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I can only compare the beauty of this road to the Icefield Parkway, in the Canadian Rocky Mountains. Here is a series of this gorgeous road, so you can appreciated its beauty. I know this is not doing justice to this magnificent scenery, but it was what I was able to capture for you.
Going-to-the-Sun Road is the only road through the heart of Glacier National Park in Montana, USA. It was completed in 1932, and it is the only road that crosses the park, going over the Continental Divide at Logan Pass. A fleet of 1930s red tour buses "jammers", rebuilt in 2001 to run on propane or gas, offer tours on the road. The road, a National Historic Landmark and a Historic Civil Engineering Landmark, spans 53 miles (85 km) across the width of the park.
The road is one of the most difficult roads in North America to snowplow in the spring. Up to 80 feet (24 m) of snow can lie on top of Logan Pass, and more just east of the pass where the deepest snowfield has long been referred to as Big Drift. The road takes about ten weeks to plow, even with equipment that can move 4000 tons of snow in an hour.
The road is generally open from early June to mid October, with its latest ever opening on July 13, 2011
As always, thanks for stopping by and looking. I appreciate your comments and visits.
Leif's quite photogenic, as I've mentioned, and someone on Cindy's stream compared him to a younger Johnny Depp, which I can see.
Well some may say so.......
When I started this project I had no personal photos from my 1960's visits so I could only research it as best I could from publications I'd acquired along with a plethora of web-based photos
Amongst that material I also had a few layout plans of the site from different eras and sources - some better than others
Whilst it's the early diesel aspect there that I recall most, Steam traction was still in evidence - just!
However, along with the still standing Roundhouses we'd ferret around in, it's the 'Coaling Stage' (out of our limit of exploration and I suspect was either gone or being demolished at the time) that I find to be a fascinating construction
Unfortunately, in all my research, there's only a few views of the one there which are very informative but various crucial features were not visible
Thankfully a new publication came out a couple of months ago and reveals some of those omissions, namely the transfer of coal to the waiting locos
The inset shows the reference photo with the trolley loaded with coal being emptied into the waiting loco. Assuming these were hand loaded by shovel, then pushed and tipped with their wheels held by those curved 'stoppers' on each of the platforms
On it I've placed the unpainted trolley I made from sheet plasticard with wheels made from slices of plastic tube glued onto made up axles. The handle is 'presumed' and made of brass rod
In the main photo it's been painted and filled with real (crushed) coal
I still don't know whether once inside the stage if the trucks were tipped sideways using hydraulics to spill their loads before the crews got to work with shovels OR it was ALL done by hand??
I've also been 'superdetailing' the main structure with (representative) tubing for external lights along with downpipes which serve some sort of piping from each of the coaling platform rooves - maybe a wash hose to clear coal dust as I cannot see any guttering on them
I've also raised the whole building about 5mm along with the entry rails on the gradient plus the raised arched truck structure as I wasn't happy with the height including opening up the arches under the latter as one photo revealed that they were open!
Added too were the Water Tank access ladder and cladded water pipe feed (top left)
I've still to scratch-build three more of those access staircases :(
Compare to:
www.flickr.com/photos/29288836@N00/52817615386/in/datepos...
20230418_180406
Compared to the the long, heavy pulp trains of the Otways which it was built to haul, the passenger trains on Puffing Billy are easy work for the sole surviving Victorian Railways garratt G42. Assigned to the longer and heavier luncheon trains, G42 is photographed climbing into Emerald with one such luncheon train in tow.
A picture of rice with back-lighting morning sun. It doesn’t say much isn’t it? Well here's a couple of interesting facts about rice for your amusement:
1. More than 90 percent of the world's rice is grown and consumed in Asia, where people typically eat rice two or three times a daily. Rice is the staple diet of half the world's population.
2. Rice farming has been traced back to around 5,000BC. Meanwhile wheel was not invented until 4000BC. Those ancient farmer worked hard. Really hard.
3. It takes 5,000 liters of water to produce 1 kg of irrigated rice. That is enough to supply an average adult 7 years worth of drinking water, or in my case, 25 years. I don’t drink enough water.
4. The average Asian consumer eats 150 kg of rice annually compared to the average European who eats 5 kg. In Burma, a person consumes about 230 kg of rice a year. Now Burmese cat, do they eat rice?
