View allAll Photos Tagged exploremore
Xakanaxa Lagoon | Moremi
I was looking especially for him on this boat-trip and put all my trust in the guide, who was fantastic and found one, that unfortunately flew away.
This one is special, as I found it and this little beauty was so nice to hop around from spot to spot, so we could follow him for quite a while through the channel.
Landscape photography often rewards patience more than planning. This image was created during a period of rapidly changing weather when dense cloud cover obscured much of the surrounding landscape. For a brief moment, the clouds parted, allowing shafts of sunlight to reach the mountainside and lake below.
The composition uses the winding path as a visual guide, inviting the viewer into the scene while emphasizing the scale of the landscape beyond. The contrast between the darkened foreground, the illuminated slopes, and the dramatic cloud formations creates a sense of tension and balance that reflects the constantly changing nature of mountain environments.
This work explores the relationship between weather, light, and place—capturing a fleeting moment that existed for only a few seconds before disappearing back into shadow.
#LandscapePhotography #NaturePhotography #MountainPhotography #MoodyLandscape #StormClouds #DramaticLight #Sunbeams #GodRays #ChasingLight #AtmosphericPhotography #LandscapeLovers #EarthFocus #DiscoverEarth #WildernessCulture #OutdoorPhotography #ExploreMore #AdventurePhotography #MountainViews #TrailPhotography #NaturePerfection #EpicLandscape #LightAndShadow #WildWeather #Cloudscape #NatureLovers #RoamThePlanet #StayAndWander #VisualOfLife #EarthPix #FineArtPhotography
Not much in life is certain. Death and taxes are the oft quoted things that will surely befall us all according to Benjamin Franklin. Although I wonder whether he anticipated the arrival of the global giants that would one day place their registered offices on a conveniently obscure atoll somewhere near the Mid-Atlantic Ridge and render the second half of his assertion rather less assured as well. I'm pretty sure I know one or two individuals whom I should have reported to HM Revenue and Customs years ago for forgetting to fill in their tax returns as completely as they might have done, but then again I like my car to still have all four wheels on it when I leave for work each day.
I think we each have a few things in life that are pretty certain. For example you can guarantee that every time I pour myself a gin and tonic at home, I will get the respective proportions completely wrong, and unlike the ones you may have sampled in the pub, it will taste of gin - overwhelmingly in fact. Possibly linked to this I am certain that despite my best intentions I will not get up two hours before dawn tomorrow to capture a misty sunrise image. There's only one each of 5, 6 and 7 o clock in every day in my life and unless I start experimenting with products that are best left avoided for my own safety, that's not going to change. I'm also pretty sure that I will not finish reading "One Hundred Years of Solitude" before this time next year, despite having started it several months ago. It's one of those books we're apparently "supposed" to read. I just haven't quite got into the rhythm of it yet. Let me know if I should continue with it won't you? I normally read about six books during the annual fortnight on the beach, and one more during the remaining fifty weeks. I suspect that's not an uncommon phenomenon.
There's one other thing I feel quite certain of, and it's that for as long as I'm able, I'll keep returning to this place. I'm not enormously well travelled in truth. I've only been out of Europe once in my life and that was just for one week, and only just out of Europe too for that matter. There are places in the world that I'd quite like to visit, but it doesn't burn inside me like it did when I was a young man. I've been to Iceland and I'd like to go again, and I'm really keen on going to the island groups of the Hebrides, the Faroes and Lofoten in the next few years, all with the camera bag of course, But those ambitions aside, I'm very content with my lot. I live ten miles from here, my favourite place in the world. I love watching how the sea, the land and the light change here throughout the seasons. This is the shot I was looking for when I came here three weeks earlier in a storm and got something completely different, albeit in exhilarating conditions. This is my happy place where I come to stand and gaze and dream and plan. The place where the seals watch me watching them. The place where I'm still finding new compositions each time I visit. This weekend I finished up here on Saturday and Sunday, watching happily as the colours changed in the sky.
There are some places that we like to photograph once or twice and then move on because we think our business is done there. For me at least, Godrevy isn't one of them. Happy almost midweek everybody!
Looking back... she was sitting on the river bench, but I didn't found out, what caught her attention.
One of the best sunrise experience I have encountered. Pacific Northwest West is the best location to bond with nature..
