was lost at sea during World War II.
And here's the rain that accompanied the rainbow I posted yesterday. Ying and yang! I love the rain, but my camera doesn't, so I've been thinking about a smaller, lighter, more weatherproof camera - suitable for street photography but has some versatility too - limited budget (maybe secondhand). Does anyone have any recommendations?
Many thanks!
On a rainy day ...
... at a small mountain lake in the Swiss alps
A little story about the picture: We were so looking forward to this weekend, where we wanted to visit this mountain lake all together. The weather forecast did not bode well, but we were still hopeful that there would be some nice moments. Unfortunately, the weather was even worse than the forecasts said, because on the first day it rained almost constantly and it was bitterly cold. Arriving at the accommodation, we still wanted to hike that day to the lake high in the mountains. Everything was gray and wet and we could therefore walk very badly. When we arrived at the little lake, it was still raining and the fog was low over the mountains. We only saw the water from the lake. We could not even recognize the trees all around. We were all alone up there. (Normally there are some visitors on this amazing place.) That was the beautiful side of this weather, because it was so quiet and peaceful in this wild nature. We arranged ourselves with the weather and tried to capture this mood with our cameras. Somehow it should work, after all, they should be weatherproof, according to the manufacturer. Well, we could test that extensively on this day. It was not very long and our cameras were completely wet with all the accessories. We started to freeze because everything was wet on us too. We then tried desperately to avert the damage. At some point we gave up and tried to focus only on photographing, which we partially succeeded, as the rain for a few minutes became less or stopped altogether. Out of this background, this photo was taken here. We spent a whole afternoon in the rain and in the evening anyway or just because of that, we were all happy together with a good and warm dinner in the accommodation.
Addition: Both of my cameras were totally wet including bags and still worked after that day. So both survived the hard test in the swiss alps, because the next day it rained on and I continued to shoot with both cameras !!!
By the way, I've never seen more intense colors in the fall than on those rainy & unforgettable days in the swiss mountain world. I learned something new, that you can also enjoy the rainy weather as well.
Dire Straits-Why Worry
The snow has melted unfortunately , I hope he comes back soon - I love the winter! :)
Happy weekend!! :)
...is what I call waiting until the last moment to quickly pull your very non-weatherproof camera out of the way of an incoming wave, then trying not to get wiped out by the undertow!
Ghost Glalss Frog (Sachatamia ilex)
For Earth Day 2017 here is a photo of one of the coolest frogs I have ever found from my recent trip to Costa Rica. This is the Ghost Glass Frog and it was found on a night hike in the heavy rain at the Costa Rica Amphibian Research Center. This shot was taken in the pouring rain. This frog presented itself after we were photographing a large arboreal lizard that we found perched in some bushes. The lizard started to move a little as we were photographing it and it scared up this cool frog which we were hoping to see. The frog ultimately jumped to this leaf where I took a series of close up pictures.
Costa Rica has so much degraded and destroyed habitat which has been converted to farmland especially for Bananas. The future of beautiful frogs like this rests in better care taken over wetland ecosystems and the lands which drain into them.
Batten down the hatches, the Seatruck "Clipper Point " from Liverpool on its final leg towards Dublin Port, the right side of the breakwater along the Great South Wall tames the wild Irish Sea.
Located at the northern end of Monterey Bay, Santa Cruz Harbor is a haven for fishing craft and vessels. A harbor light, located at the west jetty, has marked its entrance for forty years. The original light was a box light structure which served from 1964 – 1996. It was replaced by a cylinder nicknamed “the water heater” which was used from 1996 – 1999. From 1999 until May 2002, a simple pipe structure held the light which marked the way into the harbor.
In 1998, the Santa Cruz community, under the leadership of Bill Simpkins and Jim Thoits, proposed replacing the unsightly harbor light with a lighthouse of classic design, adding a little more character to a community renowned for its characters. Fundraising efforts began in earnest, and with the contributions of many people, including a major donation from Charles Walton of Los Gatos, enough money was raised to begin construction of the new lighthouse in 2001.
The lighthouse, designed by Mark Mesiti-Miller and constructed by Devcon Construction, Inc., stands 41 ½ feet tall above the level of the west jetty, and 59 ½ feet above the mean low water mark. It weighs 350,000 pounds and is built to withstand a quarter million pounds of wave energy.
