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The Segla Mountain... probably the most famous hike of Senja, but absolutely worth it. The view is just amazing and when you go to the cleavage the Segla really emphasizes why it got that name.
What a lucky day... just minutes after we left from a pride of lions that hunted down an elephant that night, I saw this young leopard drinking at the Khwai River | Botswana
I think we're all pretty much agreed that 2020 isn't going to be a year that too many people look back upon fondly. No doubt some of us have experienced the odd landmark moment that will make the year more memorable for them personally, but for most people, it's been a stinker. For some it's been a lot worse than that.
In our own little world of insignificant first world problems, our plans to spend a fortnight in South Western Spain had been long since shelved when we decided that a few days in the remote Somerset Levels would make a pleasing change of scene. During the first half of last week, the weather in the UK had been unusually hot, a sure sign that thunderstorms were on the horizon. Earlier in the day we'd had lunch at a very exclusive looking nearby hotel before hiking up onto the cooler climes of the Quantock Hills to gaze down over the Bristol Channel beyond the twin islets of Steep Holm and Flat Holm towards the haze of a not too distant South Wales.
After agreeing that Steep Holm would offer better natural protection (the clue is in the name) in the event of an apocalypse where we were among the few survivors we strolled happily back down the slope to the car and headed for the coast at nearby Kilve. We've reached the age where we have started to take camping chairs along with us on our outings, and so we sat by the low cliffs above the beach and watched the sun change colour from yellow to orange and then red as it sunk into the sea near the coast of Exmoor. Needless to say I took photos. We agreed it had been a good day; in fact the most enjoyable day of the year we decided after a little more thought on the subject. Not that it's had much competition of course, but there you go.
I'm never one for leaving immediately after sunset - it's often the best time to take photos. Pink cumulus had formed above us in a manner that both threatened and excited at the same time, and before long, the occasional flash of lightning flickered menacingly behind them. Surely rain was on the way? We watched and waited, spellbound by the unfolding drama as the light gradually faded and the lightning began to spread westwards along the Welsh coast on the opposite side of the estuary. It was getting late, but still we stayed, riveted by the show and expecting to get soaked by the urgent rainfall that never arrived. At some point it occurred to my slow witted brain that putting the camera on the tripod and pointing it across the Severn Estuary might be an idea. I'd always had an idea as to how it might be possible to photograph lightning, but the opportunity had never arisen; at least not until now it hadn't. With a series of 25 to 30 second exposures I hoped that what was mostly sheet lightning might produce the odd fork, which it eventually did - close to the resort town of Barry, which for those of you who are British will know is the home of a much loved sitcom of recent years - hence the title. I was very happy. An already excellent day, completed by watching a thunderstorm from a safe, dry location in the comfort of a cheap folding chair. What's not to love about that?
This is the traditional Remodelado tram that rattle and screech through the streets of Lisbon. Travelling on one of these iconic trams is a must when visiting this beautiful city
Frogmore is full of charm, history, and the occasional ghostly residents. If you spot a face in the window, just consider it part of the local welcome
A few of you have been kind enough to tell me you were looking forward to the next instalment of my Comet Neowise adventures at Wheal Coates. I hope the sequel doesn't disappoint you. To everyone else, apologies for dragging you through already overgrown ground a second time. If you're wondering what I'm on about, my previous post entitled "Nocturnal Shenanigans at Wheal Coates and Beyond" will hopefully provide the intelligence you're looking for. Or very possibly not.
The early hours of Monday morning had brought an exciting and diverse collection of experiences, not all of them happy ones and I was looking forward to a slightly less incident packed return to the scene 24 hours later. Two consecutive clear nights were coinciding with two days of leave from work and the arrival of a comet in the night skies and it seemed almost careless to overlook the opportunity. Cornwall's leaden grey skies aren't usually this helpful. Remember that eclipse of the sun in 1999 where the world stood on its doorstep watching sky turn black in the middle of the day? I don't. Our day that summer involved staring in frustration at a completely overcast sky from our back garden. Enough said.
