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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.
Leiden is a lively university city in South Holland, famous for its picturesque canals, rich history, and the oldest university in the Netherlands. A dense network of 17th-century canals, bridges, hidden courtyards, and traditional Dutch houses, it is the city with the most canals in the Netherlands after Amsterdam.
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?
Penny Lane giving me the “I didn’t do anything… but I absolutely DID something” face. Somewhere in this yard, a sock, a stick, or your dignity has gone missing.
Nighttime photo of Captain Nalle, part of Thomas Dambo’s Giant Trolls, glowing under a stunning starry sky in Nordhavn, Copenhagen. This magical long-exposure shot captures the brilliance of the stars as their light etches timeless beauty into the scene
My first sunset in the Dolomites 🌄
After a full day winding through fiery autumn forests and mirror-like lakes, I finally arrived at the iconic Passo Giau. And then this happened.
Standing here as the sky slowly shifted from gold to pink to deep blue, surrounded by these monumental peaks, I felt completely overwhelmed, in the best way possible. A mix of gratitude, awe, and disbelief that a place like this truly exists.
Silence, crisp air, and a landscape so vast it makes you feel small… yet incredibly alive.
One of those moments you don’t just see, you feel, and carry with you forever.
#Dolomites #PassoGiau #FirstTime #SunsetMagic #MountainVibes #AutumnInTheAlps #AlpineDream #NatureLovers #Wanderlust #TravelMoments #LandscapePhotography #ChasingLight #GoldenHour #EarthFocus #ExploreMore #MountainsAreCalling
Nestled in the heart of Islamabad, the breathtaking Margalla Hills offer a serene escape into nature. With lush green trails, panoramic views, and diverse wildlife, these mountains are a haven for hikers, photographers, and adventure lovers. Whether you're exploring the famous Trail 3 or enjoying the sunrise at Daman-e-Koh, Margalla Hills never fail to mesmerize. 🌿️
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
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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Found that one shot, that makes a trip to Botswana complete... you just need to come back with a nice Steenbok portrait and this long eyelashes und way too big ears. :)
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.
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A tranquil riverside scene unfolds beneath a clear blue sky, where shallow water flows gently over smooth, sunlit stones. Lush green trees frame the river on both sides, their reflections shimmering on the calm surface. Dappled light filters through the foliage, creating a peaceful contrast of shadow and warmth. The landscape feels quiet and undisturbed, capturing a perfect moment of natural serenity along a woodland riverbank.
#riverwalk #naturephotography #landscapephotography #riverside #forestviews #calmwaters #reflectiongram #outdooradventures #naturelovers #scenicviews #wanderlust #earthfocus #discoverearth #peacefulplaces #riverlife #woodland #summerdays #waterreflection #getoutside #exploremore #beautifuldestinations #serenity #rocksandwater #greenescape #hikingviews #countryside #wildandfree #travelgram #sunnyvibes #landscape_lovers
Having trouble finding the motivation to go and take a photograph this weekend. Here's last weekend. . #xt1 #fujifilm #wildernessculture #exploremore #getoutside #lonelyplanet #artofvisuals #mountainlife #exploretocreate
: I was half-expecting a very small, very polite gentleman to poke his head out and offer me tea and seed cake. There’s something about a moss-covered hollow that makes you realize the world is much more magical than we give it credit for. No sign of Bilbo yet, but I’m staying for second breakfast just in case. ☕️🍄
High above the coast of Northern Norway, the evening sun breaks through a veil of clouds — a final golden salute before sinking into the sea.
Captured near Horn, just north of Brønnøysund, the view stretches all the way to the horizon where the silhouette of Torghatten gently pierces the light.
A landscape shaped by time, softened by water, and illuminated by moments like this — fleeting, yet eternal.
Neoclassical architecture
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Some of you are very kind, reading the lengthy diversions I accompany my images with, much of it totally irrelevant to the shot itself. I'm not really sure I can drag another story out of Saturday evening to be honest. But you know I'm ready to give it a go. As I walked at an almost Olympian pace to the spot I'd planned to spend the last hours of daylight on, I watched the light spreading over St Ives on the other side of the bay, hanging dreamily over the distant town and illuminating it in a haze of yellow light. I'd tried a rarely used shortcut to get here, which proved a mistake and cost me the minutes that made me know I was going to miss the moment. Why on earth I have these occasional aberrations of the mental satnav I really can't explain - without exception they always fail. As I set up my tripod the sun appeared from behind the clouds which until that moment had brought a lovely diffused sky over to the west and I cursed myself for missing the moment.
I moved my tripod to a spot further along the cliff, exchanging a few words with a chap who'd come to stand on the clifftop and watch the sky change. "Looking promising!" he suggested as he watched me straighten my tripod, possibly looking a bit nonplussed as this grumpy old man complained he'd missed the light he'd been watching as he strode the mile or so along the path from the car park.
Of course I was wrong to grumble. I should have known that a healthy mixture of rain and sun would bring an evening sky like this. I zoomed in on the lighthouse alone and ignored the setting sun, which would have only resulted in a whole heap of lens flare on the left hand side of the image. After all I'm not sure that a collection of red and green blotches is what photographers mean when they refer to the concept of balance in an image. I looked at the 3 inch screen before me and smiled.
And so for a few minutes the sun lit the side of Godrevy lighthouse as fiercely as I've ever seen it. As my unknowing guru Mr Nigel Danson so often likes to say, "It doesn't get any better than this."