The construction began with a cylindrical inner core which houses electrical equipment and a circular staircase of forty-two steps which lead to the top of the lighthouse. Surrounding the inner core is a network of reinforcement rods, onto which “shotcrete” was blown and then hand-troweled to form the conical shape. These shotcrete walls are 4 ½ feet thick at the base. Finally, a durable weatherproof white finish was applied to the exterior of the lighthouse and a copper roofed lantern room topped it all off.
On June 9, 2002, the new harbor lighthouse was dedicated, and the signal, a green light flashing every four seconds at a focal plane of thirty-six feet, was activated. It is named the Walton Lighthouse, in honor of Mr. Charles Walton’s late brother, Derek, who served in the merchant marines and was lost at sea during World War II.
This mural was originally painted between 1871 and 1876 to celebrate the 800th anniversary of the Wettin Dynasty, Saxony's ruling family, in order to make the work weatherproof, it was replaced with 23,000 Meissen Porcelain tiles between 1904 and 1907, with a length of 102 metres (335) feet.
Der Fürstenzug in Dresden ist ein überlebensgroßes Bild eines Reiterzuges, aufgetragen auf rund 23.000 Fliesen aus Meißner Porzellan. Das 102 Meter lange, als größtes Porzellanwandbild der Welt geltende Kunstwerk stellt die Ahnengalerie der zwischen 1127 und 1873 in Sachsen herrschenden 34 Markgrafen, Herzöge, Kurfürsten und Könige aus dem Geschlecht des Fürstenhauses Wettin dar.
The Procession of Princes in Dresden, Germany, is a large mural of a mounted procession of the rulers of Saxony. It was originally painted between 1871 and 1876 to celebrate the 800th anniversary of the Wettin Dynasty, Saxony's ruling family. In order to make the work weatherproof, it was replaced with approximately 23,000 Meissen porcelain tiles between 1904 and 1907.
The Fürstenzug (English: Procession of Princes) in Dresden, Germany, is a large mural of a mounted procession of the rulers of Saxony. It was originally painted between 1871 and 1876 to celebrate the 800th anniversary of the Wettin Dynasty, Saxony's ruling family. In order to make the work weatherproof, it was replaced with approximately 23,000 Meissen porcelain tiles between 1904 and 1907. With a length of 102 metres (335 ft), it is known as the largest porcelain artwork in the world. The mural displays the ancestral portraits of the 35 margraves, electors, dukes and kings of the House of Wettin between 1127 and 1904.
The Fürstenzug is located on the outer wall of the Stallhof (Stables Courtyard) of Dresden Castle.
--Wikipedia--
ODESSA: "Don't throw me a snowball! You ruin my nice Polar Bear coat!"
OTIS: "Polar Bear coats should be weatherproof after all! .... or is your coat synthetic? ..."
DB 66105 departs from Nuneaton, after stopping for crew change, with the 617Z 11.31 ex Halewood (Jaguar Cars) to Southampton Eastern Docks
Exhaustively tested the weatherproofing of my camera and lense
It's late afternoon and I'm stood beneath the less weatherproof section of awning at the southern end of Crewe station, thankful that the current downpour has managed to find its way on to the platform and provide a nice basis for light reflections.
Without the motivation of a camera shot, the passenger walking towards me engaged in a phone conversation might be less thankful as he hurries towards to the front of the carriage, and shelter.
The train is a Siemens-built 'Desiro', unit 350111, working LNWR's 4.32pm service to London Euston (1U38). Quite a respectable service it is too taking the direct route and 2 hours 18 minutes for the 158 miles to Euston with most stops being in the Trent Valley between Stafford and Rugby.
With less than 5 minutes to scheduled departure time, the driver is getting himself settled in and happily hasn't yet turned off the cab lights so ensuring a bit of extra detail is captured.
Technically it's far from a perfect offering, and it's certainly pushing the capability of the camera, but there's something about the combination of colours and the atmosphere that I find appealing.
A shot that's better viewed full screen.
1/15s @ F7.1, 2000 asa (auto, less 2.0 stops under-exposed).
4.28pm, 26th November 2019
Portugal
“Schist” is a type of crystalline metamorphic stone. It is easily split, creating a flat surface. For centuries, this “horizontal” stone became the ideal building material to create weatherproof, secure houses. Today, many original homes made of schist still stand and remain occupied by the residents of the village.
