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The Books of Katarina by Adrian Keeley (Feat Kat Verde-Dillingham)
VOLUME 2
CHAPTER ONE
THE WHISPERING NAME 1920
Europe had survived.
Whether civilisation had survived remained another question.
Winter settled quietly across the Carpathian Mountains.
Snow gathered upon broken stone walls that no longer belonged to any kingdom. Frost filled the cracks between ancient graves whose names had long surrendered themselves to weather. Wind whispered through the collapsed roof of the ruined monastery exactly as it had when Katarina Verde had first climbed the mountain as a curious thirteen-year-old girl carrying far too many questions for Father Pavel to answer.
Nothing had changed.
Everything had changed.
Beneath the ruin, hidden behind stone older than memory itself, the Archive endured.
It had endured kings.
It had endured revolutions.
It had endured inquisitions.
It had endured two centuries of fear.
Most remarkably of all...
It had endured the Great War.
Katarina descended the worn spiral staircase slowly.
Not because immortality required caution.
Because reverence did.
Each step had been cut by hands whose names had vanished before England possessed a parliament, before France possessed a republic, before most of Europe understood itself as Europe.
She rested one hand against the cool stone wall.
It seemed impossible that so much silence could exist beneath a continent still mourning millions of dead.
The heavy oak door opened without protest.
Warm lamplight welcomed her.
The familiar scent surrounded her immediately.
Old parchment.
Leather.
Beeswax.
Oak.
Ink.
Dust.
Knowledge.
Home.
The Great Reading Hall stretched before her in perfect stillness.
Its vaulted ceiling disappeared into shadow high above endless galleries of books, manuscripts and carefully labelled cabinets. Great oak tables stood waiting beneath brass lamps whose soft light reflected from polished wood worn smooth by generations of patient hands.
No voices disturbed the silence.
No hurried footsteps crossed the polished floor.
For the first time in nearly six years...
Nothing demanded immediate rescue.
No telegram awaited decoding.
No monastery required evacuation.
No train departed before dawn carrying another collection away from artillery.
The silence should have comforted her.
Instead...
It unsettled her.
She walked slowly through the nearest gallery.
Her fingertips drifted lightly across familiar bindings.
The Roman Collection.
Marius.
The Byzantine Catalogues.
Pandora.
The Great Family Records.
Maharet.
The Talamasca Correspondence.
Anonymous.
Always anonymous.
She smiled faintly.
Even now neither organisation officially admitted the other existed.
Yet knowledge continued passing quietly between them like pilgrims exchanging candles in darkness.
Neither asked for recognition.
Both understood purpose.
She paused before another section.
Its shelves were newer.
The leather bindings darker.
The lettering had been impressed only months earlier.
THE LOST LIBRARIES
The title seemed heavier than the volumes beneath it.
She removed the first ledger carefully.
Leuven.
Ypres.
Reims.
Villages whose names history would forever associate with destruction.
Each page described collections that no longer existed.
Not copies.
Not replacements.
Memorials.
Every manuscript known only because someone had once described it.
Every monastery whose shelves had become smoke.
Every catalogue that ended not with completion...
But with absence.
Katarina stood without moving.
Her reflection trembled faintly in the brass lamp beside her.
"I still count them."
Lucien's voice carried softly across the chamber.
She closed the ledger.
"I know."
He had approached so quietly that she had not heard him.
She rarely did.
He stood exactly as he always had.
Calm.
Immaculately dressed.
Silver beginning to touch the dark hair at his temples—not through age, for immortality granted neither youth nor old age in any mortal sense, but through that peculiar timeless dignity he had always possessed.
His eyes travelled briefly across The Lost Libraries.
Then toward her.
"You visit this shelf often."
"Every week."
"I know."
She looked at him.
"You always know."
A faint smile touched his face.
"I pay attention."
They began walking without deciding where.
The Archive had long ago become too vast for destinations.
One simply walked until memory required company.
Their footsteps echoed softly beneath the vaulted ceiling.
For several minutes neither spoke.
The Archive possessed its own language.
Turning pages.
Quiet breathing.
The distant settling of ancient shelves beneath the weight of centuries.
Katarina finally broke the silence.
"Do you ever hear them?"
Lucien glanced sideways.
"The books?"
"The people."
Another few steps.
"Sometimes."
"I thought perhaps..."
She searched for the words.
"...after the war they might become quieter."
Instead of answering, Lucien stopped beside an oak cabinet containing parish records rescued from northern France.
He withdrew a small register.
Its leather binding remained scorched along one edge.
He opened it.
Inside...
Births.
Marriages.
Deaths.
Ordinary lives recorded in careful ink by an ordinary village priest.
Lucien handed it to her.
"What do you hear?"
She read one page.
Then another.
A little girl born in spring.
A farmer buried in autumn.
Twins christened beneath heavy rain.
Nothing remarkable.
Everything remarkable.
She closed the volume.
"They're still speaking."
"They always will."
He gently returned the register to its place.
"So long as someone listens."
They continued walking.
The galleries slowly changed around them.
Greek.
Hebrew.
Latin.
Old Church Slavonic.
Persian.
Arabic.
The languages shifted as naturally as seasons.
Each shelf represented another civilisation refusing to disappear.
Katarina found herself smiling despite the heaviness still lingering within her.
"I used to believe there would come a day when we finished."
Lucien looked genuinely curious.
"Finished what?"
"The Archive."
He laughed softly.
Not mockingly.
With affection.
"There speaks someone who was once twenty."
She laughed as well.
"I was never only twenty."
"No."
"You met me at thirteen."
"I met curiosity."
His eyes wandered across the shelves.
"The years merely gave it vocabulary."
She considered that.
It felt true.
When she had been a child in the Carpathians, she had devoured every book Father Pavel permitted her to borrow.
History.
Astronomy.
Medicine.
Languages.
Her mother had once complained that Katarina read while eating.
While walking.
While brushing her hair.
While pretending to help with chores.
She had wanted answers with the desperate hunger other children reserved for sweets.
Then came the Dark Gift.
The thirst had changed.
The curiosity never had.
Perhaps Lucien was right.
Perhaps immortality had merely given her enough time to ask larger questions.
They entered the oldest chamber of the Archive.
Here the shelves were lower.
Older.
Less ornate.
This was where everything had begun.
Not with grandeur.
With necessity.
A handful of rescued manuscripts.
One frightened fledgling.
One patient teacher.
One impossible dream.
Katarina stopped before the first catalogue she had ever written.
The leather had cracked with time.
Her own youthful handwriting filled the opening pages.
Precise.
Careful.
Almost painfully determined.
She traced one line with her fingertip.
"I truly believed I could save everything."
Lucien regarded the faded ink for several moments before speaking.
"No."
She looked up.
He met her eyes.
"You believed everything deserved saving."
The distinction struck her harder than she expected.
"Is there a difference?"
"There is every difference."
He rested his hand upon the old ledger.
"A collector wishes to possess everything."
His fingers moved lightly across the worn cover.
"An archivist wishes to lose as little as possible."
Silence settled between them.
"I still failed."
Lucien did not answer immediately.
Instead he closed the old catalogue carefully and returned it to its shelf.
Only then did he speak.
"You continue measuring your life against what was destroyed."
She lowered her gaze.
"How else should I measure it?"
Lucien looked out across the endless galleries disappearing into shadow.
"That," he said quietly, "is the wrong question."
Lucien began walking again.
Katarina followed.
The phrase lingered between them.
The wrong question.
Lucien had a particular talent for leaving doors half open and expecting others to choose whether to enter.
She hated it.
She had always hated it.
Which was why, of course, she followed.
They passed into one of the newer galleries, built after the war had forced every hidden room, tunnel, and sealed chamber of the Carpathian Repository into urgent service. The stone here was paler. The shelves smelled of recent carpentry. Labels were written in several hands rather than one.
Marius.
Pandora.
Three Talamasca copyists whose names appeared nowhere in the official ledgers.