5. In several Asian languages the words for 'food' and 'rice' are identical. The Korean term for meals is "bap 밥" which means rice. It is equivalent to the Japanese word "meshi めし" which also means rice. Both of which are also equivalent to the Chinese word "fan 飯" which also means rice.
6. In Indonesia we have a lot of name for rice based on how you processed it. Unmilled rice called ‘padi’. Milled rice called ‘beras’. Cooked/steamed rice called ‘nasi’. You cook and pack it tightly into a rolled-up banana leaf? ‘lontong’. Using coconut leaves instead? ‘ketupat’. Cook it for too long and it becomes ‘bubur’. Hence the saying “Nasi sudah jadi bubur”, basically means “Its too late”.
7. Japanese people believe it is important to not waste rice, so it you leave rice in your bowl it is considered to be rude. How they can pick the bowl clean using chopstick continue to amaze me.
Compare with my "Blue construction site fence" photo.
(cellphone camera shot, Dec. 2013)
C. J.R. Devaney
Venus was nothing compared to the girl. Her clothes trailed alluringly across the floor; her satin evening gown with the magnificent broach, her long shiny gloves, gorgeous Sable Fur all were laid out in seductive, overlying curls as she had slinked through the room, leaving behind her the telling path of unmistakably rich prey. The beginning of which held a feast for the tracking predator who knew how to read the signs.
*************************************************
The study below was derived from facts uncovered while doing research for the following Doctoral dissertation:
Light to the shadows of their mind:
Criminal tactics and strategies
Criminology Department .
Chatwick University
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If there was ever one thing I savored the most about my chosen profession I would have to say it was the lavish receptions, balls and other posh settings where the frills of the filthy rich could be both admired and enjoyed. There was just something about the voluptuous ladies who haunted these venues, dressed up to the silky nines and sporting flashy ornaments, which I found so very mesmerizing.
Take the young lady in whose spell I was currently basking. She was wearing a slinky long satin number that appeared to have been poured along her enticing figure. A diamond brooch sparkled from just below her perky breasts. Her opulent gemstone jewels, surrounded by sparkling diamonds, shone like cat eyes when caught by the lights. I studied her the way one would appraise a painting by an old master, closely examining everything I could that pertained to her. If this work of art went by a name, I would title it: Eileen, a study in opulence.
I could also see that I wasn’t the only one who was paying Eileen attention. The man she was seeing appeared, as usual to be caught up in the ladies enchantment this evening. I had seen the couple together several times, but tonight he seemed to be especially attentive to her. There was definitely electricity in the air between them. Which was good, for tonight would be the night to pounce, paying the witchy young lady and her jewels a long anticipated nocturnal visit in the wee hours of the morning.
I had heard about Eileen through a paid source close by in Sutton. She had been an orphan at a young age and brought up properly by a war-widowed grandmother. The Grandmother had been wealthy, and when she passed on she had left 22 year old Eileen with a small fortune. Along with the Grandmothers wealth, Eileen inherited from the old lady three major facets, a spoiled naivety, a gullible ego, and a massive jewelry collection. Which all together presented a very enticing combination for someone like me.
Eileen wore her grandmother’s jewels with reckless abandonment, so I was told, and that is what made her stand out to those who sell information to people like me. Like a hungry predator, I shadowed Eileen for an entire month as she bounced from night club to private club, from extravagant balls, to ultra-fancy ritzy dances. I got to see her and her collection of jewels in close proximity, and it was love at every sighting. I even stole a dance away from her escort, when he was away making one of his frequent business calls. She was wearing a puffy gown of rich taffeta, with silvery diamonds that flashed as they cascaded down from her ears throat. It was a slow dance and I was able to tune out her constant babbling and concentrate on appraising her jewels. After the dance I kissed her gloved hand with its heavily ringed fingers, and bid au revoir, before quickly getting lost in the crowd before her lover returned.
The whole time I closely watched over Eileen and her latest Beau, a charming man named Claude who spoke with a heavy French accent. I quickly learned everything I could about the pair’s background, their relationship, their friends, their habits. Several times I had left them alone while when they were safely partying out on the town, and did a trail run by the ladies residence. This was a secluded small stone mini-mansion, located deep in the woods on the far outskirts of town that had been her Grandmothers weekend retreat. I had plenty of time to study, so that by the time the evening arrived when I would make my move, I had it all plotted out, taking into consideration every angle. I was ready, and actually had been so for over a week prior to this evening.