Chinese roof tiles of the green-glazed variety. Every time I see these tiles, of which there are many out here, they remind me of Michael Palin's 'Around the World in 80 Days' adventure in which he was challenged by Terry Gilliam to return with such an item as proof of distant travel. This he did, prising a tile from the roof of a rundown railway building in China. The tiles shown in this photo however, currently keep Hong Kong's Lung Mo Temple weatherproof and removal for whatever reason is unlikely to be appreciated !
Waipapa Point Lighthouse is a lighthouse located at Waipapa Point, Southland, New Zealand. It was first lit on 1 January 1884.
The lighthouse was built in response to the wreck of the passenger steamer Tararua on reefs off Waipapa Point on 29 April 1881, with the loss of 131 lives. With its sibling, the retired Kaipara North Head Lighthouse, this was one of the last two wooden lighthouses built in New Zealand.
The lighthouse was automated and keepers withdrawn in 1975. It has been solar powered since 1988. A new LED beacon was installed externally on the balcony of the lighthouse in December 2008. Restoration work conducted in 2008 ensured it was weatherproof and secure from vandalism.
Coade stone was stoneware that was often described as an artificial stone in the late 18th and early 19th centuries. It was used for moulding neoclassical statues, architectural decorations and garden ornaments of the highest quality that remain virtually weatherproof today.
An escalator is a type of vertical transportation in the form of a moving staircase which carries people between floors of a building. It consists of a motor-driven chain of individually linked steps on a track which cycle on a pair of tracks which keep them horizontal.
Escalators have the capacity to move large numbers of people. They can be placed in the same physical space as a staircase. They have no waiting interval (except during very heavy traffic). They can be used to guide people toward main exits or special exhibits. They may be weatherproofed for outdoor use. A nonfunctional escalator can function as a normal staircase, whereas many other methods of transport become useless when they break down or lose power.
Every week, Underground escalators travel the equivalent distance of going twice around the world. 90. According to TFL, London Underground trains travel a total of 1,735 times around the world (or 90 trips to the moon and back) each year.
There are 440 passenger escalators on the London Underground. This is at Green Park.
Remember early last year when Storm Freya paid an energetic visit to our shores one feisty weekend at the beginning of March? Possibly not; after all the storms seem to roll in one after another towards the end of the winter around here. This year it was the same, with Ciara, Dennis and Jorge arriving from the west to enliven February. Apparently the last one was due to be named Ellen in keeping with the alphabetical sequencing theme, but our friends in Spain saw it first and gave it a more continental flavour. We do get a lot of storms along the west coast of the British Isles. At least they had the decency to arrive at the weekends to bring a bit of drama to our photographic adventures.
Freya was also a weekend visitor, and it seemed rude not to head five miles down the road to Portreath to watch the action, elbow to elbow with a generous number of fellow camera wielding visitors as is always the case when the weather gets a bit exciting here. Eventually I managed to entrench myself in my favorite corner of the few square yards that provide this vantage point. In this chosen spot you can watch incoming rollers that race towards the inner harbour drench the unsuspecting viewers on the edge of the quay below as you wonder whether you should have warned them (although I suspect they're aware and they do it for fun). Occasionally one of the bigger waves will carry enough force to even reach our lofty position so you have to be ready to spin through one hundred and eighty degrees and crouch down rapidly to protect your precious camera equipment. It doesn't matter how weatherproof the camera is. Sea waterproof it is not.
On this visit I didn't bother with a tripod - a rare thing - and I set the camera in burst mode. This resulted in sifting through almost 700 RAW files later in the day, from which I picked a few. Sometimes I feel that the more fun I have actually taking the shots, the less pleasure it brings when I have to decide which of the fruits of my labour I'm going to work with. Until recently I'd left the folder full of images untouched, but just a few days ago I decided I needed to clear some space on the laptop. 700 files became a still confusing 28, which made this morning's happy little spell of absent minded pottering about in Lightroom slightly easier than it otherwise would have been. It's still challenging, because every image I've kept has a different aspect that catches my eye. What I liked about this one was the curtain of water cascading from the harbour wall.
The are probably still one or two more I might share from this session. Once I've furrowed my brow at the remaining 27 shots in confusion that is.
Happy Sunday Flickr friends.
