Phares jaunes - Yellow headlights
View allAll Photos Tagged headlamp
Fire in the sky, spaceship ready to take off, shooting light beam into the vast blackness, this is a starry night fairytale, in Banff national park
I'm standing at the edge of the forest, along the path I walked to this place. I often apply here, especially when I need space and silence around me.
I look to the left, the sun has set and the moon comes into view beautifully. A blue moment, a few skiers. I take a deep breath of cold air. It's good to be here. My heart and mind calm down.
Later that night, when it's completely dark, I too ski this same spot with the light of my headlamp.
👱♀️🎧Teardrops ( Massive Attact ).
Headlamp of the Antelope & Western No.1. This Porter 0-4-0T was built in 1889 for the Sacramento Brick Company in Sacramento, California.
[polski opis niżej]
ET22-247 with D-train no. 56102 from Gdynia Główna to Wrocław Główny, leaves Gdańsk. August 10, 2005.
Photo by Jarek / Chester
ET22-247 z pociągiem pospiesznym nr 56102 z Gdyni Głównej do Wrocławia Głównego opuszcza Gdańsk. 10 sierpnia 2005 r.
Fot. Jarek / Chester
Daimler for King George V by the independent Daimler Company of Coventry, England. The enclosure for the chauffeur is a later addition.
This fall I have been living at the Mountain Research Station to facilitate teaching remotely (better wifi and office). Since my cabin doesn't have running water, I need to trek to the lodge in the morning darkness to take a shower. I noticed during the first September snowstorm how odd the wind driven snow looked in the light of my headlamp- strings of pearls. The mystery was finally solved in mid-November by Garys_thisandthat. The LED headlamp flashes on and off at 0.02 sec cycles, so a snow flake is repeatedly illuminated as it falls, providing this wonderful patterning caught here with my iPhone camera, which does a better job of staying dry in the snow than my Sony.
This is a photo of me in the Joshua Tree Wilderness Area. It was one of these epic desert sky days when we stayed too late taking photos, only to realize we would need to hike home in the dark! Hand-held with a 0,6 second exposure, so a lot of blur, but I still like it. I did a lot of editing, hoping to capture the feeling of our experience. And yes, we did (eventually) find our car and made it back safely! Photo credit: S. Wessel. HSS!!
"(It will) be like a beacon on the road to better things."
Joseph Conrad: "Heart of Darkness"
Sunrise slowly creeping into the depths of Grand Canyon National Park. Taken from Yavapai Point lookout.
The lights in the extreme lower right corner are the headlamps of hikers headed down to the Colorado River via the Tonto Trail.
A headlamp is a lamp attached to the front of a vehicle to light the road ahead. While it is common for the term headlight to be used interchangeably in informal discussion, headlamp is the term for the device itself, while headlight properly refers to the beam of light produced and distributed by the device.
This was actually my first morning in Alberta during my winter trip this past January. Joined by a couple friends, we headed out to this spot in complete darkness, other than our headlamps (which annoyingly really only illuminated my breath in the cold winter air). After a quick snowshoe and a really slow (and frustrating) post-holing process we arrived at this incredible location, where we waited. And waited. And waited.
Eventually, the sun rose behind a thick bank of clouds, illuminating the landscape. Unfortunately for us, we could barely even see castle mountain, and it seemed that we’d get no great light. Eventually the tummy growls were loud enough to motivate us to head back to the car.
Within 60 seconds of starting our walk back, I noticed the colour temperature changing on the snow to become warmer. I stopped in my tracks and looked at Castle Mountain - the clouds had broken, and warm light was just starting to make it through to the landscape.
Andrew - “Oh man. Look behind you.”
Scott - “Oh no. Should we go for it?”
Eric - “I’M GOIN’ FOR IT!!!”
Everyone - *runs*
Once again, a scramble to set up and get shooting. The light lasted less than 5 minutes before going back to a completely overcast mess. Thankfully, for that 5 minute period we were all right where we needed to be. Sometimes it pays to hike slowly!
I left the base of the mountain at 11 PM, headlamp on, stepping into the darkness. The trail was steep, relentless—a true test of endurance. For hours, I climbed, my breath heavy, legs burning, mind focused only on the next step. The higher I went, the colder the air bit, but I pushed forward.
Then, just before 6:34 AM, I reached the summit of Pico Paraná—the highest peak in southern Brazil (1,877 meters / 6,158 feet). The sky was still dim, but the first light was creeping in. I stood there, exhausted but triumphant, as the sun began to rise over the endless ridges below.
For a mountaineer, sunrise isn’t just light—it’s rebirth. It’s the moment the struggle fades, and all that’s left is awe. The world wakes up in colors, but here, in black and white, the raw beauty remains: sharp shadows, soft mist, and the quiet pride of standing where few ever will.
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PS. Number ONE on Explore on May 11th., 2025.