View allAll Photos Tagged netart
Original iPhone image and processing by me
Processed with the CameraBag app on the iPhone and then tweaked in PS
Texture by Tanya (scrapbuddy2): www.flickr.com/photos/scrapbuddy2/4623200258/in/faves-ama...
Il mio veliero ha sbagliato più volte la rotta, letture errate delle mappe hanno rischiato di farlo finire sugli scogli.
Quando finalmente si intravedeva la terra ferma, è arrivata quella che chiamo la tempesta perfetta.
Il veliero della mia esistenza sbandava continuamente, da capitano coraggioso ho tenuto con forza la rotta.
Evidentemente non è bastato, bisognava inseguire e ritrovare la bonaccia.
Sono sicuro che il veliero GR solcherà ancora i mari, ancora ci saranno porti dove approdare, progetti da realizzare.
Sono sicuro che la mia ciurma, i miei amici non mi abbandoneranno, anzi mi saranno accanto per costruire la nuova rotta. INSIEME.
GR
h|u|m|b|o|t installation in net_condition show ZKM Karlsruhe Germany 1999-2000 - Uploaded with a demo version of FlickrExport 2.
There's so much in this photo that it's hard to name it.
On the right is Netarts Bay, where we used to crab when I was younger. Netarts Spit is the land separating the bay from the ocean. The spit is part of Cape Lookout State Park, as is the place I'm standing for this photo, Anderson's Viewpoint. Anderson was apparently a surveyor as there's a monument here but I don't know anything about him.
The rocks on the far left are Three Arch Rocks National Wildlife Refuge, a refuge mostly for several species of birds but also for sea lions. It lays just across from the town of Oceanside. Just past Oceanside the last outcrop you can see is Cape Meares State park.
"Tu vuoi andare nel mondo e ci vai a mani vuote, con la promessa di una libertà che gli uomini, nella loro semplicità e nel loro disordine innato, non possono neppure concepire, della quale hanno paura e terrore, perché nulla è mai stato più intollerabile della libertà per l'uomo e per la società umana!". "Io ti dico che non c'è per l'uomo preoccupazione più tormentosa di quella di trovare qualcuno al quale restituire, al più presto possibile, quel dono della libertà che il disgraziato ha avuto al momento di nascere". "Tu hai scelto tutto quello che c'è di più insolito, di più problematico, hai scelto tutto quello che era superiore alle sorte degli uomini, e perciò hai agito come se tu non li amassi affatto. E chi è che ha agito così? Colui che era venuto a dare per loro la sua vita! Invece di impadronirti della libertà umana, l'hai moltiplicata, e hai oppresso per sempre col peso dei suoi tormenti il regno spirituale dell'uomo. Se tu lo avessi stimato meno, gli avresti anche chiesto di meno, e questa sarebbe stata una cosa più vicina all'amore...
O inquisidor "você quer ir no mundo e podemos ir de mãos vazias, com a promessa de liberdade que homens, na sua simplicidade e sua desordem inerente, não pode sequer conceber que eles medo e o terror, porque nada tem sido cada vez mais intolerável para a liberdade do homem e da sociedade humana." "Eu digo até você, que há mais preocupação para a humanidade do que atormenta localizar alguém para voltar, logo que possível, o dom da liberdade que o desgraçado tinha no momento do nascimento". "Você selecionou tudo lá é mais incomum, que mais problemático, você pegou tudo o que era superior ao destino dos homens e, por conseguinte, ter agido como se eles não tinham. E aqueles que agiram assim? Ele que veio para dar a sua vida para eles! Em vez de adicionar da liberdade humana, multiplicaram-se e ter para sempre oprimido, com o peso de seus tormentos, o Reino espiritual do homem. Se você teve, você iria ter menos estimado também pediu para menos, e isso teria sido uma coisa mais próxima de amor...