The Fürstenzug (English: Procession of Princes) in Dresden, Germany, is a large mural of a mounted procession of the rulers of Saxony. It was originally painted between 1871 and 1876 to celebrate the 800th anniversary of the Wettin Dynasty, Saxony's ruling family. In order to make the work weatherproof, it was replaced with approximately 23,000 Meissen porcelain tiles between 1904 and 1907. With a length of 102 metres (335 ft), it is known as the largest porcelain artwork in the world. The mural displays the ancestral portraits of the 35 margraves, electors, dukes and kings of the House of Wettin between 1127 and 1904.
The Fürstenzug is located on the outer wall of the Stallhof (Stables Courtyard) of Dresden Castle.
Phasianus colchicus male
We get lots of Pheasants in the garden, this one was sneaking around the back path trying to look inconspicuous.
I was going to do a close up of the feathers in a more abstract image but maybe that's for another day.
Got the hide weatherproofed today!
Aus der Nierentischepoche stammt der Soester Kleinbahnhof, der gottlob nicht abgerissen, sondern unter einem wettersicheren Dach der Nachwelt erhalten wurde. Die Geschichte der Kleinbahn gib es hier.
Soest narrow gauge train station dates back to the German "kidney table era" in the 1950s and, thankfully, wasn't demolished but preserved for posterity under a weatherproof roof.
Durch Imprägnierung werden die Kinderturnschuhe wetterfest gemacht
Impregnation makes the children's gym shoes weatherproof
Waipapa Point Lighthouse is a lighthouse located at Waipapa Point, Southland, New Zealand. It was first lit on 1 January 1884.
The lighthouse was built in response to the wreck of the passenger steamer SS Tararua on reefs off Waipapa Point on 29 April 1881, with the loss of 131 lives. With its sibling, the retired Kaipara North Head Lighthouse, this was one of the last two wooden lighthouses built in New Zealand.
The lighthouse was automated and keepers withdrawn in 1975. It has been solar powered since 1988. A new LED beacon was installed externally on the balcony of the lighthouse in December 2008. Restoration work conducted in 2008 ensured it was weatherproof and secure from vandalism.
Decided to stand under a large waterfall to test the Nikon's weatherproofing feature. It held up perfectly, as it should.
Malinda Aeon sliced through a curtain of vines with her machete, feeling the satisfying give as the blade parted the thick vegetation. Sweat trickled between her breasts, soaking the white halter top that strained against her curves. Ahead of her, Morgan Talbot's broad shoulders flexed beneath his damp tank top as he forged their path deeper into the jungle's suffocating embrace. The heat pressed against them like a living thing, wrapping around their limbs and drawing moisture from their bodies with each labored breath.
"How much further?" she called out, adjusting the shorts that clung to her thighs. The olive canvas material had darkened with sweat, riding up slightly as she stepped over a fallen log.
Morgan paused, turning back to glance at her with those piercing green eyes. "Getting tired already, Lin?" A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, softening his rugged features.
"Just wondering if you actually know where we're going." She caught up to him, close enough to smell the earthy scent of his sweat mingled with leather from his boots and wrist cuffs. "Or if we're just wandering aimlessly through this green hell."
Her knee-high laced boots sank slightly into the damp earth with each step, providing stability that ordinary hiking boots couldn't match in this terrain. They were practical—unlike the halter top that left her midriff exposed to insect bites and scratches, the bottom curves of her breasts visible beneath the straining fabric. But Malinda had never been one to sacrifice style entirely, even on expeditions.
Morgan wiped sweat from his brow, his tank top clinging to his chest like a second skin. The suspenders framed his broad torso, drawing her eye downward to where his canvas pants tucked into leather boots not unlike her own. The holster at his waist held a .45 caliber 1911 automatic pistol—a vintage piece he carried with the easy familiarity of an extension of himself.
"The temple should be just beyond that ridge," he said, nodding ahead. "According to your map."
"My very accurate map," she corrected, reaching to her belt where her archaeological tools hung in neat order: a small brush for delicate excavation, a specialized hammer, measuring tape, and a compact digital camera weatherproofed for the elements. "Unlike your sense of direction."
The pack slung over Morgan's shoulder shifted as he pushed aside a particularly thick cluster of ferns. "My sense of direction got us out of that cave system in Peru."
"After getting us lost for three hours."