I'd arranged to meet with Hudson, the only man I know who has his own Wikipedia entry, earned from a lifetime of service to music. Ok it's a Wikipedia entry and not an MBE, but what he can't do with an electric violin wedged under his chin and a bow in his hand isn't worth doing. From Hudson I learned something new. Ever heard of the 500 rule? I hadn't either. Generally speaking I'm not keen on rules. I should stress I'm not inviting you to visit your local post office with a stocking on your head brandishing a lead pipe, but take the rule of thirds for example. Or the one which says you shouldn't put the horizon on the halfway line. I might use them sometimes, but they seem formulaic to me. I like breaking rules, but the 500 rule is undeniably a good one to follow if you're shooting the stars. Divide 500 by your focal length and that's the maximum number of seconds exposure time to avoid moving stars in your image. Who knew? Well Hudson did apparently. Amazingly, 8 seconds seems to be enough. I've just realised I was at 40mm. I could have had 4 more.
I'd brought a torch with me and announced loudly to the other 5 or 6 photographers who we knew were lurking nearby in the darkness that I was going to put it inside the engine house. I took the non-existent response as agreement and returned to my tripod to take the shot. Once we were both happy that we'd got a photograph or two we could work with, Hudson made ready to leave and I returned to collect the torch from the illuminated engine house, demanding royalties from the apparently happy collection of photographers who'd profited from the unexpected light show.
Arriving home sometime after midnight I stood beneath the neighbour's pine tree to say hello to the juvenile Tawny Owl I'd met the night before, only to be greeted by three of them sitting on a branch side by side, staring back at me. It's a memory I'm going to keep forever. I'm still smiling about it now.
I've just realised that the engine house is more or less on the third and so is the horizon. I'm feeling formulaic now......
Σαντορίνη κοκτέιλ μπαρ Φηρά
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After leaving the high mountain slopes of Popova Šapka, we slowly drive toward one of the most beautiful lakes in the Balkans: Lake Ohrid. The winding road leads us through a landscape that gradually opens up, until suddenly the deep blue of the lake appears in the distance. High above the water we arrive at the wonderful Paradise Nest Guesthouse, perched on the mountainside overlooking the entire lake. The small houses are beautifully built of wood and blend perfectly into the natural surroundings. From the terrace the view is truly breathtaking: the vast lake stretches toward the horizon, framed by soft mountain ranges that slowly fade into the blue distance. The family who runs the guesthouse is incredibly warm and hospitable, making you feel welcome immediately. The narrow road leading up the hillside winds along the slope and is a bit rough in places, but by driving slowly it is still manageable without a 4×4. Along the way we stop several times to enjoy the stunning panorama over Ohrid and the lake. The town lies along the shore, with its many red roofs spreading out beneath the old fortress on the hill. Lake Ohrid is one of the oldest and deepest lakes in Europe and is estimated to be more than one million years old. Because of its remarkable age, the lake is home to hundreds of unique plant and animal species that exist nowhere else in the world. Together with the historic town, the region forms a UNESCO World Heritage site. The city of Ohrid is known for its many ancient churches, narrow streets, and the impressive Fortress of Tsar Samuel, which towers high above the lake. From the hills, the town almost seems to float between the mountains and the water — a place where history, nature and light come together. Standing here above the lake, looking out over Ohrid and the endless blue water, you quickly understand why this place has managed to enchant travelers for centuries.
After leaving the mountain slopes of Popova Šapka, we slowly descend toward the deep blue waters of Lake Ohrid. High above the lake we stay at the beautiful Paradise Nest Guesthouse, where wooden cabins overlook one of the oldest lakes in Europe. From the hillside the view over Ohrid and its red-roofed houses beneath the old fortress is simply breathtaking. Location: Ohrid, Lake Ohrid, North Macedonia.