I followed the happy couple home that evening, and waited while they got down to business. I was calm, my nerves knew no anxiety. I spirited away back to my car and changed into my proper “ business” attire ( black clothes, gloves and mask). I had witnessed Eileen and Claude putting on the same show for several late evenings, and I knew just when to strike. And, then, strike I did.
Like a shadow I moved, becoming part of the background. Reaching the house I stole in through a basement window which I had loosened the week before. I cautiously moved inside, using my torch only sparingly. I made my way up through the basement to the first level, pausing only for a few precious seconds to observe the pricy landscapes that hung from the walls, but I did not touch, for that was not my game.
I crept up the stairs to the sitting room of the master bedroom, Eileen’s grandmother’s old room. It stood as a shrine to the old lady, right down to her old white cat lying on the primly made bed. The cat watched me untrustingly before hissing and running off into some dark corner. I went over and pulled back a self-portrait of the old lady, behind which was a small wall safe. It’s amazing how easy these things are to spot. The tumblers satisfactorily whirled and clicked home, allowing me to open silently and peek into its small chamber. A number of jewel cases of various shapes and makes were exposed to my torch. Quickly I emptied them, watching as jewel after jewel slithered brightly into my satchel. I replaced each case, and after the last was disposed of its contents, I closed it back up and made my way to the fair Eileen’s boudoir.
Venus was nothing compared to the viixen Eileen. Her clothes laid an alluring path across the sitting room floor; her satin evening gown with the magnificent broach, her long shiny gloves, gorgeous Sable Fur, all were laying in seductive, overlapping curves like a carefully marked out trail leading one to a treasure of promised ecstasy. For Eileen and her paramour, that ecstasy was to be found where the trail ended, in her boudoir. For me, the ecstasy lay where the trail had begun, the spot where she had removed her jewels before giving into the passion of the moment. The expensive pile gleamed invitingly, flickering like so many colorful cat eyes by my torches light. They were perched on her dresser, carelessly discarded for things so valuable, they snaked around the marble bird of prey that, alas, would soon prove a futile guardian.
I looked at the door to her bedroom, it was open a sliver and I could hear the raw animal sounds of their lovemaking. Obviously they were occupied for a while. Unhurriedly I carefully lifted each piece up, savoring their shimmering fire before stowing them safely away to join their mates. I then went to the gown on the floor and lifting it ran it through my fingers, it whispered and felt silky, even through my thin gloves. Reaching the brooch I carefully undid the clasp, pulling the jewel away. Dropping the gown, I then turned and silently retraced my steps. Gaining the cellar I watched out the window for any signs of activity. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t half expecting company.
As I waited I wondered who would be more upset over the loss of the grandmother’s jewelry, Eileen, or her “lover” Claude. For you see, “Claude” was a kindred spirit to my profession. He was known to me as Carl , a slick operator born in Brooklyn. He had also had correctly read the signs that Eileen possessed that made her a temptingly easy mark. For you see, Carl was the inside man for a gang of jet setting thieves. Cultured and handsome, it was his part to lure the chosen rich lady into his web and wine and dine her into complete compliancy in preparation of his actions. Once he had obtained her trust, he would select the perfect evening and “Claude” and his heavily jeweled paramour would be set upon by the thieves shortly after returning home on the designated evening. The Lady would be bound and gagged then be forced to watch as her home was stripped of its valuable treasures. The gang would leave with their haul, melting into obscurity with their treasure. Carl would disappear to his home overseas in New York until the next operation was formed. How Carl had found out about Eileen, I had no doubts. The type of blokes who peddled information on vulnerably wealthy prey have no problems with selling the same tidbits to multiple clients. It does have a tendency to make life a bit more interesting on occasion.
I had kept tabs on Eileen’s crooked paramour and soon learned that Carl’s actual girlfriend, who had been posing as his sister Maxine, had booked passage for two to the United States on a steamer leaving the very next weekend. I realized that my window of opportunity had been forced open. If he was preparing to flee the country on Saturday, as was his way immediately after a job, than I surmised that Eileen would be met with misadventure on Friday night before. This also happened to be the evening of a major charity Ball she had bought tickets for her and “Claude” to attend. So tonight, Saturday one week before the steamer was to leave, I made my own move hoping to beat Carl and his gang of scoundrels to the punch, at least where the grandmothers jewelry collection was concerned. I didn’t know if they would still attempt their plan once they realized the jewels had been lifted from under their noses, although, for Eileen’s sake, I hoped they would abandon them. Both ways, my tracks were covered, and before the sunrise I would be miles away.