He turned, walking backward for a few steps. "I prefer to call it 'taking the scenic route.'"
Malinda's laugh caught in her throat as the temple suddenly came into view behind him. "Morgan," she whispered, pointing past his shoulder.
He pivoted, his hand instinctively moving to rest on the grip of his pistol. "Holy shit," he breathed.
The temple rose from the jungle floor like a forgotten titan, its moss-covered stones a testament to centuries of neglect. Massive stone steps led to a platform where columns supported what remained of the roof. Vines crawled up the structure, nature reclaiming what man had built, yet somehow enhancing rather than diminishing its grandeur. Sunlight filtered through the canopy above, casting dappled patterns across the ancient stonework.
"It's... perfect," Malinda murmured, stepping forward. Her short bob clung to her neck, damp with sweat, but she barely noticed the discomfort now. The archaeologist in her was already cataloging details—the carved symbols nearly obscured by moss, the architectural style suggesting a civilization previously undocumented in this region.
Morgan moved ahead of her, his body language shifting to alert watchfulness. "Stay behind me," he said, his voice dropping to a lower register. "We don't know what's still living in there."
"Besides ghosts and legends?" She followed him nonetheless, appreciating the way his muscular frame moved with controlled precision. The leather cuffs around his wrists caught the light as he reached back to ensure she stayed close.
"And possibly very real predators," he reminded her, the pack on his shoulder bouncing slightly as he began to ascend the crumbling steps. "The locals weren't exactly encouraging this little expedition."
Malinda's fingers trailed along the stone banister, feeling the textures of history beneath her touch. "Locals always have tales to keep treasures safe. It's practically archaeology 101."
"And sometimes those tales exist for good reason." Morgan's voice echoed slightly as they reached the temple platform. His hand never strayed far from his holster, the .45 a reassuring presence at his side.
The air inside the temple entrance was noticeably cooler, a welcome relief from the oppressive jungle heat. Malinda pulled a small flashlight from her belt, sweeping its beam across walls decorated with intricate carvings partially obscured by centuries of growth. Her breath caught as the light illuminated a particularly detailed section.
"Morgan, look at this." She stepped closer to the wall, her fingers hovering just above the surface. "These glyphs match the descriptions in the manuscript. The diamond is here."
He moved beside her, close enough that his arm brushed against hers, sending a jolt of awareness through her that had nothing to do with archaeology. "Can you read them?"
"Enough to know we're in the right place." Her eyes gleamed with excitement in the flashlight's reflection. "The inner chamber should be further in, past a series of traps designed to keep out the unworthy."
"Wonderful," Morgan muttered, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward. "And I suppose you have some clever way to bypass these traps?"
Malinda shot him a smile that had gotten her both into and out of trouble countless times before. "That's why I brought you, darling. Those muscles aren't just for show."
He shook his head, but she caught the spark of amusement in his eyes. "One of these days, Lin..."
"You'll thank me properly," she finished for him, already moving deeper into the temple, her boots echoing on the stone floor. "After we find the Tears of Ishaara, you can show me exactly how grateful you are."
Morgan adjusted his pack and followed, his footsteps measured and alert. "Let's focus on surviving first."
The temple opened before them, shadows dancing in the beam of Malinda's flashlight. The weight of centuries pressed down, a tangible presence as real as the humidity that clung to their skin. Somewhere in the depths of this ancient structure lay a diamond worth more than money—a piece of history that could rewrite everything they thought they knew about this forgotten civilization.
And Malinda was determined to find it, with Morgan's strong presence at her back and his gun at the ready. The thrill of discovery pulsed through her veins, as intoxicating as any drug and far more addictive. This was what she lived for—this moment of standing on the precipice of revelation, with danger and desire intertwined like the vines that embraced the temple walls.
Malinda's fingers traced the weathered hieroglyphs that adorned the inner chamber walls, her trained eyes picking out patterns in the ancient text. Morgan kept watch near the entrance, his stance wide and vigilant, one hand resting lightly on his holstered pistol. The silence inside the temple felt laden with anticipation, broken only by the distant calls of jungle birds and the occasional drip of water from the moss-covered ceiling. Then came a sound that belonged to neither—a long, sinister hiss that sliced through the heavy air like a blade, freezing them both where they stood.