Kamil I, Lavender mist, Fairy Tale / Syncolors - a dictionary of colour;
| kamil1.review/post/157437366134/kamil-i-lavender-mist-fai...
Another sign of the plentiful rain we have had this year. No crouching down to take this shot...I was actually shooting upwards to get this shot.
Netarts Bay, OR
As far as sand formation, rocks - or not - and driftwood, one never knows what to expect on this beach. Every low tide reveals something different.
Questa è la storia di un venditore di sogni...Egli offriva mondi al di là dell'immaginazione. Ma quanto doveva apprendere ancora di se stesso! E' un sogno allucinante...
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Amazing, other-worldly sand shapes are formed naturally by the changing ocean tides and strong winds, found only for about half a mile along the Netarts Bay, Oregon beach, about a 2 hour drive from Portland. The rare formations are about 6 x 6 inches in size, this one being the most unusual. I walk the beach fairly often, but have never seen another cone or any shapes as prominent as those found on Sept. 9th and 10th, 2013. The beach changes dramatically with every tide and never fails to impress.
Marine haze hangs over the coast line and Netarts Bay, where herons and ducks feed in the shallow waters.
Where to even start.
start: 'hey babe, let's go camping. somewhere. not on a campground. in Oregon.'
And so we did. After asking several people on flickr, and several real people [it's well known flickr people are automated fabrications of your imagination], we still had no clue where to head. So I did the obvious. I opened Google maps, selected terrain, blindfolded myself, spun my chair 10 times and pointed. What I ended up with was the Oregon coast. Perfect. In Oregon, much like a mustache to an upper lip, lush forests grow right down to beaches. Amazing beaches. So, we hit Freddy Meyers, corralled the dogs and packed up the car. Way too much. Neither of us had been back country camping before, and our overabundance of gear, beer and food was testament to this. We had less stuff driving cross country. We hit the sunset highway and headed West through some gorgeous wilderness towards our final destination, Cape Meares. Mind you, this was at 9pm. Luckily, the Oregon summer holds the sun high till 10 and twilight seems to linger some time after. So, we had at least 1hr to find a trail, unpack the car, scamp through woods, haul our gear, get the pups, and setup shop that would lay claim to the next 3 nights. After a manic'd panic'd dimly lit search we decided upon a trail through a wildlife refuge. Why a wildlife refuge? It was dark, and time to do this. Tonto.
Besides, what wildlife with human predation lives on a beach?
Black bears. 2 bear cubs to be exact. That's who. And their mom. Their angry, overprotective, I'll maim you just for being within one mile of my cubs mother, whom we met at 9am the next morning. Thankfully we had already had our morning coffee, steeped to perfection over flame. So yea, the dogs charged the two bear cubs who shimmed up a 70 ft tree with all the grace of a black bear cub scaling a giant tree. It was impressive to say the least. I had my camera with me, and even pointed it to my eye. However, I couldn't push the shutter. Unlike my Yosemite bear cub experience, where there were many people around, I didn't take a photo. Instead, instinct kicked in and I knew we were in trouble. The dogs charging the cubs, and the fact the we couldn't see the mother, but knew she was close told us we should turn around, and jet. And so we did. The dogs thankfully heeded my calls and followed us as we ran back up the trail. manic'd panic'd I handed Lis my camera and wielded my Nepalese knife, ready to do battle. This was 100 yards from our chosen site. Needless to say, it was time to pack up our stuff and find another home, away from the bear family. And so we did. With a quickness. This would be the 4th trip up/down the quarter mile trail with our gear, as it took two trips each way to gather it all. Our cooler was heavy. Swollen with ice.
This story is in no way meant to take away from the the night spent in a sweet location, enjoying a nice campfire in a woods overlooking the ocean. The dogs running round the site. It sprinkled but the awe inspiring tree canopy kept us dry. We could even hear the waves from our tent.
Which led us to our next destination. We thought we'd up the wave anti by camping right on the beach. And so we did.