A double rainbow arches over lush green and golden rice fields in Laos, creating a surreal scene of tranquility. This moment showcases the harmony between nature, light, and land. The soft mist in the air adds a beautiful glow to the landscape. I felt very fortunate to be able to withness and photograph it.
Some beautiful light to start the day at Machu Picchu! Machu Picchu really lived up to its beauty and was an amazing place to explore!
🌿✨ Atemberaubende Aussicht über den Walensee und die Churfirsten – Natur pur, wie sie schöner nicht sein könnte. Ein Moment voller Ruhe und Weite. ️🌄
Welches ist euer Lieblingsplatz zum Abschalten? 🌍💬
The horizon exhales its last breath of color,
a shoreline caught between memory and forgetting.
Tourists and locals pause together at the edge of light,
witnesses to the day’s surrender.
What remains is not the day itself,
but the echo of its passing.
Meet the photographer : youtu.be/-iMIpSY85K4?si=49HeBYGjZCfI1pcX
#Indonesia #VisitIndonesia #WonderfulIndonesia #IndonesiaTravel #Bali #BaliLife #GiliAir #GiliIslands #NusaPenida #IslandLife #ParadiseIsland #TropicalVibes #BeachVibes #OceanView #NatureLovers #NaturePhotography #TravelPhotography #ExploreMore #AdventureTravel #TravelEscape #PhotoOfTheDay #TravelGram #ExploreTheWorld #TravelAsia #Globetrotter
One of my colleagues stole my printed copy of this when I originally processed it two years ago and put it on her office wall. I could never decide whether I was flattered by this, mainly because I didn't like the texture of it. The RAW file itself is quite harsh and full of structure, clarity and jarring colours, so much so that I was never comfortable with the image. So I've just had another go at it, partly to see whether I've learned anything, and partly because I wanted to make peace with it. I've softened it, cooled it, de-saturated it and calmed down the contrasts. Maybe we can live with one another now.
You might recognise where this was taken. It was our last day in the Highlands and we'd just doubled back from a truly wonderful hour at Lochan na Achlaise towards Buachaille Etive Mor because I remembered I'd wanted to risk my neck standing in the middle of the A82 shooting towards the northern beauties you see before you. This road is a double edged sword, because while it is a undeniably a feast for the eyes of jaw dropping proportions, its beauty does cause the odd driver here and there to get distracted by the view and suddenly veer away from its path without warning. If you're a passenger you're passing along a road you'll never forget. If you're a driver, you're also passing along a road you'll never forget, partly due to the frustration that you know you're missing all the fun, but also because you have to watch for the craters in the road that pass for pot holes around here. If you're in a very small car there's a chance you might completely disappear for several seconds at a time. When I was here a few months earlier, several vehicles were distributed randomly across the carriage way in various attitudes, one of them upside down in the accompanying ditch, with long queues of completely stationary traffic in either direction. We'd come to hike up Buachaille Etive Mor (on the left of the image) and had the pleasure of walking two miles along the car strewn carriageway towards the start of the climb, while explaining to irritated motorists that we didn't know what was going on either.
To look at this picture you'd think it was a quiet lonely highway to nowhere, with little passing traffic. But as the main route to Fort William and the North West of Scotland beyond it's busy, noisy and frightening, especially if you're hiking and have just arrived here after crossing the lonely and beautiful Rannoch Moor when any form of road traffic is a shock to the senses. It belies the truth of us having to repeatedly look in both directions, rush out into the centre, compose, see a car coming in the distance to spoil the moment and returning in disappointment to the kerb and wait for the next opportunity. It took a while before we could safely grab a shot of an empty road while at the same time being sure that a 38 tonne lorry wasn't about arrive from behind and to turn us into a lonely buzzard's buffet.
And with that I wish you all a happy and safe weekend, especially those of you who aren't able to get into wide open green spaces during these uncertain times. Keep well everybody.
As the day draws to a close in Santa Cruz das Flores, the sky is bathed in gold and pink, and the horizon is coloured with the softness of the last rays of light. An ephemeral spectacle that reminds us that beauty is in the details and in the moments we know how to appreciate. Who else has lost themselves in these magical colours?