Na het verlaten van de hoge berghellingen van Popova Šapka rijden we langzaam richting één van de mooiste meren van de Balkan: het Meer van Ohrid. De slingerende weg voert ons door een landschap dat steeds opener wordt, tot plots het diepe blauw van het meer in de verte verschijnt. Hoog boven het water komen we aan bij het geweldige Paradise Nest Guesthouse, dat tegen de berghelling ligt met uitzicht over het hele meer. De kleine huisjes zijn prachtig van hout gebouwd en passen perfect in de natuurlijke omgeving. Vanaf het terras is het uitzicht werkelijk adembenemend: het enorme meer strekt zich uit tot aan de horizon, omlijst door zachte bergketens die langzaam in het blauw verdwijnen. De familie die het guesthouse runt is bijzonder gastvrij en behulpzaam, waardoor je je meteen welkom voelt. De smalle weg naar boven slingert langs de helling en is hier en daar wat ruw, maar met rustig rijden nog net te doen zonder 4x4. Onderweg stoppen we meerdere keren om te genieten van het prachtige panorama over Ohrid en het meer. Het stadje ligt langs de oever, met zijn vele rode daken die zich uitstrekken onder de oude vesting op de heuvel. Het Meer van Ohrid behoort tot de oudste en diepste meren van Europa en is naar schatting meer dan één miljoen jaar oud. Door deze enorme leeftijd leven er honderden unieke planten- en diersoorten die nergens anders ter wereld voorkomen. Samen met de historische stad vormt het gebied een UNESCO Werelderfgoed. De stad Ohrid staat bekend om haar vele oude kerken, smalle straatjes en de indrukwekkende vesting van Tsaar Samuel, die hoog boven het meer uittorent. Vanaf de heuvels lijkt het stadje bijna te zweven tussen de bergen en het water — een plek waar geschiedenis, natuur en licht samenkomen. Wanneer je hier boven het meer staat en uitkijkt over Ohrid en het eindeloze blauwe water, begrijp je meteen waarom deze plek al eeuwenlang reizigers weet te betoveren.
Bwindi Impenetrable Forest | Uganda
Detailshot from my visit at the Gorillas of Bwindi. A memory I will never forget.
In the blue immensity of the Atlantic Ocean, where the land bids farewell to the continent and embraces the sea, hides an unspoilt paradise - Praia da Alagoa, on the island of Flores, in the Azores, where time slows down and nature reveals itself in all its purity: the vibrant green of the vegetation, the volcanic black of the rocks and the deep blue of the sea intertwine in a unique harmony. A refuge where the wind whispers ancient stories and the sea sings songs of eternity.
It's been over a week since my last post. Sorry about that. A combination of work pressures, wonderful weekend weather and late evenings out with the camera have combined to reduce my output in these and other pages. Normal service, whatever that is, will be resumed eventually.
Meanwhile, Saturday evening took us up the coast to Bedruthan Steps, a place where giant rocks inhabit the beach and stare out to sea with a watchful gaze. The beach itself is inaccessible at present. Little did we know that a hefty chunk of cliff had slid down onto the beach during the winter. I suspect the National Trust, who own the place have probably had other issues to worry about in recent months, much as we all have, so it seems unlikely that the beach will be open for some time now. It's a shame as I had another idea for a low tide visit - but that will have to wait.
It's also a reminder of how dangerous the coast is around here, with almost vertical and unstable cliffs, promising a permanent end if you happen to be standing in the wrong place at an inopportune moment.
One distinct plus point is that although a small and steady stream of visitors pass by here, taking selfies in front of the scene and pausing for a moment to enjoy the view, not many of them linger because there's little to do when you can't get onto the beach. We ate our pasta and watched as the groups of onlookers arrived and went, before eventually earning the place to ourselves as the golden hour set in. Patience usually pays off in the end.
It's a splendid location as long as you're careful along those crumbling cliff edges. So good in fact that the camera stayed on the tripod until just before 10:30, long after the sun had sunk beneath the horizon, leaving an orange glow behind it.