A Jewish schoolmaster from Kraków who had saved eighteen family registers before dying of influenza in 1919.
A French nun who had hidden an entire parish archive beneath sacks of flour.
An Armenian priest who had carried baptismal books across mountains stitched into the lining of his coat.
Katarina stopped beside those shelves.
Lucien noticed.
"You've been spending more time with the older shelves."
Katarina glanced around the chamber.
"Have I?"
"You have."
"I hadn't noticed."
"No," he said gently. "You were remembering rather than observing."
She smiled faintly.
"Perhaps there is less difference than I once believed."
Then her attention returned to the labels.
Not to the books.
The labels hurt more.
"They were not helping us."
"No?"
"They were saving their own."
Lucien nodded.
"Yes."
He let the word rest.
Then added, "And that is why they succeeded."
Katarina looked at him.
He turned toward the shelves, his face half-shadowed by the lamplight.
"People rarely risk everything for an abstraction. Civilisation. History. Culture. These are grand words, and grand words are often useless at the moment of danger."
He touched the spine of the Kraków registers.
"But a grandmother's name. A child's baptism. The proof of a marriage. The record of a house that once stood. These things a man will hide beneath his coat while the world burns."
Katarina closed her eyes briefly.
There it was again.
Lucien's quiet correction.
Not cruel.
Worse.
Exact.
For years she had spoken of preserving history.
The war had taught her that history, in its truest form, did not know it was history while it was being saved.
It was simply love refusing to surrender evidence.
They came at last to the great table where the Archive map had been spread during the war.
It was no longer there.
For five years that table had carried Europe upon its scarred oak surface: fronts marked in red, evacuation routes in black, destroyed repositories in ash-grey ink. Every movement of armies had been translated into danger to memory.
Now the table was bare.
The emptiness disturbed her.
Lucien drew out a chair.
She sat.
He remained standing.
That was deliberate too.
"You asked whether hope is enough," he said.
"Yes."
"It is not."
"I know."
"No," Lucien said. "You feel it. That is not the same as knowing."
Katarina's mouth tightened.
He continued before she could answer.
"Hope does not rebuild shelves. Hope does not copy manuscripts. Hope does not smuggle children across borders, or conceal ledgers in wine barrels, or memorise family names when paper has failed."
He looked down at her.
"Hope is not enough."
The words were harsh.
The tone was not.
"Then what is?"
"Duty."
She almost laughed.
The word sounded too human.
Too military.
Too small for what she felt.
Lucien saw the reaction.
"Do not dismiss simple words because priests and generals have abused them."
Katarina looked away.
The room seemed suddenly too large.
"Duty to whom?"
"To the dead," he said. "To the living. To those not yet born. To the truth when it can be known, and to uncertainty when it cannot."
Silence.
Then, more softly:
"And to the work."
The work.
Not glory.
Not destiny.
Not legend.
The work.
That, at least, she understood.
For a long while they sat without speaking.
The lamps burned steadily.
Far away in some upper passage, a door closed with a soft wooden sound. One of the human assistants, perhaps. Or one of the Talamasca copyists who never asked why the mistress of the Archive looked exactly as she had in reports written before their grandfathers were born.
Katarina folded her hands upon the table.
"I keep thinking of Repository Seven."
"I know."
"It should not matter more than the others."
"No."
"But it does."
Lucien sat opposite her at last.
"Because you saw it die."
The sentence was unbearable in its simplicity.
"Yes."
"You cannot grieve equally for every loss."
"Shouldn't I?"
"No."
His answer was immediate.
"If grief were equal, it would become arithmetic. It is not. It is recognition."
Katarina looked at him.
"You mourn what you touched."
"And what I failed to touch."
"Yes."
He leaned back slightly.
"That is why the Archive exists. To let others touch what would otherwise have vanished beyond reach."
She said nothing.
"You still believe you failed because the Archive lost one of its limbs."
"One of its hearts."
"No," Lucien said.
This time there was steel in the word.
She looked up sharply.
"No?"
"No."
He held her gaze.
"No single repository is the heart. I told you this during the war, but you did not yet believe me."
He placed one hand flat upon the table.
"The heart is not stone. Not shelves. Not keys. Not even the manuscripts. The heart is continuity."
He paused.
"And continuity survived."
Katarina wanted to argue.
She could not.
After a time, Lucien rose and crossed to a locked cabinet built into the far wall.
She had seen him open it only once before, during the first weeks of mobilisation. From it he had taken the map that revealed the hidden network in its terrible entirety.
Now he opened it again.
This time he removed no map.
Only a small bundle tied with faded blue ribbon.
He placed it before her.
Katarina frowned.
"What is this?"
"Your first journal."
She did not touch it.
For a moment she could not.
The cover was worn.
The corners softened by use.
The leather stained by age and smoke and something else—perhaps rain, perhaps blood, perhaps the careless handling of a girl who had not yet understood that paper could become sacred.
She knew it immediately.
OBSERVATIONS
The word remained visible across the first page, written in a hand that belonged to a thirteen-year-old child who still believed answers waited obediently beneath questions.
Katarina opened it.
Wolf stories.
Village disappearances.
Weather patterns.
Monastic symbols.
A list of names copied from tombstones.
Contradictory accounts arranged side by side with ruthless little notes in the margins.
She smiled despite herself.
"I was insufferable."
Lucien's expression softened.
"You were magnificent."
She looked up.
He rarely praised.
He never flattered.
The distinction mattered.
"I was a child."
"Yes."
"A strange child."
"Yes."
She laughed quietly.
"You might pretend to disagree."
"I might," he said, "but you would know."
She turned another page.
There, near the middle, was a crude drawing of the monastery door before she knew where it led.
The first door.
The first threshold.
The first time curiosity had become fate.
Lucien watched her read.
"Do you remember what you wanted then?"
"To know."
"What?"
"Everything."
"And now?"
She did not answer immediately.
The question seemed too simple.
Too dangerous.
At last she said, "To preserve enough that others may know after us."
Lucien nodded once.
"Then you did change."
She looked at him, startled.
He touched the old journal.
"Curiosity asks for itself."
His hand moved toward the surrounding shelves.
"Memory answers for others."
Katarina closed the journal and sat very still.
For nearly two centuries she had thought of herself as driven by the same hunger that had animated her childhood. A hunger for knowledge. A hunger that survived death, sharpened by the Dark Gift until books, blood, and truth all became forms of thirst.
But Lucien was right.
The hunger had altered.
The child had wanted to know because not knowing was intolerable.
The vampire had learned that knowledge alone could become vanity.
The Archivist had learned something more difficult.
Knowledge must be kept for those who would never know her name.
That was the difference.
That was the burden.
That was the freedom.
"Do they know?" she asked.
Lucien tilted his head.
"Who?"
"The others."
"Marius? Pandora? Maharet?"
"Them. And the Talamasca. The younger ones. The immortals who send journals without signatures. The monks. The scholars. The widows. The people who hide things in walls and graves and bread ovens."
Her voice lowered.
"Do they know what they are part of?"
Lucien smiled faintly.
"Rarely."
"That seems unfair."
"It is history."
She accepted that.
History had never been fair.
Only survivable.
Sometimes.
Lucien rose again, but this time he motioned for her to follow.
They left the reading hall through a narrow passage leading into one of the most recent chambers.
Katarina knew the room well.
It contained donations received after the war.
Not from great immortals.
Not from famous families.
From strangers.
A diary carried by a nurse through three field hospitals.
A packet of letters written by a soldier who died before posting them.
A synagogue ledger copied by a boy of sixteen and sent anonymously through three countries.
A painter's sketchbook.
A priest's list of villagers buried without coffins.
A Talamasca field report with the name deliberately removed.
There were also newer items.
More unsettling ones.
Journals from younger immortals.
Not fledglings exactly.
Not elders.
The restless middle creatures who had survived enough decades to understand that immortality did not automatically become meaning.
Lucien removed a slim leather journal from one of the newer shelves.
"This arrived three months ago."
Katarina opened it carefully.
