Contre-plongeons
View allAll Photos Tagged bottomless
Thor's Well, Cape Perpetua, Oregon.
Thor’s Well is an old sea cave that has collapsed, creating almost a “drainage pipe” to the ocean. It’s a seemingly bottomless hole that thrashes and sprays water as the waves crash in and out. I was watching the tidal wave charts each day and knew that to get a shot I wanted I had to be there about an hour before or after high tide. The problem is that I also didn't want to ruin my gear or possible have the crashing waves hit me and knock me down on the jagged lava rocks that surround the "well". I was there early enough to get the drainage shot I hoped for and yet still feel comfortable to not get knocked down by a sneaker wave. You have to get very close in order to achieve the look down into the top hole and while the ocean looks far away it literally isn't. The wide angle here is exaggerating the depth of the land. 6 stop ND filter was used.
If I had to choose what distinguish my part of Sweden from the rest I would say it is our mires that you can find all over my region. Now when the mist comes in the fall it is an awesome place to be. There is something mysterious about the mires. Swedish folklore tells us that a long time ago people used to believe that the mist on the mires were dancing elves. If you visit the mires and keep still and quiet you usually will see elks and deers sneaking about. One should however be very careful when one visit these mires because they are really dangerous to walk on. A lot of people have vanished in the bottomless parts of the mires.
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When one squeezes an orange, orange juice comes out, because that’s what’s inside. So when you are squeezed? One wonders what comes out from inside of you!
So, be patient: Everything has its own time!
You can't make an orange mature right away because just you are hungry or succumb to greed, like a bottomless pit which exhausts the person in an endless effort to satisfy the need without ever reaching satisfaction.
So, like this Sweet Butterfly, just sucking up enough juice for reinvigorating within, to achieve his own goal!
And then flyway and start all over again.
This capture of this very beautiful butterfly was taken with my 40mm macro lens at The Butterfly House of Birmingham Botanical Gardens. On my recent visit to the Birmingham Botanical Gardens.
Where one can see Butterflies feeding on sugar-water feeders and saucers of fermenting fruit such as bananas, apples, and oranges.
And I found this one on a small piece of an orange, which looks like him sucking up on the orange juice...
Mind you, I did feel that I wanted to join in with him here?
Because that orange did really look very juicy!
Also was very glad that I could be able, to get a well close-up of this little beauty.
Also, it's amazing to learn about Butterflies and moths have four stages of life: egg, larva (the caterpillar stage), pupa (the chrysalis phase in a butterfly's development), and adult. It takes a Monarch butterfly just 28 to 32 days to complete its life cycle.
Many thanks for your cool comments and compliments from you here, my good flickr friends !!!
Parang Mountains, Romania
Lake (Tern) Şureanu or Iezerul Şureanu called the Bottomless Lake is considered one of the most beautiful glacial lakes in Romania. It is located at an altitude of 1840 m on the bottom quartile of the East Peak cirque Şureanu.
Thor's Well, Cape Perpetua, Oregon.
Thor’s Well is an old sea cave that has collapsed, creating almost a “drainage pipe” to the ocean. It’s a seemingly bottomless hole that thrashes and sprays water as the waves crash in and out. I was watching the tidal wave charts each day and knew that to get a shot I wanted I had to be there about an hour before or after high tide. The problem is that I also didn't want to ruin my gear or possible have the crashing waves hit me and knock me down on the jagged lava rocks that surround the "well". I was there early enough to get the drainage shot I hoped for and yet still feel comfortable to not get knocked down by a sneaker wave. You have to get very close in order to achieve the look down into the top hole and while the ocean looks far away it literally isn't. The wide angle here is exaggerating the depth of the land. 6 stop ND filter was used.
white-breasted robin (Eopsaltria georgiana)
"Hmm, it's a bottomless pit! No amount of food is enough."
Subtle inspirations exquisite feelings,
Craving for beauty is a glorious magnet;
It gives bliss a moment of madness,
Splendor lures into secrets.
White rose - open tenderness
It is fragrant in a shady garden,
The dew covered her whiteness,
nourishing her beauty with affection.
Bright colors of floral melodies
Hymns are dedicated to her beauty;
A wonderful wonder of kind nature,
It shines gently in its purity.