I gave myself 15 precious minutes, before leaving via the window and making my escape. Nothing had stirred, in or around the house. So I had interpreted the signs correctly, the raid was not on for tonight. I quickly moved out and made for the tree line, melting into the night, soon losing myself (and Eileen’s Jewels) to the darkness.
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Courtesy of Chatwick University Archives
David Corenswet is James Gunn's Superman in a James Gunn film based on a story by James Gunn. New 12 inch figure for this summer's biggest James Gunn hit...or flop...too early to tell.
This poor figure has a tiny head compared to the body. $10 play line figure.
Nothing as exciting in this direction compared to the previous "SS" image, but I do love how the light hits at this end of the harbour.
A7Riii - T70-180/2.8
Ribble (LA) 1661
NRN 561 Leyland PDR1/1 (592722) / Metro-Cammell L39/33F 6/60
compare with high-bridge 1688 (NRN 588);
time expired by 12/76
Bloomfield Road Coach Park, Blackpool 25/07/72
Compare it to the first rendition from a half-year ago: www.flickr.com/photos/origami-artist-galen/5650389322/in/...
You can see that I modified the back and neck to mostly close the seams; I also widened the neck and totally changed the body region. It's more refined, but it also looks more like a tyrannosaur now...
Designed by Shuki Kato
Folded from: one 15" square of Origamido
Size: 12" from nose to tail
Quite surprised when I saw Elandra had a bigger head mold. Specially considering that Merina's head is quite big for her body, so I though it would work properly in a bigger body. The jaw part is the same though.
Compared to the collapsible Summicron, the Summitar has a neutral-to-cold colour rendering and is distinctly sharper. The Summicron, which was designed for use with the less saturated colour emulsions of its day and age, nowadays renders colours strongly - too strongly if you're not careful. That is not likely to happen with a Summitar.
Leica IIIf Black dial (LOOHN), 1951
Leica Summitar collapsible (SOORE), 1950
Kodak Portra 800 professional grade colour negative film
Developed and scanned by www.meinfilmlab.de
BNSF SD40-2s 1725 and 1882 work pulldowns in Galesburg, IL. The 1725 is a standard nose and very faded, while 1882 is a snoot and looking nice.
i give up. i dont understand why flickr keeps changing the color of my photos. i look at the origional, the photo uploaded to facebook and compare it to on flickr and flickr is the ONLY one that doesn't look annything like the other two. :(
Heeeelp!
Compare this shot, if you like, with the Winter Wren shot I got a few days ago, when the light was good. Obviously better detail in that one. I used a tripod for both shots.
Compared to the other shots of this series "Spain 1955 in Kodachrome", I dismissed this photo that I judged of lower quality.
But in front of the enthusiasm of my Spanish friends for these historical testimonies, I decided to post it on Flickr.
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Comparado con los otros tiros de esta serie "España 1955 en Kodachrome", descarté esta foto que juzgué de calidad inferior.
Pero frente al entusiasmo de mis amigos españoles por estos testimonios históricos, decidí publicarlo en Flickr.
Quite a neat little colour combo here. This was considered a small car, but look at it compared to the Mini! I had previously seen this on Trade Me before this but never expected to see it in the metal.
Compared to some of the other shots this is 'straight out of the camera', I think it lets the the natural beauty of Ivory Flame shine through but in some ways it feels like there's not much of 'me' in the shot. I suppose what I'm trying to say is it's a pose made by the model against a plain background with relatively flat light and I've not manipulated it at all in post-production. It's questions like these that are one of the reasons I've been making a conscious effort to explore a more diverse range of photographic subjects.
Click here to see more from the photo shoot : www.flickr.com/photos/darrellg/sets/72157625250850037
El Valle del Rio Cochamo el secreto mejor guardado de la Patagonia Chilena. Considerado el "Yosemite del hemisferio sur" pero como en el 1800s: pristino, salvaje, rodeado de bosques centenarios y multiples montañas con paredes verticales de granito de mas de 1.000 mts.
Sin caminos, solo senderos penetrando, el Valle del Rio Cochamó se convirtió en el paraíso de los entusiastas del trekking, la meca de los escaladores, un favorito de los amantes de la naturaleza. Sin tarifas de entrada, el sendero del valle es el inicio de un viaje a un área de enorme belleza natural lleno de actividades: trekking, escalada en roca, caving, tobogánes naturales de agua, natación, caminatas, tubing o simplemente relax en la playa.