Most of the pages contained nothing remarkable.
Travel.
Observations.
Names of cities.
Small reflections written by an immortal scarcely a century old.
Then one paragraph caught her attention.
Some claim an ancient Roman has visited the hidden shelves.
Others insist such a place cannot exist.
Still... I have begun keeping better records.
She looked up.
"No names."
"No."
"No certainty."
"None."
She closed the journal.
"Only possibility."
Lucien nodded once.
"Possibility travels further than certainty."
Katarina looked around the chamber.
Shelves disappeared into darkness.
Countless lives rested behind leather and oak.
She spoke almost in a whisper.
"They're speaking about us."
Lucien quietly shook his head.
"No."
She looked at him.
A long silence settled between them.
Then he gestured slowly toward the endless shelves surrounding them.
"They're speaking about the possibility."
She frowned slightly.
"I don't understand."
"A place where memory survives."
His voice was almost lost among the lamps.
"People need that idea."
Another silence followed.
"Whether it is true is almost secondary."
They stood together for several minutes without speaking.
Beyond the stone ceiling, Europe continued rebuilding itself.
Cities cleared rubble.
Families searched for missing names.
Churches reopened.
Libraries welcomed readers once more.
Life, as it always had, continued.
Beneath the mountain, the Archive waited with quiet patience.
Not demanding.
Never calling.
Simply remembering.
Katarina finally broke the silence.
"Do you think they'll ever find us?"
Lucien looked slowly across the endless galleries disappearing into shadow.
His answer came almost as a prayer.
"I hope they never need to."
The words settled gently into the silence.
Katarina understood.
If anyone came searching for the Archive, it would mean the world had once again begun to forget itself.
She looked once more across the countless shelves.
Not with pride.
With gratitude.
Then, without another word, the two archivists resumed their quiet work beneath the mountains, while above them a wounded century struggled to remember what it had survived.
--------------------------------------------
Image Prompt - Ultra-photorealistic IMAX cinematic photograph, 16:9. Deep beneath a ruined Carpathian monastery, the vast windowless Archive stretches endlessly through vaulted stone galleries lined with towering oak bookshelves, antique catalogue cabinets, ladders, manuscript stacks and warm Victorian gas lamps fading into darkness. Katarina, an immortal archivist with long golden-blonde natural curls, porcelain skin and elegant refined features, walks beside Lucien, tall with olive complexion, strong classical masculine features and shoulder-length dark wavy hair brushed back. They wear authentic early-1920s scholarly attire—Katarina in a fitted deep-plum Edwardian coat over a high-collared cream blouse, dark gloves and long skirt; Lucien in a black wool overcoat, waistcoat and tie. They walk slowly through the endless aisles in quiet philosophical conversation, both looking at one another rather than the camera. Around them lie centuries of preserved books, maps, journals and carefully labelled archival drawers. Warm amber gaslight reflects from polished stone floors, creating dramatic depth and intimate atmosphere. Museum-quality historical realism, Netflix production design, Unreal Engine 5.5 realism, HDR cinematic lighting, 70mm lens, razor-sharp focus, rich textures, subtle volumetric light, immense sense of scale, no daylight, no windows, no text, no logos, no watermark.
Pic, Prompt and Story by Adrian
IF, THEN, AND THE ATHEIST DILEMMA.
All scientific theories are based on ‘if’ and ‘then’. The proposition being; IF such a thing is so, THEN we can expect certain effects to be evident.
For example: there are only two competing alternatives for the origin/first cause of everything.
A natural, first cause, OR a supernatural, first cause.
Atheists believe in a natural, first cause.
Theists believe in a supernatural, first cause.
IF the first cause is natural, THEN progressive evolution of the universe (cosmos) and life are deemed to be expected, even essential.
Conversely, IF the first cause is supernatural, THEN an evolutionary scenario of the cosmos and/or life is not required, not probable, but not impossible.
In other words, while evolution, and an enormous, time frame are perceived as absolutely essential for atheist naturalism, theism could (perhaps reluctantly) accept evolution and/or a long, time frame as possible in a creation scenario.
Crucially, if the evidence doesn’t stack up for cosmic evolution, biological evolution, and a long evolutionary time frame, atheist naturalism is perceived to fail.
For atheism, evolution is an Achilles heel. Atheists have an ideological commitment to a natural origin of everything from nothing - which, if it were possible, would essentially require both cosmic and biological evolution and a vast timescale.
Consequently, atheist scientists can never be genuinely objective in assessing evidence. Only theist scientists can be truly objective.
However, the primary Achilles heel for atheist naturalism is its starting proposition.
Because the ‘IF’ proposal of a natural, first cause, is fatally flawed, the subsequent ‘THEN’ is a non sequitur.
The atheist ‘IF’ (a natural, first cause) is logically impossible according to the laws of nature, because all natural entities are contingent, temporal and temporary.
In other words:
All natural entities depend on an adequate cause.
All natural entities have a beginning.
And all natural entities are subject to entropy.
Whereas a first cause MUST be non-contingent, infinite and eternal.
But, just suppose we ignore this insurmountable obstacle and, for the sake of argument, assume that the ‘THEN’ which follows from the atheist ‘IF’ proposition of a natural, first cause is worth considering.
We realise that both cosmic and biological evolution are still not possible as NATURAL occurrences.
The law of cause and effect tells us that whatever caused the universe (whether it evolved or not) could not be inferior, in any way, to the sum total of the universe.
An effect cannot be greater than its cause.
So, we know that cosmic evolution from nothing could not happen naturally.
That traps atheists in an impossible, catch 22 situation, by supporting cosmic evolution, they are supporting something which could not happen naturally, according to natural laws.
It doesn’t get any better with biological evolution, in fact it gets worse. The Law of Biogenesis (which has never been falsified) rules out the spontaneous generation of life from sterile matter. Atheists choose to ignore this firmly established law and have, perversely, invented their own law (abiogenesis), which says the exact opposite. However, their cynical disregard for laws of nature, ironically, fails to solve their problem.
Crucially ...
An origin of life, arising of its own volition from sterile matter, conditions permitting (abiogenesis), would require an inherent predisposition/potential of matter to automatically develop life.
The atheist dilemma here is; where does such an inherent predisposition to automatically produce life come from? In a purposeless universe, which arose from nothing, how could matter have acquired such a potential or property?
A predisposed potential for spontaneous generation of life would require a purposeful creation (some sort of blueprint/plan for life intrinsic to matter). So, by advocating abiogenesis, atheists are unintentionally supporting a purposeful creation.
Following on from that, we also realise that abiogenesis requires an initial input of constructive, genetic information. Information Theory tells us; there is no NATURAL means by which such information can arise of its own accord in matter.
Then there is the problem of the law of entropy (which derives from the Second Law of Thermodynamics). How can abiogenesis defy that law? The only way that order can increase is by an input of guided energy. Raw energy has the opposite effect. What could possibly direct or guide the energy to counter the natural effects of entropy?
Dr James Tour - 'The Origin of Life'
Suppose we are stupid enough to ignore all this and we carry on speculating further by proposing a progressive, microbes-to-human evolution (Darwinism).
Starting with the limited, genetic information in the first cell (which originated how, and from where? nobody knows). The only method of increasing that original information is through a long, incremental series of beneficial mutations (genetic, copying MISTAKES). Natural selection cannot produce new information, it simply selects from existing information.
Proposing mistakes as a mechanism for improvement is not sensible. In fact, it is completely bonkers. Billions of such beneficial mutations would be required to transform microbes into humans and every other living thing.
Once again, it would need help from a purposeful creator.
So, we can conclude that the atheist ‘IF’, of a natural, first cause, is not only a non-starter, but also every ‘THEN’, which would essentially arise from that proposal, ironically supports the theist ‘IF’.
Consequently ...
If you don't believe in cosmic evolution you (obviously) support a creator.
If you do believe in cosmic evolution you (perhaps unintentionally) also support a creator.
And...