The bright joy of the risen morning
He sings a song about happiness to her softly;
And in anticipation of a miracle
He sends butterflies, calling them to fly. The path to an infinity of wonderful searches,
Refined sanctity in a simple petal,
Humble pride, the wisdom of farewells,
Devotion to the air, the sun, the earth,
The breath of the wind hums in the petals,
The roots penetrate into the bowels of the stones
In search of a sip of bright happiness
And explanations of its essence....(a rose from my garden)
Compositionally Challenged Week 40: Lens Distortion
My attempt at the "Looking Close... on Friday" theme "In a bottle".
Shot with an Agfa "Ocellar 3.5 cm" (projection) lens on a Canon EOS R5.
May your hearts be filled with spring beauty, human warmth and bottomless, heavenly purity. May your souls open up to true, quiet happiness, incomparable to anything — Christ is Risen! May the unquenchable flame of the triumph of life burn brightly in your eyes, may the Lord protect you! Be happy, my dear friends!!!! Everything that you see in the photo, I cooked myself, I treat you too....!!!!
No messing about this time with fancy vouchers for fancy food in fancy restaurants. If food were football formations this would be a no nonsense 4-4-2 featuring two full backs sporting prison haircuts and a pair of centre halves the size of shire horses with keenly sharpened size fourteen boots. Behind them, a goalkeeper that bears an uncanny resemblance to a bulldozer with shovel-like hands to match. None of your tika taka interchangeable diamonds in the midfield - just a pair of ferocious terriers flying into tackles - that sort of thing. On the wings, a couple of turbo charged whippets with blinkers on and an over reliance on either the left or right peg, depending upon which side of the pitch they’re stationed. Up front, a hefty lump with a prodigious leap, several missing teeth and a forehead shaped like an industrial steam iron. Just behind him, the only one who can actually play football, a Will O’ the Wisp waif whose job it is to dance through the opposition and give the ball to the big lad.
Yes, today we weren’t going anywhere near the upmarket open wallet surgery establishments designed to empty the pockets of wandering tourists in Mousehole or elsewhere. The Morrison’s cafe in Long Rock, a mile east of Penzance awaited our pleasure with its cordon bleu fish and chips covered in a healthy splat of tartare sauce, accompanied by a pot of tea - free refills on hot drinks if you didn’t know. Who needs filet mignon covered in pomegranate seeds and a glass of the ‘72 Chablis when you can have a full size plate of proper grub that’s been prepared by the good fryers of Morrison’s kitchen? Meerkat discount, that’s twenty-five percent off by the way. Two plates of decent nosh and a bottomless pot of tea for twelve quid. Last week we could barely get one starter for twelve quid when we finally used that voucher over at Gurnard’s Head. There’s no denying the quality of the food we had, but fine dining is for people with overflowing bank accounts and cultured palates.
And do you know what? The fish fryer at our chosen establishment does a fine job. Even Ali’s eighty-seven year old mother gushes with praise about the Morrison’s cafe at Long Rock, and she’s notoriously hard to please when it comes to eating out. In those fancy places we’re always on edge, convinced we’re being frowned upon by the waiting staff and our fellow diners, even though it’s probably just our imagination. Here, if you thank the team and tell them how much you enjoyed the fish, it really does seem to make them happy. Our standard tactic, made all the easier by our frankly slovenly attitude to mornings, is to arrive after two thirty, long after the lunchtime rush has been cleared from the tables and settle in for an hour or so, enjoying the peace. This works all the better in the summer months when you’re not in an enormous hurry to get to where you’re bound for. Sunset after nine - there’s really no need to rush.
And where weren’t we rushing to this afternoon you ask? Today we were going “down west” as we call it here, to the wilds of Penwith. A mini Dartmoor-on-Sea with ponies grazing among swathes of bracken, heather and gorse. Only once before had we parked at the old Carn Galver tin mine, and I’d been planning to go back ever since. On that afternoon we traced the natural coastal fortress of Bosigran Head, before following the footpath towards Porthmeor Cove and then back again via the quiet coast road, meeting small groups of ponies as we went. What we hadn’t done that day was to head inland and up the slopes towards the rocky tors of Carn Galver itself. From here, across a field of purple heather that glowed in soft summer sunlight, a series of headlands that ended with Pendeen Lighthouse disappeared into a dreamy blown out haze. And from that moment the deal was done. I’d come here to photograph Bosigran Head at sunset, but instead I’d be yomping up here again later with the camera bag. Ali declared she’d done enough yomping today and would watch the sunset from the van, so I returned alone. I had the place completely to myself. Well, apart from the steady chomping and the occasional whinny from our equine friends as they stomped about the bracken enjoying their own version of fine dining.