Morgan's head snapped up, his green eyes narrowing as they met Malinda's across the chamber. In three swift strides, he crossed to her, his movements silent despite his heavy boots. His hand closed around her wrist with gentle urgency.
"Don't move," he whispered, his breath warm against her ear.
The hiss came again, louder this time, accompanied by a scraping sound like massive claws dragging across stone. Without hesitation, Morgan pulled Malinda behind a thick moss-covered column, pressing her against it with his muscular arm wrapped protectively around her waist. Their bodies aligned, his chest against her back, heartbeats accelerating in tandem.
"What the hell is that?" Malinda breathed, barely audible even to herself.
The column was barely wide enough to conceal them both. Morgan's body formed a shield around her smaller frame, his suspenders pressing into her exposed back where her halter top left her skin bare. She could feel every contour of his muscled torso through the damp fabric of his tank top, the heat of him seeping into her despite the temple's relative coolness.
A shadow passed over the light streaming in from the temple entrance. Something massive moved across the roof above them, dislodging centuries-old debris that pattered down onto the stone floor. Malinda tilted her head back, her short bob brushing against Morgan's chin as she tried to glimpse what lurked above. The movement brought her hips into firmer contact with his, and she felt his grip on her waist tighten fractionally.
"Oh my god," she whispered, her lips unintentionally brushing his ear as she turned her head. "Is that a dragon?"
The creature appeared at the temple entrance, its sinuous neck extending into the chamber. Scales the color of jade caught the filtered sunlight, refracting it across the ancient walls in hypnotic patterns. A forked tongue flicked out, tasting the air. The dragon's head alone was the size of a small car, crowned with horns that curved elegantly backward from its skull.
"I've never seen one before," Morgan responded, his voice a tightly controlled vibration against her back, "but yeah, that's as good a description as any."
His free hand moved to his side, drawing the .45 automatic in a fluid motion that spoke of years of practice. The metal gleamed dully in the half-light, its presence reassuring despite Malinda's certainty that bullets would be useless against the creature investigating their sanctuary. The cool steel brushed against her exposed midriff as Morgan shifted, creating a startling contrast to the heat building between their pressed bodies.
"That's not going to do much," she murmured, nodding toward the gun.
"Makes me feel better," he replied, a hint of grim humor in his voice. "Old habits."
The dragon's massive body slithered further into view as it crawled across the temple rooftop. Sections of ancient stone crumbled beneath its weight, dust motes dancing in the shafts of sunlight that penetrated the canopy above. Its scales rippled with iridescent life, each one the size of Malinda's palm. The creature moved with surprising grace for its bulk, its long tail sweeping behind it like a living counterweight.
Malinda found herself holding her breath, conscious of every point where her body connected with Morgan's. The danger should have eclipsed all other awareness, yet somehow it only heightened her senses. She could smell the leather of his wrist cuffs, the earthy scent of his sweat, feel the controlled rise and fall of his chest against her back. His thighs pressed against the backs of hers, solid and warm through their respective canvas pants and shorts.
The dragon paused directly overhead, its massive head swinging side to side as though searching. A low rumble emanated from its throat, vibrating through the temple stones beneath their feet. Morgan's arm tightened around Malinda's waist, pulling her impossibly closer as they pressed deeper into the shadow of the column.
His lips nearly touched her ear as he whispered, "Don't. Move."
The command sent an inappropriate shiver down her spine, one that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the authority in his voice and the possessive press of his body around hers. Malinda bit her lip, suddenly aware of the rapid thud of her heart—was it terror or excitement that made it race so?
The dragon's forked tongue flicked out again, tasting the air mere feet from their hiding place. Its eyes were amber orbs with vertical pupils that contracted in the shifting light. Ancient intelligence lurked in those depths, a predatory awareness that seemed to peer through centuries with cold calculation.
Morgan's finger rested alongside the trigger guard of his pistol, not on the trigger itself—disciplined even in extremity. The metal had warmed slightly from his grip, but still felt cool when it brushed against Malinda's bare skin as he adjusted his stance. The contact drew her attention to the heat building elsewhere between them, a warmth that coiled low in her belly despite the mortal danger looming above.
Minutes stretched like hours as they remained frozen in place. Malinda became acutely conscious of the rhythm of Morgan's breathing, deliberately slow and controlled, and found herself matching it instinctively. In and out. The synchronicity created an unexpected intimacy, their bodies falling into a shared cadence as they waited.