If you don’t believe in abiogenesis and biological evolution, you (obviously) support a creator.
If you do believe in abiogenesis and biological evolution you (perhaps unintentionally) also support a creator.
Conclusion:
The inevitable and amazing conclusion is that everyone (intentionally or unintentionally) supports the existence of a creator, whatever scenario they propose for the origin of the universe.
No one can devise an origin scenario for the universe that doesn’t require a Creator. That is a fact, whether you like it or not!
The Bible correctly declares:
Only the fool in his heart says there is no God.
Theists have no ideological need to be dogmatic. Unlike atheists, they can assess all the available scientific evidence objectively. Because a long timescale, and even an evolutionary scenario, in no way disproves a creator. In fact, as I have already explained, a creator would still be essential to enable: cosmic evolution, the origin of life, and microbes-to-human evolution. Whereas, both a long timescale and biological evolution are deemed essential to (but are no evidence for) the beliefs of atheist naturalism.
Atheist scientists are hamstrung by their own preconceptions.
It is impossible for atheists to be objective regarding any evidence. They are forced by their own ideological commitment to make dogmatic assumptions. It is unthinkable that atheists would even consider any interpretation of the evidence, other than that which they perceive (albeit erroneously) to support naturalism. They force science into a straitjacket of their own making.
All scientific hypotheses/theories about past events, that no one witnessed, rely on assumptions. None can be claimed as FACT.
The biggest assumption of all, and one that is logically and scientifically unsustainable, is the idea of a natural, first cause. If this is your starting assumption, then everything that follows is flawed.
The new atheist nonsense, is simply the old, pagan nonsense of naturalism in a new guise.
Dr James Tour - 'The Origin of Life' - Abiogenesis decisively refuted.
youtu.be/B1E4QMn2mxk
The poison in our midst - progressive politics.
This hike is a classic and insanely popular during wildflower season. Permits are required on weekends (luckily, I almost always hike on weekdays). This hike is always a challenge, regards of how fit I *feel* I am - the incline along certain stretches will make you laugh in disbelief. But it's not a long hike, and the views more than make up for the effort.
I decided during this hike last year to take the alternate route down - the path that leads you towards Augspurger Mountain and then loops back around. It adds a mile (maybe more?) to the total, but is so, SO much easier on the knees in terms of descent (and also peacefully quiet).
Image made with my Hasselblad 500 C/M.
Enough clouds finally drifted in this morning to make it a nice sunrise. As you can see, all the leaves have fallen off the black walnut at the overlook. And as the Sun drifts further and further South for the winter, this will be in the few compositions available at this time of year.
I’ve tried to be nice about pointing out the impediments to photography at Monte Sano State Park. But as I’ve found throughout my life, nice doesn’t seem to spur people to action. It’s a shame. I guess I’ll have to try other methods — as much as I hate them. But assuming the word “overlook” has any meaning, maintenance is required to maintain the view.
Oh well. Y’all just enjoy the view. I’ll work on making sure we still have one to enjoy.
Nikon D7200 — Nikon 18-300mm F6.3 ED VR
28mm
F8@1/50th
ISO 400
GND filter
DSB_1989.JPG
©Don Brown 2024
On 27 April 2025 TfW's 197103 slows for a brief stop at Pembrey & Burry Port whilst working 1B97. the 12.40 Fishguard Harbour to Cardiff Central. At some point in the recent past this unstaffed station has been cared for as there has been quite a lot of flowers and shrubs planted, but little appears to have been done to maintain it since, unfortunately.
It has been said that the truth needs two witnesses
And despite the exhaustion and despite the encroaching twilight
I believe we may have found it...
Thank you Lipa...
-THEORY LABS - LOS ANGELES-
Me and Sara made a batch of home made pickles!
Recipe
This is a great recipe, because it requires relatively little time (no overnight soaking or waiting), and the pickles stay crunchy!
What you're going to need:
-Fresh small cucumbers
-Mason Jars (with new caps)
-A large pot
-Vinager
-Dill
-Spices
-Sugar
-Salt
1- Preparing the Cucumbers and Dill
Wash the cucumbers and leave the ends on. Dry them using a clean cloth. Then, using a fork, jab them 3-4 times on each side. Set them aside.
Wash and cut the fresh dill, and set aside.
2- Preparing the Mason Jars
Make sure none of the jars are cracked!
The key to preserves is to kill off any microbial or bacterial life, and then seal in the food to keep any new microbes from creeping in. So we have to sterilize the glass jars. If you own a dishwasher you are in luck, because that's a great way to accomplish this, as dishwashers use very hot water.
If you don't own a dishwasher (like me), clean the jars and rinse them off. Put them in the oven at 200F. This is more than enough to kill off any bacteria.
Mason jars come with screw tops and detachable lids. The lid part has a rubber lining on its bottom side. You'll have to boil these lids in order to sterilize them and to soften the rubber seal. If you are re-using old Mason jars (which is great; they are designed to be reusable!), you'll have to get new lids as these cannot be reused. Replacement lids can be found anywhere you can find Mason jars.
You'll have to keep these lids lightly boiling as you'll need them to be hot when you put them on the jar.
3- Preparing the vinegar solution
For the vinegar solution you'll need your big pot, in which you will boil;
2 Quarts Water (10 cups)
1 1/2 Quart Vinegar (7 1/2 cups)
1 cup white sugar
1/2 cup salt
Spices
Spice to your liking. Pickling spices can be purchased, or you can just throw in your favorites which would go well with dill pickles. Mustard seeds, Fennel seeds, Bay leaves, All Spice etc.
Once its boiling, lower the heat to keep it at a light boil.
4- Filling the jars
So now your cucumbers and dill is prepared, you have your vinegar solution at a light boil, your Mason jars are in the oven and your lids are in lightly boiling water. You're ready to pack the jars.
Grab a jar out of the oven (or dishwasher). Use some mitts, its hot glass! Put some dill on the bottom, then pack the jar with as many cucumbers you can. You might have to cut one or two to fit them. That's okay; keeping them whole is not mandatory. You can cut them all if you like. Leave a bit of space at the top for more dill, and so that the pickles are properly submerged. Pack some dill on top.
Now fill the jar almost to the top (leave 1/2 to 1/4 inch) with vinegar solution. If you want to avoid a huge mess, this works best with a ladle and funnel.
Now grab a lid from the boiling water and place it on top, securing it with the screw top ring. Screw it on firmly enough so that it is not loose and solidly in place, but do not tighten it too much! You'll do that later after it has cooled. The reason for this is that if you tighten too much now, when everything is hot, as it cools the metal will contract and this may crack the glass.
Thats it! Set it aside to cool off.
As they cool, every now and then you will hear a "pock!". This is the sign that your preserves are good: As everything cools, the liquid and small amount of air in the jar contracts, creating a vacuum. This sucks in the lid part so that it curves slightly inwards, showing that the contents are sealed in a vacuum.
In the event that one of your jar has not created a vacuum (the lid is not sucked inwards), it may mean that something was not done right, or air is getting into to jar somehow. Its not the end of the world but i would recommend putting that one in the fridge.
We lost power last week for over 30 hours and the dough was in the fridge and instead of throwing it out I made ornaments but forgot the holes!! Oh well! I will poke holes in them and hang them on the tree!
This is my latest Italian dictionary, which is bigger and probably better than its predecessors. But I'm struggling with the idea that it's a pocket dictionary. Only my big winter jacket has a pocket big enough, and I won't be sitting in the park in January pondering translations.
Today the Hereios of the We're Here group are shooting Green, Green Things.
Little bitty bout' the famous Popsicle:
-it was invented by a an 11 year old boy in 1905, named Frank Epperson.
-He happened to leave his cup filled with soda and a stirring stick out on his porch.
-temps dropped, causing it to freeze, and... TaDA! this tasty can't-live-without summer treat was born.
-When Frank was 29, he marketed his first "Epsicle" (named after his last name) in California.
-His children, being too little to pronounce "Epsicle" simply called them "POPsicles" after their dear Dad.