After all was done, another gastronomic delight awaited me in the van. Eggy bread and a can of Brewdog Session IPA from the fridge. A very happy ending to this series of tales on the subject of dining out. It doesn’t get more comforting than eggy bread dipped in the contents of a sachet of brown sauce - which was liberated from Morrison’s at lunchtime of course. A fine way to end a day of food and cultural enrichment at the edge of the world in West Cornwall.
Sound Sea
Sound sea, bottomless sea, endless sea.
Your beauty increases when we are alone
And your voice is so intimately deep
The most secret dance of my dream follows.
What moments are there when I suppose
You are a miracle created just for me.
Sophia de Mello Breyner Andresen
The Roaches, a prominent rocky ridge situated above the Staffordshire town of Leek and Tittesworth Reservoir in the Peak District of England. The ridge has some spectacular rock formations and rises steeply to 505 m.
We reached the trig point and descended to this point, just before Doxey Pool. The eerie Doxey Pool, rumoured to be the home of a seductive mermaid by the name of Jenny Greenteeth who entices passers by into the dark deathly waters that are rumoured to be bottomless.
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100x walks #33
This characterful sheep greeted me at the halfway point of a long thirteen miler a couple of weeks ago. I rather liked her jumper that she said she'd knitted herself. She resides at Ouseburn Farm that 'is a charity based in the heart of Newcastle Upon Tyne' and 'a city farm providing a great day out for all the family as well as offering a training and education centre for vulnerable adults and school children'.
Nothing better than starting a day at the cozy, local cafe where life seems slowed down and coffee comes in a bottomless cup. . .
I finally managed to catch the baby blackbird after many hours of patient sitting on the lounge-room floor by the window. These two came perfectly within close range for me.
The adult blackbird was clearly thinking "my goodness - it is a bottomless pit down there!"
Uncle Bottomless sat slumped by the barrel, gut spilling out like an overripe pumpkin, fist welded to his dented cup. The bastard wasn’t drinking to taste — he was drinking to erase. His beard stank of stale ale, piss, and forgotten meals, while his eyes floated somewhere between rage and rot. The villagers called him a saint of the cellar, but it was mockery — he’d drained more kegs than prayers were ever spoken in the chapel. He belched like a dying ox, wiped his greasy paw on his robe, and muttered curses at ghosts nobody else could see.
Image originally generated with DALL-E, then enhanced through upscaling in Leonardo AI and finally refined with Topaz Gigapixel AI.
Floating high, floating low
Reflections shine and they flow
Between the shores, over the lake
Chasing waves that race and break
Over the blueness, the bottomless deep
Where reflections rest, but never sleep
Bottomless vales and boundless floods,
And chasms, and caves, and Titan woods,
With forms that no man can discover
For the tears that drip all over;
Mountains toppling evermore
Into seas without a shore;
Seas that restlessly aspire,
Surging, unto skies of fire;
Lakes that endlessly outspread
Their lone waters- lone and dead,-
Their still waters- still and chilly
With the snows of the lolling lily.
By the lakes that thus outspread
Their lone waters, lone and dead,-
Their sad waters, sad and chilly
With the snows of the lolling lily,-
By the mountains- near the river
Murmuring lowly, murmuring ever,-
By the grey woods,- by the swamp
Where the toad and the newt encamp-
By the dismal tarns and pools
Where dwell the Ghouls,-
By each spot the most unholy-
In each nook most melancholy-
There the traveller meets aghast
Sheeted Memories of the Past-
Shrouded forms that start and sigh
As they pass the wanderer by-
White-robed forms of friends long given,
In agony, to the Earth- and Heaven.
-- Edgar Allan Poe. Dream-land (excerpt)
Tonight's moon, shrouded.
“Love is a Bottomless-Pit, it is a Carnivore, a Harpy, that devours every thing”
Original quote was by John Arbuthnot, hope I didn't break any laws by changing it slightly?;~) Basically Substituted Law for Love.
hehe gotta love lawyers too...
Believe it or not this was captured inside a telephone box that resembled something like the Tardis from the old TV show "Dr. Who".
Inside the box is like being in an elevator shaft that gives quite an uneasy feeling because it looks and feels as though you could fall for miles into this bottomless pit. Anyway whilst I was in the box all the lights went out and because these effects work from light and glass I could see something quite frightening above me. I remember yelling a brief obscenity because I got such a fright . Turned out it was my own reflection that scared me, when I stepped out of the phone box I was greeted by a line of tourists with very amused faces.
Optical illusion created with mirrors. I have visited this interesting museum on January 10, 2020 and taken this photograph.