A distant sound—perhaps an animal call from deeper in the jungle—caught the dragon's attention. Its massive head swiveled toward the temple entrance, nostrils flaring. With a final rumbling hiss that seemed to reverberate through the ancient stones, the creature withdrew, its body moving with fluid grace across the rooftop.
Neither of them moved immediately, straining to track the dragon's retreat. Morgan's arm remained firmly around Malinda's waist, his pistol still raised in his other hand. She could feel the tension in him, coiled and ready despite the creature's apparent departure.
"I think it's gone," she finally whispered, her voice sounding unnaturally loud in the renewed silence.
Morgan didn't immediately loosen his grip. Instead, his head dipped slightly, his nose brushing against her hair as he inhaled deeply. "For now," he murmured, his breath stirring the damp strands at her nape.
When he finally stepped back, breaking the full-body contact that had both protected and discomposed her, Malinda felt a momentary loss. She turned to face him, her back now pressed against the column, finding his eyes locked on hers with an intensity that had little to do with the dragon and everything to do with the charged space between them.
"Well," she said, attempting lightness despite her quickened breath, "that wasn't in any of the local legends I researched."
A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "You always did find the unexpected, Lin."
His pistol remained in his hand, a reminder of the danger still lurking somewhere above them. But his eyes, as they held hers in the dappled light of the ancient temple, promised an entirely different kind of peril.
The echo of the dragon's passage faded into the temple's ancient stillness. Malinda watched as Morgan holstered his pistol with practiced efficiency, his gaze never leaving hers. Something had shifted between them in those moments of pressed bodies and shared breath—something that had nothing to do with survival and everything to do with the electric awareness that now charged the air around them. Without words, they understood it was time to move deeper into the temple, away from the creature that lurked above, but the heat in Morgan's eyes promised this was far from over.
"We should keep moving," he said, his voice rough at the edges. "Downward. Those stairs." He nodded toward a narrow stone staircase that descended into darkness at the far end of the chamber.
Malinda nodded, retrieving her fallen flashlight from where she'd dropped it in their rush to hide. "The manuscript mentioned a lower chamber. That's likely where we'll find the diamond."
They approached the stairs cautiously, alert for any sound that might signal the dragon's return. The stone steps were worn smooth by centuries of use, slick with moisture that condensed in the cool air of the temple interior. Morgan took the lead, testing each step before committing his weight.
"Careful," he warned, extending his hand back to her. "These are treacherous."
Malinda slipped her hand into his, feeling the calluses on his palm—testament to a life of action rather than theory. His grip was firm, steadying, a counterpoint to the uncertain footing beneath them. As they began their descent, his other hand found the small of her back, fingers splayed protectively across her exposed skin.
The touch sent a current up her spine that had nothing to do with the danger they'd just escaped. Morgan's hand was warm and sure, guiding her with a gentle pressure that felt more like a caress than a practical measure. Malinda found herself hyper-aware of each point of contact—his palm against hers, his fingers against her lower back, the occasional brush of his shoulder against hers when the stairway narrowed.
They moved in perfect synchronization, as if they'd been exploring together for years rather than days. When Morgan paused, Malinda halted instantly; when he sidestepped a crumbling section of stair, she mirrored his movements without needing direction. The rhythm of their descent became almost hypnotic—step, pause, test, continue—a dance of trust and shared purpose in the dim light of her flashlight.
The air grew cooler as they descended, carrying strange scents of ancient stone and something else—perhaps incense burned centuries ago, its essence somehow preserved in this sealed chamber. Malinda's archaeologist mind cataloged these details even as another part of her remained acutely conscious of Morgan's proximity, of the way his tank top stretched across his shoulders as he navigated the narrow passage ahead of her.
At the base of the stairs, they emerged onto a small landing. Morgan's hand lingered at the small of her back as they paused to catch their breath and assess their surroundings. The beam of Malinda's flashlight revealed a corridor extending ahead, its walls adorned with carvings more elaborate than those above.
"Look at these," she whispered, sweeping the light across depictions of robed figures bowing before a central dais. "They're worshiping something."
Morgan stepped closer to examine the carvings, his breath warm against her cheek. "The diamond?"