Leiden è una vivace città universitaria dell’Olanda Meridionale, celebre per i suoi canali pittoreschi, la ricca storia e la più antica università dei Paesi Bassi. Un fitto reticolo di canali del XVII secolo, ponti, cortili nascosti e case tradizionali olandesi. Dopo Amsterdam, è la città con più canali dei Paesi Bassi
Leiden is a lively university city in South Holland, famous for its picturesque canals, rich history, and the oldest university in the Netherlands. A dense network of 17th-century canals, bridges, hidden courtyards, and traditional Dutch houses, it is the city with the most canals in the Netherlands after Amsterdam.
Beautiful rock formation with the perfect set of colorful streaks on the sky at sunset
Arch Rock, Joshua Tree National Park, California
Dave had already disappeared, seemingly swallowed by the forest and its secrets. Maybe he just wanted to escape the endless drizzle, but something told us otherwise. In the woods, Dave can see things that escape me entirely. We knew it would be at least an hour until we saw him again. Dave was entering Dave World, a place where everything makes sense and all is calm. He’d be just fine.
By his own admission, Lee wasn’t feeling the love. He couldn’t see the forest sprites emerging from the mist. “Everything is just a tangled mess!” he complained as he watched Carl and I creeping around the mossy boulders at the edges of this magical dark green world. Lee likes minimal, and this was anything but. Maybe he’d find a lone tree for his Leica somewhere outside the woodland. But with the filthy elements in such a persistent mood, his state of the art camera stayed in the bag.
On the walk from the car park, I mostly chatted with Carl. Carl and I had been “friends” on another platform for a couple of years by now, and although he only lives just over the border in west Devon, this was the first time we’d met. We had much to talk about, including his autumn workshop visit to Iceland, which had been interesting to say the least. We shared future plans, anecdotes on locations and even more importantly, he told us that the Fox Tor Cafe in Princetown had excellent reviews. That was lunch sorted then.
While Carl had been here a handful of times, this was just my second visit. The first time had been six years earlier, when I’d placed reasonably well in the over fifties category in a nearby 10k trail race that took us from the high ground at Castle Drogo down into the depths of Fingle Woods alongside the River Teign, another location I’ve long wanted to photograph but still not made it to. On that day my partner in crime was Emma, an old friend of many years whose race plan was always the complete opposite of mine. Whereas she’d charge off from the starting line like a bull at a gate, I’d struggle to find an early rhythm and be wheezing away like a broken accordion. Towards the end I’d be settled in, breathing evenly and feeling strong, by which time she’d be hyperventilating noisily and demanding more Haribo. We stuck together throughout the course, each taking turns to swear and curse at the other for dragging them out on a soaking March morning - all because the finishers’ medals looked so delightfully blingy. “Give ‘em a shiny thing for getting over the finish line and they’ll come in numbers,” said the organisers to themselves. The language from my companion in that last steep uphill mile was especially fruity that day.
After more than six miles of purgatory in running shoes, Emma had gone to spend the afternoon with her in-laws who lived nearby. I’d brought my camera gear with intentions to ignore the fast road and roll back across the moor. The wood had been one of the two places I planned to visit. “Now let’s see - trail running shoes, check. Compression socks, check. Waterproof winter trousers, check. Welly boots, double check.” It seemed I had everything I needed - except for the conditions. That day I carefully focus stacked a strangely symmetrical frame among the carnage, but in retrospect I’m not sure it was worth the bother. To make this place ping, you really need a bit of mist. Or a lot more skill in Photoshop than I possessed.
Today, six years later things were pinging quite nicely. I mean you can always have more fog of course, but the meteorological lottery was rewarding us well for our efforts. And we’d started very early, which you probably know isn’t my thing at all. In fact, when I later told one of you that I’d been up before 6am in preparation for this outing, he demanded to know who’d hacked into my Whatsapp and threatened to call the authorities. But yes, we’d arrived here at eight, met a few moments later by Carl, and slooshed our way through the mud to the woods, enveloped in a grungy grey curtain, just as we’d hoped for.
It might take a while to start to see things, but when you do, it’s really quite rewarding. Nick, who joined us a little later, has been here countless times, yet he told us he still often finds new shapes emerging from the mist. And now, as I stole away from the others and headed a few yards north, I found the lollipop stick, poking through a mossy “V” shaped frame. No faffing around with focus stacks this time, just a straightforward thumbprint on the main attraction and let everything else recede into a blur. There’s so much waiting here to be discovered.
Dave had that quiet smugness about him which always means he’s found a masterpiece. Carl looked happy enough too. Lee was chewing a Snickers bar. I think the Leica had come out briefly, but he was really saving it for the lone hawthorns we’d find elsewhere later. For three of us at least, the first full day had started well, but it was time to move on and find the next location.
Ein geschwungener Pfad führt durch die saftig grünen Alpenhänge in Richtung einer imposanten Bergkulisse. Die Wolken tanzen über dem Horizont, während das Licht der Sommersonne das satte Grün zum Leuchten bringt. Ein Moment der Ruhe und Weite – genau dort, wo man alles hinter sich lässt und nur noch das Hier und Jetzt zählt.
As the sun sets over Paris, the Eiffel Tower is bathed in a warm golden glow, casting long shadows across the city. The tower's steel curves and intricate details are silhouetted against a colorful sky of oranges, pinks, and purples. The tranquil Seine River flows peacefully below, reflecting the tower's brilliance in the water. The iconic tower's intricate iron lattice stands tall and proud, drawing crowds from all over the world. The moment is magical, and captures the essence of Paris - the city of love, romance, and unparalleled beauty.
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