It seems strange that almost three months have passed since my brother Dave decided to offer himself as a competing focal point on the dunes for this composition at Talacre in North Wales. In one sense so much has happened. The world as we know it has changed to something that almost all of us have never seen before. Who knows how long for, or whether it will be the same again afterwards? In another sense it feels as if almost nothing has been going on. Lockdown is a strange experience with each day much like the next, and even though I continue to work from home, the dividing line between the Monday to Friday routine and the weekends seems almost paper thin. And above all that, everyone keeps telling me how they feel the days are passing so incredibly quickly. Somehow it's already early May, but it feels like I took this photograph yesterday. In fact it was at the beginning of February, when Storm Ciara was the thing that worried us most and Covid-19 was something that most of us knew was coming to these shores, but I wonder how many of us realised quite how destructive it would be and quite what an effect it would have on our daily lives. I didn't.
We'd planned to head home from North Wales via a detour to Porthcawl on the south coast until one of us thought it might be an idea to look at the tide times and realised that there would be little point. And so we headed east towards Merseyside and the M6, stopping at Talacre, a place that none of us had been to before. Well it is a long way from Cornwall. We were only here for an hour, maybe less, and soon lost ourselves in our own little worlds of joy behind our viewfinders. Although Ciara had done her worst it was still very windy, but that never prevents me from trying a long exposure to catch the movement in the dunes and the sea. Dave is often the last to return towards the car, and as I stood on the highest dunes thinking I'd finished and just enjoying the view he called out across the space between us to tell me I was going to include him in my photo. Quite often I'm calling out to him over a similar distance to tell him he's going to be in my photo, so this came as a bit of a surprise. But I'm glad he invited himself into the scene. Check out the photo he took. It's an absolute beauty!
Keep well Flickr friends.
Usually I like to take my time to compose a scene. You see I've listened carefully to the advice of my favourite landscape photographer on YouTube (Nigel Danson - he's a man who understands how to do this stuff) and absorb a location before I open the camera bag. I even do this in places I know well - places such as the space between Cape Cornwall and Botallack Mine here at the Edge of Eternity where the Atlantic Ocean stretches west for 2200 odd miles before arriving in Newfoundland. It takes a while to leave the journey to a location behind and settle in the surroundings. Often I will sit and watch for an hour or more, hoping to sight that pod of dolphins that so rarely appears, straining my eyes over the horizon for the distant Scilly Isles, and simply gazing at the sea below me. It's a place that brings the senses alive, whatever the time and whatever the weather. Eventually I'll fix on an idea and set the camera on the tripod, take a test shot and then wait for the light.
And so it was on this Saturday afternoon at the end of June. The lockdown restrictions in the UK had eased a little, and we were able to get out and about to the places we love so much. The summer holiday to Andalusia had been postponed because neither of us really fancied the idea of wearing a mask everywhere in 40 degree heat, but with places like this in our own back yard it didn't seem to matter. In fact despite what's going on around all of us this year, it's been a particularly enjoyable summer. It's only really dawned on me this year how lucky I am to be able to leave my home and stand here, at the edge of the British Isles in under an hour.
We sat at the edge of the granite outcrop high above the sea - they're known as castles here, which used to confuse me but I believe it's in reference to the hard igneous rock that makes the backbone of our county. We were facing north, directly away from the scene in the picture. You might wonder why on earth we'd be looking in any direction other than this, but the view towards the sunlit old engine houses of Botallack Mine, perched perilously over the sea is something in itself. The deed was done; I'd settled upon a composition and now it was a matter of timing and light. I sat and waited. It's a place where you can lose your sense of time and drift away on a tide of daydreams, but my reverie was interrupted by the voice of Ali, who was looking in the opposite direction. "Behind you!" she called across the stiff breeze, pointing enthusiastically towards the Cape Cornwall side of our vista. From her obvious excitement I was expecting to look round and see a pantomime villain advancing towards me.
And I turned to see this. A leaden sky with yellow sunlight filtering eastwards from over the sea. Of course light like this never lasts more than a minute or two and an almighty flurry of activity ensued very quickly as I hastened to a new position, the opening of the camera bag flapping about furiously in the wind. These are tricky places for the unwary and you have to take care unless you want a terminal bath before being dashed upon the rocks, and framing the shot wasn't as unhurried as I'd have liked it to have been. But in less than three minutes the ominous black and grey had been replaced by fluffy white on blue and it was as if this moment had never happened. The weather in this country, especially along its wild western edges is so delightfully capricious. It makes planning a family barbecue an ever risky affair, but for us photographers it's an absolute dream.
It's Saturday - the weather is forecast is looking decidedly fickle. I think I know what I'm going to do today.