La principal atraccion del valle es la escalada en roca desnuda en mas de una decena de montañas de granito que hay en el area, solo para expertos pero tambien hay varios trekking de dificultad media o alta, las permanentes lluvias deterioran los senderos agregando dificultad extra al cruce de numerosos rios, trampas de barro y pantanos. "La Junta" es el punto de llegada y principal centro de actividades, hay dos camping muy limpios y con servicios basicos, desde alli se puede dar un corto paseo a la Cascada del Rio La Junta, un tobogan de agua natural o bien tomar alguno de los tres senderos hasta los miradores en la base de los macizos de granito (Arcoiris, Trinidad y Anfiteatro). Otra opcion que adquiere creciente popularidad es el "Cochamo Round Trail" un mega circuito de 6 a 10 días que parte desde Cochamó pasando por "La Junta", "El Arco" una increible formacion de roca sobre una cascada, el Lago Vidal Gormaz, Lago Tagua Tagua, Puelo y regreso a Cochamo, recorriendo algunos de los paisajes mas sobrecogedores del norte de la Patagonia, sin dudas el nivel de los atractivos lo hacen compárable solo con el "Gran Circuito" de Torres del Paine.
Cabe señalar que para todas estas opciones existe la posibilidad de contratar caballos, cargadores y guias o bien paquetes grupales completos en modalidad turismo aventura por varios dias.
Para mayor informacion pueden visitar www.cochamo.com
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Cochamo River Valley's best kept secret of Chilean Patagonia. Considered the "Yosemite of the southern hemisphere" but as in the 1800s: pristine, wild, surrounded by mature woodland and mountains with multiple vertical granite walls of over 1,000 meters.
With no roads, only trails penetrating, Cochamó River Valley became a paradise for trekking enthusiasts, the mecca for climbers, a favorite with nature lovers. No entry fees, the path of the valley is the start of a trip to an area of great natural beauty full of activities: trekking, rock climbing, caving, water natural slides, swimming, hiking, tubing or just relaxing on the beach .
The main attraction of the valley is the naked rock climbing in over a dozen granite mountains that are in the area, only for experts but also several medium difficulty trekking or high, the constant rains the trails deteriorate adding extra difficulty crossing many rivers, swamps and mud traps. "La Junta" is the main arrival point and activity center, two camping very clean with basic services, from there you can take a short walk to the "La Junta" river waterfall, a natural water slide or take any of the three trails to the lookout at the base of the granite massifs (Rainbow, Trinidad and Amphitheatre). Another increasingly popular option is the "Cochamo Round Trail" a mega circuit 6-10 days from Cochamó part through "La Junta", "El Arco" an amazing rock formation under a waterfall, Lake Vidal Gormaz, Lake Tagua Tagua, and return to Cochamo by Puelo, touring some of the most breathtaking landscapes of northern Patagonia, undoubtedly the attraction level only comparing with Torres del Paine Big Circuit.
Note that for all these options is possible to hire horses, porters and guides or group packages complete in adventure travel mode for several days.
For more information, visit www.cochamo.com
Please compare to Sundial at sunset:
flickr.com/photos/nupi235/2602329301/in/set-7215760305014...
The Sundial
So you would say a sundial’s fit to mock,
and put your faith instead in watch or clock.
In me no spring will break , nor oil grow thick,
no pivot thin to quell the busy tick.
The face of liquid crystal soon grows pale,
and battery’s reserves are bound to fail.
My motion works a shadow, which must run
as silently and even as the sun.
I’ll stand without correction year on year,
save only for equation known for here.
Though while there’s cloud I’ll rest, and all night sleep,
when bright sun lights me, then true time I’ll keep.
--Andrew James
View this on black background:
These two images were taken almost exactly 15 years apart - February 2009 and April 2024. 2 different MOCs of the same locomotive - Pere Marquette 1225. The first MOC in this photo was already 3 years old and had been rebuilt twice. I considered it my best train model. The second MOC... is a little different. She also desperately needs stickers.
On the left the former Bristol and North Somerset line to Bristol and on the right the old Somerset and Dorset line from Bath to Bournemouth. The two tracks run side by side for part of their routes and today this section of the tracks provide a cycle path and a footpath.
The We're Here group members are visiting the
Side-by-Side Compare group today.
This is 40mm, and this is 50mm.
Interesting that having the lights on or off at dusk makes such a huge difference to the mood.