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Aysgarth Falls are a triple flight of waterfalls, surrounded by woodland and farmland, carved out by the River Ure over an almost one-mile (two-kilometre) stretch on its descent to mid-Wensleydale in the Yorkshire Dales of England, near the village Aysgarth. The falls are quite spectacular after heavy rainfall as thousands of gallons of water cascade over the series of broad limestone steps, which are divided into three stages: Upper Force, Middle Force and Lower Force.
The falls are an SSSI.
Aysgarth Falls have attracted visitors for more than 200 years, including John Ruskin, J. M. W. Turner and William Wordsworth, all of whom enthused about the falls' outstanding beauty. The falls were created when meltwater from the Ice Age that had been held back by a terminal moraine spilled down over the area and eroded the boulder clay and the bedrock limestone underneath. The falls drop 200 feet (61 m) over a half-mile section of the river.
The Falls are situated in the Yorkshire Dales National Park. There is a visitors' centre with an exhibition, information, items for sale, a café, toilets and a pay-and-display car park.
There are public footpaths through the wooded valley, offering views of the river and falls. Wild flowers appear in the spring and summer, for example snowdrops in January and February, primroses in April and bluebells in May, and birds, squirrels and deer may also be seen. Occasionally salmon can be seen leaping up the falls in autumn. Nearby is St Andrew's Church, which reputedly has the largest churchyard in England. The church has a medieval painted wooden screen rescued from the destroyed Jervaulx Abbey.
The name originates from Old Norse and means the open space in the oak trees.
All three falls were featured in the films Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves and Emily Brontë's Wuthering Heights, and they were featured on the television programme Seven Natural Wonders as one of the wonders of the North.
Exploring British Columbia.
I came across this abandoned log cabin about 20 kilometres from the nearest community on a local forest service road. Judging by the surroundings, there may not have been road access in the area when it was built. Perhaps built by a trapper who walked many kilometres on a narrow trail to get to it. It's in a nice setting as there is a small stream and lake nearby and appears someone was there recently.
Instagram: www.instagram.com/robertgraser/
Das London Eye (engl. „Auge von London“), auch bekannt unter der Bezeichnung Millennium Wheel, ist mit einer Höhe von 135 Metern das derzeit höchste Riesenrad Europas. Es steht im Zentrum von London am Südufer der Themse, nahe der Westminster Bridge und ist inzwischen eines der Wahrzeichen der britischen Hauptstadt.
Baubeginn des Riesenrades war 1998. Am 10. Oktober 1999 wurde die Konstruktion aufgerichtet. Die Öffnung für Besucher verzögerte sich auf Grund von technischen Problemen bis zum 9. März 2000. Die Erfinder hatten ihre Idee bei einem Wettbewerb für die Millenniums-Feiern eingereicht, wo sie jedoch abgelehnt wurde. Das London Eye sollte ursprünglich nur eine begrenzte Zeit von etwa fünf Jahren betrieben werden. Angesichts des großen Erfolges wurde dies verworfen.
My take on this classic window into Bath shot... Taken early morning, loving the spring tones
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#igersbath #visitbritain #igerssomerset #visitbritain #lovegreatbritain #spring #reflection #blossom
#cityofbath #bathuk #bath #bathscape #lovebath #visitbath #landscape_captures #ukpotd #photooftheday #explore_britain #uk_shooters #snapssouthwest #bathsomerset #boat #canal #canalboat #barge #kennetandavoncanal #reflection #countrylook #widcombe
Brockton Point Lightstation
Stanley Park
Vancouver, B.C.
Canada
A Stanley Park showpiece.
A number of ship collisions in the waters around the point led to the construction of a lighthouse and signaling station at Brockton Point. For a time, Brockton Point had a lighthouse keeper, who served for 25 years starting in 1855 and is credited for having saved 16 people from drowning. The present day lighthouse tower with an automatic light was built in 1914. It was designed by Thomas Hayton Mawson, who also constructed the lifeboat house located below the point and other Stanley Park landmarks.
Info. Wikipedia
Vancouver Photowalk ( group outing )
I invite you to view my 99+ (Fave) album:
www.flickr.com/photos/120552517@N03/albums/72157656422454792
Thank-you so much for all your views, comments and faves
So very appreciated !!
~Christie (happiest) by the River
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To watch how I captured this shot watch my video diary of the trip:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=8cFYdqEuLxI&t
This shot shows Maughold covered in a shroud of eerie Winter sea mist which rolled in over Maughold church yard and its surrounding fields, providing a very spooky yet serene atmosphere. I always love shooting fog and mist as these conditions just add so much extra va-va-voom to a landscape scene. Sadly, conditions like this don’t occur all that regularly and when they do I often tend to be in work unable to capture them.
As soon as I clocked the coastal mist which fortunately in this case coincided with a day off, my first instinct was to head to Maughold, as I have a bit of an obsession with that corner of the Island at the moment. Quite often with coastal mist if you gain a bit of altitude you’ll get above it and that’s exactly what I did by climbing up Maughold Head. Gaining altitude allows you to shoot amazing scenes of the fog surreally swirling round landscape features almost creating islands in a sea of cloud. I’m really pleased with the final image as it’s a shot I’ve wanted to get for a few years now.