"Must be." She turned to look at him and found his face inches from hers, his eyes reflecting the flashlight's beam. The adrenaline that had surged through her during their encounter with the dragon hadn't dissipated—it had merely transformed, becoming something equally urgent but far more pleasurable.
Morgan's gaze dropped to her lips, then back to her eyes, a question in their depths. The hand at her back pressed slightly firmer, drawing her closer. Malinda felt her breath catch, her body responding to his nearness with a rush of heat that belied the temple's cool air.
She turned fully toward him, her eyes gleaming with mischief and undisguised want. "We should be quiet," she murmured, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper. "Wouldn't want to attract any... unwanted attention."
The last word had barely left her lips before Morgan's mouth claimed hers. The kiss was neither tentative nor gentle—it was hungry, demanding, as if he'd been holding himself back for too long. His hands moved to her waist, fingers digging into the bare skin above her olive shorts, pulling her against him with an urgency that matched her own surging desire.
Malinda responded instantly, her arms wrapping around his neck, fingers threading through his damp hair. The flashlight clattered forgotten to the stone floor, its beam creating wild shadows as it rolled. She pressed herself against him, feeling the hard planes of his chest against her breasts, the beat of his heart matching the frantic tempo of her own.
His mouth was hot and insistent, tongue sliding against hers in a dance as synchronized as their descent had been. One of his hands moved up her bare back, fingers splaying across her shoulder blades, while the other dipped lower, pulling her hips firmly against his. The leather of his wrist cuff was cool against her heated skin, a delicious contrast that made her gasp into his mouth.
Morgan broke the kiss only to trace a path of fire along her jaw to her ear. "I've been wanting to do that since the moment you showed up in those shorts," he growled, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through her.
Malinda laughed breathlessly, her hands sliding down to feel the strong muscles of his back through the damp tank top. "Only since then? I've been distracted by those suspenders since we started this expedition."
His teeth grazed her earlobe in response, drawing a soft moan from her that echoed slightly in the ancient corridor. They both froze, suddenly remembering the danger that lurked above them. After a moment of tense silence with no sound of the dragon's return, Morgan pressed his forehead against hers, his breathing ragged.
"We need to focus," he murmured, though his hands still held her close. "Find what we came for."
"And then?" Malinda challenged, her fingers tracing the line where his suspenders crossed his broad back.
A slow smile spread across his face, transforming his rugged features into something that made her heart skip. "And then I'll show you exactly what I've been thinking about doing to you for the past three days."
They separated reluctantly, both breathless and flushed. Morgan bent to retrieve the flashlight, handing it back to her with a lingering touch that promised more. When he straightened, his eyes held both desire and determination.
"Let's find that diamond quickly," he said, adjusting his holster where it had shifted during their embrace. "I've got plans for you once we're out of here."
The words sent a thrill of anticipation through Malinda that had nothing to do with archaeological discovery. She nodded, forcing her mind back to the task at hand despite the lingering heat of his touch on her skin.
"The inner chamber should be just ahead," she said, directing the flashlight beam down the corridor. "According to the manuscript, the Tears of Ishaara sits on a pedestal carved from a single piece of obsidian."
They moved forward together, their steps purposeful and in sync. The tension between them hadn't diminished—if anything, that brief taste had only intensified their awareness of each other—but it now fueled their determination rather than distracting from it.
Malinda felt Morgan's presence at her back like a tangible force, protective and possessive in equal measure. The dragon above, the diamond ahead, and the promise of pleasure to come—all combined to create a heady mix of danger and desire that made her feel more alive than she had in years.
As they approached the chamber that might hold their prize, Malinda cast a sideways glance at Morgan's profile, admiring the determined set of his jaw and the intensity of his focus. Finding the diamond had always been her goal, but now she had an entirely new reason to complete this mission quickly and successfully.
This was the most powerful waterfall I ever visited. Luckily my non-weatherproof Olympus OM-D was tough enough to survive the shower without damage.
That's why I wanted a roof on my car! Bloody summer!
Pro tip: When going in the backyard to take pictures in the rain, you might want to don a raincoat or carry a roof on a stick.
Toy Project Day 3248
High tide and a stormy wind, a perfect combination for photography. But also a bit complicated. It is a battle to keep everything including myself dry. Did I succeed? No, haha! This wave splash came so high, I did find the sea salt in my ears later that evening. I think this says enough. ;-) The Nikon Z6 proved to be weatherproof. ;-)