-Frank was persuaded by his family to change the official name of his invention to Popsicle. (who knew?!?)
-A few years later, they were bought by a company in New York and distributed through out the U.S.
**you can never know too much trivia**
Saturday Into Sunday Slow Cooker No Hurry Nihari First Time Experiment A Huge Success - IMRAN™
Nihari (from the Urdu/Persisn word Nihar for morning) is a meticulously planned, super-slow cooked, elaborately spiced, tender beef dish infused with the richness of bone marrow. It started in the kitchens of Nawabs (Muslim rulers of princely states in pre-partition India).
I got hooked on it growing up in Karachi where the tradition continued in Pakistan. Some places had it in Lahore too. However, in the early 1980s I’d go straight to my favorite place (in the backstreet food places off the intersection of Tariq Road and Allama-Iqbal Road) when I’d visit my late maternal grandmother, who lived in our Karachi home.
My absolute non-interest in cooking is globally-known and eternally-established. But, that doesn’t mean I don’t like to use kitchen gadgets to experiment… especially since I got my Philips Air Fryer (awesome for salmon filets) and CrockPot slow cooker.
This time I got ambitious, and decided to make Nihari over this mid-Ramadan weekend. Maybe the full moon made me do it.
On top of Nihari being hard to make as it is, I decided to do my own version — without firing up any stove, any saucepan, or doing any kind of frying as some stages require. I have to say, I surprised myself by how absolutely fantastic it turned out.
IMRANi Nihari, say hello to blood pressure, cholesterol, and obesity!
© 2024 IMRAN™
Today the Hereios of the We're Here! group are trying to get up to speed on camera movement.
Fortunately, my Samsung phone allows the user to set a shutter speed, in this case 1/15 second.
"We shall require a substantially new manner of thinking if mankind is to survive."
- Albert Einstein
Seven Gables, Sierra Nevada, California
(or maybe it's Recess Peak; I have to pull out my old maps to be sure)
John Muir Wilderness
Kodachrome 64
July 1976
Last year's Earth Day photo is here:
Mirit Ben Nun: Shortness of breath
'Shortness of breath' is not only a sign of physical weakness, it is a metaphor for a mental state of strong desire that knows no repletion; more and more, an unbearable glut, without repose. Mirit Ben Nun's type of work on the other hand requires an abundance of patience. This is a Sisyphean work (requiring hard labor) of marking lines and dots, filling every empty millimeter with brilliant blots. Therefore we are facing a paradox or a logical conflict. A patient and effortful work that stems from an urgent need to cover and fill, to adorn and coat. Her craft of layering reaches a state of a continuous ceremonial ritual.
This ritual digests every object into itself - useful or discarded -- available and ordinary or rare and exceptional -- they submit and devote to the overlay work. Mirit BN gathers scrap off the streets -- cardboard rolls of fabric, assortments of wooden boards and pieces, plates and planks -- and constructs a new link, her own syntax, which she alone is fully responsible for. The new combination -- a type of a sculptural construction -- goes through a process of patching by the act of painting.
In fact Mirit regards her three dimensional objects as a platform for painting, with a uniform continuity, even if it has obstacles, mounds and valleys. These objects beg her to paint, to lay down colors, to set in motion an intricate weave of abstract patterns that at times finds itself wandering the contours of human images and sometimes -- not. In those cases what is left is the monotonous activity of running the patterns, inch by inch, till their absolute coverage, till a short and passing instant of respite and than on again to a new onset.
Next to this assembly of garbage and it's recycling into 'painted sculptures' Mirit offers a surprising reunion between her illustrated objects and so called cheap African sculpture; popular artifacts or articles that are classified in the standard culture as 'primitive'.
This combination emphasizes the difference between her individualistic performance and the collective creation which is translated into cultural clichés. The wood carved image creates a moment of peace within the crowded bustle; an introverted image, without repetitiveness and reverberation. This meeting of strangers testifies that Mirit' work could not be labeled under the ´outsiders art´ category. She is a one woman school who is compelled to do the art work she picked out to perform. Therefore she isn't creating ´an image´ such as the carved wooden statues, but she produces breathless ´emotional jam' whose highest values are color, motion, beauty and plenitude. May it never lack, neither diluted, nor dull for even an instant
Tali Tamir
Here's another treatment of Sky Pocket on the Paria Plateau, fixed up a little with Topaz AI. The clouds are real-time authentic.
This magnificent spot was virtually unknown, in photographs at least, till I hiked to it in May 2017 and explored it from below and above. The discovery hike was posted on my YouTube channel.
Since my visit, a few other photographers have hiked there based on my photos and videos. I returned to it in 2018 and 2019.
The spot requires a nearly 2-mile hike from the nearest road. Since my photos were all taken mid-day (see my skypocket tag), it remains to be seen what an adventurous photographer could do with this scene at first light before sunrise, or under the stars in moonlight. I bet it would be spectacular.
This was not the only highlight of the area. On subsequent hikes I found more and greater points of interest nearby. The whole area is an explorer's dream.
Fort Lytton, a pentagonal earthwork fortification located at the mouth of the Brisbane River, was constructed in 1880-82 by the Queensland government on advice from British military engineers Col. Sir WFD Jervois and Lt. Col. PH Scratchley. The fort contributed to the coastal defence of Queensland until the end of the Second World War. In 1990 the site was gazetted as an Historic National Park.
Prior to the 1860s, defence of the Australian colonies had been solely the responsibility of the Imperial government. Britain considered that the Imperial Navy would always provide the first line of defence in any threat to her colonial empire, but from 1863 required the Australian colonies, by then self-governing, to contribute toward the costs of maintaining Imperial garrisons on colonial soil, and encouraged the colonies to provide for their own military infrastructure such as fortifications and barracks. Queensland, which had separated from New South Wales in December 1859, could not afford to contribute to Imperial defence, and so Imperial troops were gradually withdrawn from the colony - the last had left by 1870. In the 1860s Queensland established a number of volunteer defence units, based on the British model, but their effectiveness was severely impaired by a lack of armaments and ammunition.
By the 1870s the Australian colonies were developing rapidly and were concerned with potential threats from colonial powers such as Russia and France [the latter had annexed New Caledonia in 1873]. In 1877 the colonial governments of New South Wales, Queensland, Victoria and South Australia, anxious to secure the land defence of their coastlines, jointly invited British Royal Engineers Colonel Sir William Francis Drummond Jervois and Lieutenant-Colonel Peter H Scratchley, to inspect existing defence installations and make recommendations as to how these might be improved. Scratchley's particular expertise was in the design and construction of deterrent coastal fortresses.
Jervois and Scratchley identified maritime attacks as the greatest threat to Australia, and recommended that coastal defences be developed for all the mainland colonies. Despite being physically closer to the source of most threats, Queensland, with its sparse population and limited resources, was not considered to be greatly at risk. In his August 1877 preliminary report on Queensland coastal defences, Jervois identified the principal threat to Queensland security as an attack from the sea on the major ports [Brisbane, Rockhampton and Maryborough], in the form of city bombardment to secure supplies and coal, rather than for permanent occupation. Sea-power would prove the first line of defence, but recommended that Brisbane, as the capital and principal port of Queensland, be defended with the construction of a fort at Lytton, at the mouth of the Brisbane River. Moreton Bay, with its myriad of islands on which enemy forces might establish bases from which to raid the mainland, could not possibly be defended. However, sandbars at the mouth of the Brisbane River, which restricted the size of up-river vessels to a 4.8 metre draught [unarmoured gun boats], provided a natural defence which could be enhanced with the construction of a fort at the river mouth, supplemented by sub-marine mines located so as to force shipping within range of the guns located at the fort.