Early autumn down at the Murray River. Aspens have a stronghold all through the Murray River valley, so this area does get colorful in autumn. The high altitude cirrus clouds are typical during the fall season in the mountains.
Happy Fence Friday x
Thanks so much everyone-my highest Explore ever #15 Sept 2nd XX
now fallen like a stone to 138 lol x dropped then re entered Highest position: 161 on Thursday, June 7, 2012
I think that each of us makes our own line in the sand. There are those for whom anything goes, while others are content to bend things very slightly. While many want their image to tell the world what they saw, others want to share how they felt. "Photograph what you feel, not what you see," I read somewhere recently. Of course there are also people who refuse to use the editing suite, or filters. Personally I'm in favour of whatever it is that makes you happy. We each get to decide where our boundaries are. I was reminded just yesterday that Mads Peter Iversen, a landscape photographer I much admire and respect isn't averse to adding a completely alien sky to an image - he has an aurora that he quite happily adds over whatever sub-arctic landscape he's set his viewfinder on. His prerogative of course, and in his honesty he makes no apology on the subject and knows it will divide opinions; it's not something I've ever been tempted to do. Perhaps you have - nobody's judging who's right and who's wrong. It's all about choice after all.
I think I probably fall into the category of wanting to share how a view I took a picture of (or some pictures of) made me feel. So while for me personally, a sky that wasn't there is going to remain in the "Add Unicorns Menu," I'm no stranger to the practice of combining a few images taken within a short space of time to pull together the elements I wanted. Living in an area where the sea is the obvious and ever changing subject, I'm quite relaxed about taking the greatest hits from a series of incoming waves and blending them into a single frame. Ironically Mads taught me this through his Photoshop editing course, the first few chapters of which very quickly reminded me how little I knew, having always resorted to its easier to use cousin in Lightroom. I still do, but Photoshop grabs a lot more of the action than in the days when I knew what the spot removal tool was for, but the rest of the screen was just a magical hinterland of unexplained buttons. In fact most of the rest of the screen remains a strange and mysterious place to me, but gradually I'm making use of the bits I've begun to make sense of.
In this example, I'd recently happened across a sea stack at Gwithian I'd never noticed before, largely because I'm usually somewhere on that headland across the water waiting for the sky to change. But on this occasion I'd decided I needed brighter light to catch the flight of the gulls without resorting to an ISO setting of about two hundred gazillion, even though the courses they plotted were slowed by a strong cold northerly that was making the day a challenge for us all. I was glad I had a warm van with a gas stove, a kettle and a diesel heater waiting for me just a couple of hundred yards away. Two days earlier I'd stood here on the dunes above a receding tide and taken another composite, before deciding that what I really wanted was an incoming surge wrapped around the base of the stack. A tempestuous sky would have been more to my taste, so I'll probably end up going again when the conditions combine in my favour - preferably with a bit of side light to illuminate the gulls against a big black cloud. I'd better have my waterproofs handy that day.
What I'd also decided I needed was the sea to be moving at the right speed, and in my world there are only three of them; "forever," "just enough to blur the motion" and "really very fast." "Forever," is my go to setting when the sea can't be bothered to do very much, while "really very fast" only comes into play when it's ferocious - something I never seem to get quite right - I usually just come home with six hundred nondescript grainy white splodges on the memory card and end up deleting the lot. "Just enough to blur" entails the happy deployment of the six stop and a shutter speed usually somewhere between half a second and two seconds, and that's where I wanted to be for the sea itself. The gulls arrived within quick succession of one another - very good of them to be so obliging as that cloud was shifting towards us all at quite a pace and the blend might otherwise have been a lot more tricky to deliver. Have you spotted the fourth gull yet? Neat eh? I had to wait for it to be in that exact spot for it to have any chance of joining the party. The overall result isn't the sharpest picture I've ever delivered - I'm going to blame the wind and the fact that my tripod needs to acquire some spikes. Bad workman, tools, you know the rest of the proverb. Still, the picture does carry me back to that windy afternoon on the clifftop in the dunes, watching the gulls forever flying eastward - exactly what it's supposed to do.
So there's my confession, although you'd have worked it out for yourself anyway. I do composites from time to time, but only when I haven't travelled too far from reality. After all, those gulls had probably arranged themselves in far more interesting attitudes together across this scene at different times throughout the day. Obviously they'd have got a lot further in 1.3 seconds than the lie I've tried to sell here suggests, even against that last icy blast of winter, but the textures in the water wouldn't have been quite so much fun. And that line in the sand I drew for myself - it's hidden there somewhere under all that water, probably moving all the time.
And whether you're a purist or a fantasist, or somewhere in between like most of us, I hope you've got a plentiful supply of chocolate to get you through the weekend. Have a good one.