Markers
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I wanted you to see the size of this place. When I found out it was purchased by and designed by the developers out of Austin, Texas, I wasn't surprised. The place is huge and they tried to touch on everything. It's positioned so people can sit out on the farthest deck and watch the sunset. Of course, small bars are out positioned in different areas of the deck. And sure, live bands..;) Sooooo Austin. Don't get me wrong, it's a great setup. It doesn't fit the rest of the city or coastal area, but that's the way it goes. I wonder how the locals feel about it?
... somehow these all got aligned there on my desk at work ... and had my camera around for a ... snap :)
The light on the desk from the computer monitor.
We've reached the marker cairn, and a short rest. Ahead lies the steepest part of the climb which takes us up on to the summit plateau before we eventually reach An Socach. It will take us about 30 minutes so I'll see you up there!
After a few test runs and weeks of chiropractic care on my back, it's finally time to start the climbing season with a climb up An Socach. An Socach (pronounced An S-Oh-Ack) is my 17th Munro and stands at 944 meters (3097 feet), and although not the longest of climbs parts of it are very steep.
Marker Wadden is a cluster of five new, uninhabited natural islands, which were artificially created in the Netherlands from 2016 to 2021 || Marker Wadden is een cluster van vijf nieuwe, onbewoonde natuureilanden, die van 2016 tot 2021 kunstmatig zijn aangelegd in Nederland
The Marker Wadden are artificial islands in the Markerlake in the Netherlands. The construction started in 2016, and the first islands were opened for the public in 2021.
It is (as far as I know) the only place in the Netherlands where people are guests. Nature is in charge here!
Already soon after the islands were developed birds found their way, and now it really is a birds paradise. One (of five) island is open for the public, but only a limited amount of people can go there because there is only a limited boat connection.
During spring and summer the islands are stuffed with birds who raise their young in every possible corner. As visitor you can walk around and part of the path are wooden walkways (as you can see) from where you have an excellent view on wildlife.
If you want to know more about this remarkable project see
www.natuurmonumenten.nl/projecten/marker-wadden/english-v...
Marker Wadden is a cluster of five new, uninhabited natural islands, which were artificially created in the Netherlands from 2016 to 2021 || Marker Wadden is een cluster van vijf nieuwe, onbewoonde natuureilanden, die van 2016 tot 2021 kunstmatig zijn aangelegd in Nederland
Since I'd done the 2 summits so quickly I'm heading back to the shores of Loch Vrotachan for some lunch. On the way back down from The Cairnwell I pass these marker cairns, with the first summit of the day, Carn Aosda clearly visible in the distance.
This trip sees me bagging 2 more Munro's. Carn Aosda, my 22nd Munro, stands at 917 meters (3008 feet), while The Cairnwell, my 23rd Munro, stands at 933 meters (3061 feet). They do both stand at the heart of the Glenshee Ski Development, so may be not a pretty or remote as some other Munro's.
When I captured this scene back in July, it was just the onset of yet another summer thunderstorm. One of countless similar images collected over the course of a seemingly endless stream of summer evenings. But they weren't endless. And looking back, this moment, like so many others, has forever escaped my grasp. I didn't post this photo in the moment because I figured there would be a better time, a better storm, better light, or maybe a better frame of mind for me to capture the scene. None of those conditions came to pass. And as it turns out, all of those better things existed only at the precise time I spent gazing across the meadow at this lone tree. I passed by this meadow the other day. The tree is still there. But nothing about the scene looks or feels the same as it did on that stormy July evening back when summer felt endless.
The name of my village, Markyate, refers to boundaries ('mark' and 'gate'). When you mark something out, you are drawing boundaries around it. Markers are signs pointing to these boundaries, many of them imaginary. There are plenty of these in the village.
This marker at the end of a wall is a kind of polyglott, its language will be understood around the world in various ways. What does it tell you?
I have been painting my rocks and so I put a few orange markers together.
Smile on Saturday - Orange
Statue commemorating the practise of 'Swan Upping', carried out annually in July when the mute swans on the Thames, up as far as Oxfordshire, are ringed and divided between The Crown, The Vintners' Company and The Dyers' Company. Before leg rings were common they were marked by nicks in their bills.
The foxgloves have now finished. This photo was overlooked in my file so these are now slightly out of season.
At the entrance to the Barwon River in Victoria, Australia, sunrises are always worth getting up for
The name of my village, Markyate, refers to boundaries ('mark' and 'gate'). When you mark something out, you are drawing boundaries around it. Markers are signs pointing to these boundaries, many of them imaginary. There are plenty of these in the village.
This one, the rubbish bin, constitutes one of the strongest markers referring to the elapsing time - at least, when you are old as I am. The bins have to be put out weekly, and this is the rhythm of time you are part of, and this time is elapsing.
Bridge over the river Olne. At the Rickmansworth Aquadrome (near London). Mitakon Speedmaster manual lens at F 0.95. Edited in macOS High Sierra.
A CSX work train dumps an additional layer of rocks on the mainline from Moncrief to Dinsmore, before backing up to the yard.
Conrail N9 transfer caboose 18321 brings up the markers on the Reading & Columbia local, train WHRE-10, at Vinemont, Pennsylvania.