We setup shop on Netarts Beach, on a tip we got from a waitress in a coffee shop in a tiny coastal town. The beach was at the end of a dead end road called Happy Camp. This would surely bode well for us, no?
No. It actually didn't... Bode well... At all. What the waitress neglected to tell us was that the beach assumed the role of the ocean bottom during high tide. As in, when high tide comes, you should be off this beach. So, after an amazing day, a giant campfire, scenery to die for [punny] we settled into our tent. The waves were roaring. Seriously loud. Their gusto to be overtaken only by the constant barrage of fireworks being shot off the dune cliffs above us. This was all well and good for the first half hour, but 4 hours of firebombs bursting 10 feet over your tent tends to make one feel as though they are in The Ardennes circa 1945. The dogs were scared. Understatement. They were pissing their pants. I mean our tent. We don't make them wear pants. Lis would though, if she could. Thankfully the shelling was a blessing in disguise as it kept us awake. Until 2am. Which came in handy when I looked out the tent door and shined my mag light. The water was near. Near like 4 feet. Correction, the Singularity is near, the icy cold ocean was on us. It was time to go. Again. This time with a severe quickness. Our tent was as far back as a tent can go. We were up against a cliff face. The only way out was left. So, at 2am in the pitch dark we packed. We packed like rats. Did I mention it was raining out? We packed as much as we could for one trip off the beach. We sadly had to leave some stuff behind, like the 200lb cooler full of melted ice. And my mini grill. Our apologies to environmentalites. We had to go. Fast. The walk back down the beach was no walk on the beach. The sand was gone. Underwater. We had to skirt the cliff face on rocks. With gear hanging off of us like rented mules. Raining. 2 dogs with the look of fear in their eyes. Sidenote: I always though that if stranded somewhere, desperate, I'd want one thing with me. My dog. I change my mind. They're like kids in this situation. Baggage. At this point its time to interject with a word about my wife. She's strong. Stronger than I've thought. She did this. Without bitching once. Without crying. Without concern for herself. She carried at least 60lbs of gear on her back across a quarter mile stretch of soaking wet beach rocks with the ocean surf taunting 4 feet from her feet. Pinned against a cliff face! Now thats a wife. It's who I want with me.
We made it. Obviously. The two hour ride back to Portland at 3am was sublimely painful.
From my pics you can see the beauty we saw. It was an amazing 4th. A lot happened in 24 hours. It's good to get this down on 'paper'. It was breathtaking. Ridiculous. Gorgeous. Dangerous.
It was living Life. Full.
Where to even start.
start: 'hey babe, let's go camping. somewhere. not on a campground. in Oregon.'
And so we did. After asking several people on flickr, and several real people [it's well known flickr people are automated fabrications of your imagination], we still had no clue where to head. So I did the obvious. I opened Google maps, selected terrain, blindfolded myself, spun my chair 10 times and pointed. What I ended up with was the Oregon coast. Perfect. In Oregon, much like a mustache to an upper lip, lush forests grow right down to beaches. Amazing beaches. So, we hit Freddy Meyers, corralled the dogs and packed up the car. Way too much. Neither of us had been back country camping before, and our overabundance of gear, beer and food was testament to this. We had less stuff driving cross country. We hit the sunset highway and headed West through some gorgeous wilderness towards our final destination, Cape Meares. Mind you, this was at 9pm. Luckily, the Oregon summer holds the sun high till 10 and twilight seems to linger some time after. So, we had at least 1hr to find a trail, unpack the car, scamp through woods, haul our gear, get the pups, and setup shop that would lay claim to the next 3 nights. After a manic'd panic'd dimly lit search we decided upon a trail through a wildlife refuge. Why a wildlife refuge? It was dark, and time to do this. Tonto.
Besides, what wildlife with human predation lives on a beach?