In late 1878, despite initial opposition to the cost of Jervois' scheme, the Queensland Parliament sanctioned the construction of Fort Lytton. Early in 1879 Scratchley fixed the position of the battery, and Colonial Architect FDG Stanley, in consultation with Scratchley, commenced work on plans for the barracks, magazines and gun emplacements, which were to be constructed in brick and concrete. Excavation and earthworks for the Lytton battery commenced in August 1880, tenders for construction of barracks, magazine, etc were called in September 1880, and the main battery was completed by mid-1882. The contractor for the whole was John Watson of Bulimba. In 1882 the firing of two 64-pounders signalled the commencement of operations at Fort Lytton.
The fort was constructed at an initial cost of £10,000, and comprised four gun emplacements protected by a closed earthwork parapet surrounded by a water-filled moat, which extended a quarter of a mile around the perimeter, enclosing some 900 square yards of ground. Within the moat was a narrow berm, beyond which was an earthen mound or parapet, turfed to reduce the risk of erosion and to improve the camouflage of the site - the object being to conceal the fort from ships entering the river. The mound formed an irregular pentagon, and within the parapet were set four gun-bays to house the larger 64-pounder RML guns. Gun positions 1 and 2 protected the seaward approach to the fort, and positions 3 and 4 covered the mined area within the river mouth. [In 1893 the 64-pounders in gun positions 3 and 4 were replaced with 6-pounder QF guns, and gun positions 5 and 6 were constructed to house the RML guns removed from positions 3 and 4.] The landward side was to be defended by field guns. Inside the fort were barracks, powder magazine and shell room, with brick-lined passages connecting the magazines to the gun emplacements. Lifting tackle was installed on rails to facilitate the handling of ammunition. Special accommodation was provided for the electrical connections associated with the submarine explosive devices which were strung across the river. The rear parapet sheltered timber buildings to house the officers, guards, cook-house and ablutions areas. The entry was provided with a timber bridge and the entry passage was reinforced with timber blocks bolted together. A wooden gate reinforced with iron sheeting protected the entry. Scratchley also arranged for prickly plants, trees and buffalo grass to be planted over the battery, to supplement the defences. In addition, a boys' reformatory was established on nearby Lytton Hill in 1880-81, the buildings to serve a dual function as part of a Redoubt commanding Fort Lytton. The Redoubt was not completed until 1885.
Even as Fort Lytton was under construction, attitudes towards colonial defence were changing. Military experts were supporting the implementation of more mobile defence forces, as opposed to fixed facilities such as the Lytton battery. Technology was changing rapidly, both for weaponry and shipping, such that techniques for defence against maritime attack were under constant review. Despite this, Fort Lytton was maintained and contributed to Queensland's defences until the mid-20th century. It also served as a semi-permanent military camp from 1881 until the early 1930s, principally during the annual Easter Encampments at which militia from all over Queensland gathered at Lytton for manoeuvres.
Following the passage of Queensland's Defence Act 1884 under which a core defence force of 150 men was established, supplemented by militia groups, "A" Battery Queensland Artillery was garrisoned at Fort Lytton. During the 'Russian scare' of March 1885 [generated by British-Russian mobilisation along the Afghanistan border], 20 men from "A" Battery, and 200 troops raised from militia units, were mobilised at Fort Lytton to defend Brisbane; the force was stood down in May when the border dispute was submitted to arbitration.
Following the 'Russian scare' a series of improvements to the Lytton battery were approved in 1887. These included the provision of casemates, and an engine shed to accommodate dynamo, two boilers, and duplicate engines. An underground tank to hold 10,000 gallons of water was also constructed. Queensland's muzzle-loading guns were sent to England for conversion to breech-loading and new hydro-pneumatic carriages were provided. The slope of the embankments at Fort Lytton was eased to provide a deflection surface or glacis for enemy shells. Further improvements occurred as funds became available.
When the Lytton Defence Reserve of 120 acres [48 hectares] was finally gazetted late in 1887, it included Reformatory Hill, Fort Lytton, and possibly part of the Customs Reserve. By 1901 the Defence Reserve had been extended to 640 acres [259 hectares] following the resumption [in two stages: 1891 and 1900] of Lytton township for defence purposes.
The severe economic depression of the early 1890s restricted expenditure on Fort Lytton, but by 1897 money was once again being spent on the facility. A shed was provided for artillery stores and a new smithy, fitters' and carpenters' workshops and a large new store were constructed. Additional storage was provided in 1900.
In 1901 the Queensland Defence Force was amalgamated into the new Commonwealth defence force, and Fort Lytton was transferred to Commonwealth ownership. Various small improvements were made to the fort during the early 1900s. In 1903 a new concrete base was provided for the search light which had been installed in 1892. Culverts, roads and wharf structures were repaired and improved. A new bridge was provided over the moat in 1907 as well as new ablutions areas, gates and kitchen facilities. In the years immediately prior to the First World War [1914-18] yards for horses were provided and major repairs were made to the wharf servicing the fort. With the outbreak of war, new barracks and cook-houses were erected [1914-15] and water supplies and drainage were improved. A new forage barn was built in 1916 and a dermatological hospital was constructed on Lytton Hill in 1917. The fort fired in anger only twice during the First World War - on both occasions a round was fired across the bows of civilian craft which ignored procedures for approaching the river mouth during war time.
In 1913-14 a quarantine station was established on land adjacent to the fort. This accommodated newly arrived immigrants and persons considered to be at risk of causing infection to the general population. The quarantine station buildings at various times also provided accommodation for persons stationed at the fort. Fort Lytton also played a role in the function of the quarantine station, controlling ships attempting to enter the Brisbane River without appropriate health clearances.
By the end of the First World War the inadequacies of Fort Lytton as a defensive base were clearly apparent. Expenditure was kept to a minimum during the interwar period and in 1932 the wharf at Fort Lytton was closed, with the battery relying on the berthing facilities at the quarantine station. In 1938 training walls and revetments were installed along the river banks to improve navigation and flood control.
The Second World War [1939-45] brought a major change in the role which Fort Lytton served in the defence of Australia. The longer-ranging capabilities of modern armaments made real the threat of shipping and aircraft strikes. In response, outer defences were established on Moreton and Bribie Islands and anti-aircraft installations were provided at Lytton, Colmslie, Hemmant, Balmoral, Hendra Park, Mount Gravatt, Archerfield, Amberley and on the islands in Moreton Bay. Fort Lytton provided an important coastal communication link and was pivotal to the coastal defence of the Brisbane River. Boom defences against submarine invasion were placed in the river at Lytton, and the fort was adapted to defend these: gun position 4 was altered to accommodate a modern 4.7 inch QF gun; gun position 7 was installed to house a 6-pounder QF gun; and a forward command post was constructed to provide a better viewing position than was available previously. A signal station was established on Lytton Hill and an anti-aircraft facility was established on land between the fort and the hill.
Fort Lytton's role as a defensive facility ceased in 1946 when all fixed coastal defensive positions in Australia were decommissioned, but military authorities maintained Fort Lytton as a communications base until the 1950s. In the early 1960s the land was acquired by Ampol for the establishment of an oil refinery. During the construction of the refinery fill was deposited in the moat, and the timber bridge across the moat, which the military had damaged by fire in the 1950s, was replaced by a permanent causeway.
By the 1970s various community-based historical groups were lobbying for the protection and restoration of the area and in 1988 the Department of Environment, Conservation and Tourism, through the National Parks and Wildlife Service, took over the management of the former fort. In 1990 Fort Lytton was declared an Historic National Park, and during the last decade of the 20th century the site was recorded and the framework of the fort restored. In 1994 minor preliminary works in anticipation of the stabilisation of some concrete roofs and retaining walls, and the restoration of existing drainage pipes, was undertaken. The bitumen roofs over the Engine Room and casemates 1 and 2 were resurfaced. In 1996 a restored hydro-pneumatic gun was installed in gun pit No. 1. A military museum has been established in a former artillery store, and various military history groups conduct annual pageants at the fort, reminiscent of the Queensland militia's annual Easter encampments. In 1999, Fort Lytton National Park was extended with the incorporation of part of the adjacent former Lytton Quarantine Station. The buildings on this site have been occupied and managed by the Queensland Parks and Wildlife Service since 1988, and serve as the administration centre for Fort Lytton National Park.