Black bears. 2 bear cubs to be exact. That's who. And their mom. Their angry, overprotective, I'll maim you just for being within one mile of my cubs mother, whom we met at 9am the next morning. Thankfully we had already had our morning coffee, steeped to perfection over flame. So yea, the dogs charged the two bear cubs who shimmed up a 70 ft tree with all the grace of a black bear cub scaling a giant tree. It was impressive to say the least. I had my camera with me, and even pointed it to my eye. However, I couldn't push the shutter. Unlike my Yosemite bear cub experience, where there were many people around, I didn't take a photo. Instead, instinct kicked in and I knew we were in trouble. The dogs charging the cubs, and the fact the we couldn't see the mother, but knew she was close told us we should turn around, and jet. And so we did. The dogs thankfully heeded my calls and followed us as we ran back up the trail. manic'd panic'd I handed Lis my camera and wielded my Nepalese knife, ready to do battle. This was 100 yards from our chosen site. Needless to say, it was time to pack up our stuff and find another home, away from the bear family. And so we did. With a quickness. This would be the 4th trip up/down the quarter mile trail with our gear, as it took two trips each way to gather it all. Our cooler was heavy. Swollen with ice.
This story is in no way meant to take away from the the night spent in a sweet location, enjoying a nice campfire in a woods overlooking the ocean. The dogs running round the site. It sprinkled but the awe inspiring tree canopy kept us dry. We could even hear the waves from our tent.
Which led us to our next destination. We thought we'd up the wave anti by camping right on the beach. And so we did.
We setup shop on Netarts Beach, on a tip we got from a waitress in a coffee shop in a tiny coastal town. The beach was at the end of a dead end road called Happy Camp. This would surely bode well for us, no?
No. It actually didn't... Bode well... At all. What the waitress neglected to tell us was that the beach assumed the role of the ocean bottom during high tide. As in, when high tide comes, you should be off this beach. So, after an amazing day, a giant campfire, scenery to die for [punny] we settled into our tent. The waves were roaring. Seriously loud. Their gusto to be overtaken only by the constant barrage of fireworks being shot off the dune cliffs above us. This was all well and good for the first half hour, but 4 hours of firebombs bursting 10 feet over your tent tends to make one feel as though they are in The Ardennes circa 1945. The dogs were scared. Understatement. They were pissing their pants. I mean our tent. We don't make them wear pants. Lis would though, if she could. Thankfully the shelling was a blessing in disguise as it kept us awake. Until 2am. Which came in handy when I looked out the tent door and shined my mag light. The water was near. Near like 4 feet. Correction, the Singularity is near, the icy cold ocean was on us. It was time to go. Again. This time with a severe quickness. Our tent was as far back as a tent can go. We were up against a cliff face. The only way out was left. So, at 2am in the pitch dark we packed. We packed like rats. Did I mention it was raining out? We packed as much as we could for one trip off the beach. We sadly had to leave some stuff behind, like the 200lb cooler full of melted ice. And my mini grill. Our apologies to environmentalites. We had to go. Fast. The walk back down the beach was no walk on the beach. The sand was gone. Underwater. We had to skirt the cliff face on rocks. With gear hanging off of us like rented mules. Raining. 2 dogs with the look of fear in their eyes. Sidenote: I always though that if stranded somewhere, desperate, I'd want one thing with me. My dog. I change my mind. They're like kids in this situation. Baggage. At this point its time to interject with a word about my wife. She's strong. Stronger than I've thought. She did this. Without bitching once. Without crying. Without concern for herself. She carried at least 60lbs of gear on her back across a quarter mile stretch of soaking wet beach rocks with the ocean surf taunting 4 feet from her feet. Pinned against a cliff face! Now thats a wife. It's who I want with me.
We made it. Obviously. The two hour ride back to Portland at 3am was sublimely painful.
From my pics you can see the beauty we saw. It was an amazing 4th. A lot happened in 24 hours. It's good to get this down on 'paper'. It was breathtaking. Ridiculous. Gorgeous. Dangerous.
It was living Life. Full.