Besides its defence and communications functions, the Lytton battery also acquired a ceremonial role. In May 1901 it was the venue for His Royal Highness, the Duke of York, to present medals to Lytton-trained troops who had served in the South African War [1899-1902]. In 1963 a 21 gun salute from the Lytton guns welcomed Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth II in the Britannia as she sailed up the Brisbane River. In April 1991 the muzzle-loading cannon at the fort were fired to greet soldiers returning from the Gulf War.
Source: Queensland Heritage Register.
Requires strength, technique and endurance.
Woot!- I made the Wheaties box!
FGR - And the Winner is...portraying winners/wins. What better represents a winner than making the Wheaties box!
Please support on Lego Ideas: ideas.lego.com/projects/0b565e40-80a4-46bb-bf10-9bbcc26b40e5
This build is specifically inspired by the novel "Ilse Witch", the first in a trilogy aptly entitled "The Voyage of the Jerle Shannara". These books are part of Terry Brook's classic "Shannara" series of novels (some of which were adapted into a popular TV series as well) - this was the series that proved fantasy could be accessible and commercially successful with mainstream audiences after the breakout success of Tolkien's Middle Earth novels. Unlike many other fantasy series, it's set in a world which sees substantial technological and magical innovation over the course of 32 novels and thousands of years.
The Jerle Shannara is the fastest and most advanced airship ever built, and her crew of the Jerle Shannara are voyaging west from the Elven capital city of Arborlon, across the Blue Divide, to the uncharted continent of Parkasia, in search of the lost Blue Elfstones, guided only by a mysterious map washed ashore with a lost prince, their last known user.
The crew have been selected from across the many races of the Four Lands, for their unique talents.
• From Paranor, the Druid's Keep, comes one-armed Walker Boh, the last of the druid order.
• From the Southlands, comes highlander Quentin Leah, heir to the mysterious Sword of Leah, and his childhood friend Bek Rowe.
• From the Eastlands, comes the dwarf woodsman Panax, and the mysterious shapeshifter Truhls Rohk.
• From the Westland elves, come Prince Ahren Elessedil, Captain Ard Patrinell of the Home Guard, the tracker Tamis.
• From the Wing Hove, the elf Hunter Predd and his mighty roc, Obsidian.
• From the Rover communities of the Westlands, the ship's captain Redden "Big Red" Alt Mer, his twin sister Rue "Little Red" Meridian, and the mysterious seer Ryer Ord Star.
The airships of the Four Lands are solar-powered and require active thrust to stay aloft. The sails, called "light sheaths", absorb solar energy, which is channeled through special rigging, the "radian draws", into the parse tubes which house the diapson crystals. It is these crystals which store the solar energy and distribute it through the ship's thrusters.
The Jerle Shannara comes with many play features, making it not only a display piece for adult collectors, but also a fun playset!
• The captain's cabin in the front of the ship has been converted into two smaller cabins with folding bunks to account for the unusual crew. Captain "Big Red" shares the port cabin with Prince Ahren Elessedil, and his sister, "Little Red", shares the starboard cabin with Ryer Ord Star. A privacy curtain separates the two cabins on the aft side of the mast, and sliding panels allow access to a shared washroom in the fore of the cabin.
• A removable platform between the main hull and port pontoon provides landing space for Obsidian to roost between scouting flights.
• Other crew members can wrap themselves in their cloaks and sleep in the pontoons.
• The ship is armed with a complement of ballistae to defend against hostile airships, and the ramps may be lowered to send over a boarding party.
• The galley occupies the center of the ship and features a long table where the crew can dine together, or study their maps and charts.
• The storage room in the aft of the ship has fresh water, food, the armory, and spare parts to make repairs on the long voyage.
• The rope ladder may be raised and lowered to take on supplies and passengers.
• The ship's wheel in the pilot box really controls the thrusters on either side of the ship's rudder, and the capstan hauls up the dual anchors!
• The masts are grippable so crew members can climb up into the rigging.
• Obsidian's wings fold and unfold realistically to move between flying and roosting positions.
Set consists of approximately 2700pcs, including 12 minifigures. The ship is quite spacious and this number of figures does not feel crowded - as you can see from the renderings, they spread out quite nicely.
March Point. Padilla Bay/Fidalgo Bay.
"The Washington population of the Black Oystercatcher is estimated to be roughly 400 birds. This number is probably not significantly different from the historical population, as these birds require fairly specialized habitat, which is not evenly distributed. Oystercatchers are highly vulnerable to human disturbance, oil spills, and pollution of the intertidal zone. Numbers of Black Oystercatchers on the outer coast may be higher than in the past, in part due to decreased human disturbance resulting from lighthouse automation. Numbers in inland areas, however, have declined in response to increased human activity. The Northern Pacific Coast Regional Shorebird Management Plan has identified the Black Oystercatcher as a regional species of high concern."
"The Black Oystercatcher is restricted in its range, never straying far from shores, in particular favoring rocky shorelines. It has been suggested that this bird is seen mostly on coastal stretches which have some quieter embayments, such as jetty protected areas. It forages in the intertidal zone, feeding on marine invertebrates, particularly molluscs such as mussels, limpets and chitons. It will also take crabs, isopods and barnacles. It hunts through the intertidal area, searching for food visually, often so close to the water's edge it has to fly up to avoid crashing surf. It uses its strong bill to dislodge food and pry shells open."
Brooklyn Bridge in New York
As a reminder, keep in mind that this picture is available only for non-commercial use and that visible attribution is required. If you'd like to use this photo outside these terms, please contact me ahead of time to arrange for a paid license.
The sand dunes of Great Sand Dunes National Park and the beautiful Sangre de Cristo Mountains behind them are a common target for landscape photographers. To compress the dunes against the mountains requires a long distance perspective and if the dunes are to be large in the frame, a long telephoto focal length must be used. Fortunately, the road leading into GSDNP provides easy access to the that long distance perspective and sharp telephoto lenses are readily available. Unfortunately, there are other issues to be dealt with.
Haze (including that caused by smoke, dust and air pollution) kills contrast and heat waves are potentially seriously damaging to image sharpness.
The haze/air clarity problem is nearly always at least somewhat of an issue when shooting from this distance and the best way to combat haze during the capture is to use a circular polarizer filter. This filter will not completely eliminate the haze, but it definitely helps. The best way to reduce haze after the shot is by increasing contrast. Both were used for this photo.
Far harder to control is the major issue I dealt with at this time of day in GSDNP and that is heat waves. Aside from moving closer (which changes the composition) or choosing another time of the day (or another day completely) to shoot, there is little that can be done about heat waves. Heat waves can be problematic at even short distances (and complicate outdoor comparison testing of lenses).
Being at this location at the right time and day is ideal and both air clarity and heat wave issues can be mostly avoided with the right timing. Locals of course have that timing luxury, but I had only half of a day to spend at this location. I was intent on maximizing my time and embracing what I found.
Many prefer to shoot this location early and late in the day (and I photographed until dark), but I found the dune shadows to be harsh at this time and also-liked the more-subtle tonation of mid-afternoon lighting on the dunes. In this case, I was able to run bands of color through the frame horizontally with the first snow of the season forming the top non-sky layer. Even though I was using the extraordinarily sharp Canon EF 200-400mm f/4L IS USM Lens and a circular polarizer filter, the end result has a soft painterly effect (visible at full resolution) thanks to the heat waves.
Gear Used:
Canon EOS 5D Mark III
Canon EF 200-400mm f/4L IS USM Lens
Gitzo GT3542LS Systematic Carbon Fiber Tripod
Arca-Swiss Monoball Z1 Ball Head
Canon 52mm Drop-In Circular Polarizer Filter
Camera and Lens Settings:
282mm f/11.0 1/60s ISO 100 5760 x 3840px
Get more gear and photo information at www.the-digital-picture.com/
#photography #landscapephotography #canon5dmarkiii #canon sand #sanddunes #greatsanddunesnationalpark #sangredecristomountains #heatwaves #haze #snowcappedmountains
Shot on iPhone 7 Plus.
For Christmas, my mother-in-law took us all to Matilda the musical. It was great. And this is my daughter Meg doing to required pose in the foyer of the theatre.
Sweet Chestnut is a favourite tree for coppicing in traditionally managed English woodlands. It is usually cut at the base every 12 years or so, and on every rotation a healthy tree will continue to produce a crop of thick sturdy and straight poles.
Coppiced chestnut is tough, durable and weather proof, containing natural tannins. Because of that it has been used for centuries to make fencing posts and stakes and in all kinds of outdoor contsruction work. If smaller fencing rails are required it splits nice and evenly down the grain and you can get several rails out of a single pole. I have actually watched this being done by skilled woodland craftsmen using a simple iron billhook.
the orange life jacket just caught my eye for some reason, seemed at contrast with the still, shallow, blue waters & white sand.
This image shows the Forster - Tuncurry ferry approaching the ramp in Tuncurry, NSW - mid 1950s. The launch guiding the punt is the Monterey built by Alf Jahnsen.
A recent publication written by Chris Borough covering the Forster Ferry Service has been published by the Great Lakes Historical Society, Tuncurry
www.flickr.com/photos/glmrsnsw/27134338901/in/album-72157...
Prior to the construction of a bridge in July 1959, crossing Cape Hawke Harbour at the mouth of Wallis Lake required vehicles to use the punt service that operated between Tuncurry and Forster. Most vehicular punts in NSW operated independently using cables. The Forster-Tuncurry punts, however, were close-coupled to a motor launch as shifting sandbanks had to be negotiated to make the crossing between the two towns.
The first of three punts that were used to provide the service commenced operation in late 1924 and remained in continuous service for nine years. This small punt was replaced in 1933 with a larger punt that was widened by two feet in 1935. The original was retained as a backup until a third and still larger punt was introduced in late 1938. That third punt began operation on Christmas Eve 1938 with the punt that was widened in 1935 kept in reserve. Both remained in service until the opening of the Forster – Tuncurry bridge.
Prior to 1924, regular ferry services operated, but only for passengers. The first commenced operation by July 1890 with an open rowing boat conveying passengers (and a sulky if needed). The demand for a proper ferry service was strong. In 1905 a petition from Forster residents asked the Government to establish an oil-launch ferry service between Tuncurry and Forster, instead of the boat ferry, which was totally inadequate…(SMH Friday 10 November 1905).
By 1907, travellers from Bungwahl could pick up the ferry service provided by an oil launch at the southern edge of Wallis Lake (Charlotte Bay), that would drop them either at Forster or Tuncurry (SMH 26th October 1907). A regular passenger ferry service was also being operated that year by an oil launch running between Forster and Tuncurry, conveying passengers for a 1d return fare (SMH 26th Oct 1907).
Horses, however, still had to be swum across (Maitland Daily Mercury 4th May 1909) . We left our horses and vehicles at Tuncurry and crossed over to Forster in the ferry. During the day the rest of the party employed themselves in swimming the horses across the river and floating the buggies over in boats, and had quite an exciting and arduous time. One of Mr. Bramble's horses was too scared to swim, and was nearly drowned. One of the boats, with a sulky on board, got aground, and took some time to get off.
It was not until February 1924 that Manning Shire Council granted permission for Charlie Blows to provide and operate a combined private passenger and car punt service between Tuncurry and Forster (SMH 22nd Feb 1924). Blows undertook to build and maintain the approaches, as well as provide a vehicular ferry, capable of carrying three and a half to four tons (SMH 22 Feb 1924). Blows’ punt service began operations in November 1924 - Mr. Chas. Blows has installed a new vehicular ferry between Tuncurry and Forster. As a consequence, motor cars are now a common sight at Forster (Dungog Chronicle 18 November 1924.)
Howard (1995) records that Blows had Tuncurry boat-builder, Dave Williams build both a small punt and a launch (commonly, but somewhat misleadingly, termed a “tow” launch) to propel same. No details of the punt and its construction have been located but a newspaper report appears to confirm that it was constructed specifically for the operation. This is a direct road to Newcastle by car, and is considerably shorter than any other road from Forster to Sydney. It will be largely used for through traffic when the vehicle ferry, which has been sanctioned and is now being constructed, is running between Tuncurry and Forster across Wallamba River (SMH 15th April 1924).
With a load capacity of around 4 tons, it is estimated that Blows’ punt was 22 feet in length. It was able to transport one large car or two very small cars, end to end. The launch, originally named the Glen, was fitted with a 7 h.p. Kelvin engine; she was quickly re-named the Kelvin Glen by locals and this became her registered name.
Although the passenger service was subsidised by the Local Government Department, it was an expensive exercise to have a vehicle conveyed on the privately owned punt. Foot passengers were able to travel for free, however, for a one-way trip cars were charged 2/6, lorries 4/-, and horse-drawn vehicles 1/6. To put these fares in context, the average weekly wage in 1930 was £7 per week making a return journey by car of 5/- one fifth of a day’s wages. Any additional trips incurred fares for foot passengers, with one visitor complaining that he was forced to pay 1/- to get the “free” ferry from Tuncurry to take him the extra 150 yards from the terminus at Forster to the local hotel.
Prior to 1930, shipping was generally able to navigate key areas within Cape Hawke Harbour and the punt was usually able to cross readily between the two towns. In 1930, however, the NSW Government decided to remove the sand-pumping dredge “Forster” from the district after some thirty years of continuous service. Despite numerous representations, there was no sand-pumping between 1930 and 1938.
By 1930 there had already been general recognition that the private vehicular ferry service was unduly limited in terms of capacity and cost. In 1931 The Maitland Daily Mercury (23 February) reported: One of the biggest demonstrations of public protest in the history of Cape Hawke was witnessed last Saturday night at the Forster Hall when a most representative gathering assembled to express its disapproval of the manner in which the Stroud and Manning Shire Councils are dilly dallying with the question of the Forster Tuncurry Ferry Service. The meeting had been convened by the Progress Associations of Forster and Tuncurry to voice their dissatisfaction of both Councils, in not carrying into vogue the dictum put forth by the Minister for Local Government in July last, that the vehicular ferry that serves the two towns should be absolutely free and that the existing charges be abolished.
A visitor to Tuncurry recalled his experience (Dungog Chronicle: 9 February 1932) “In the morning we crossed the quarter mile or so of water round the sandbanks to Forster. The punt is a two-car one, and is towed over by C. Blows, who runs the free ferry for foot passengers. It cost 2/6 each way for the car, and thereby hangs a confession. I forgot to pay when going back, and Charlie Blows did not remind me.”
After years of wrangling between the Stroud and Manning Shire Councils and the Transport Commission (formerly the Main Roads Board and by the end of 1932 the Main Roads Department), it was decided to terminate the private ferry service and have a replacement punt provided by Manning Shire Council. A suggestion in 1932 to lengthen Blows’ punt was not followed up and before the year was out it was found that a thirty to forty year old punt that had been operating on the Manning River was available to be relocated. The cost of having the punt transported to Forster and its operation were to be shared by the three statutory bodies. Tenders to provide a launch and operate the new punt service were called and on June 30th 1933 the successful tenderer, Frederick Parsons was announced. Fred’s bid of £375/annum was the lowest. Because the new punt was some ten feet longer than the Blows’ punt (32 ft vs approx. 22 ft), and it could carry three small cars or two large cars and had a load capacity of 6 tons, a more powerful launch was required.
Blows’ contract with the original punt was extended until 17th October 1933 when Parsons finally began operations with his new launch and the council supplied punt (Howard 2009). The modern and powerful launch - the Pacific was built by Frank Avery. As reported (Dungog Chronicle 7 November 1933). The new ferry service which is now in the control of Mr. Fred Parsons has had its baptism; and the little difficulties that might be expected at the outset with the most experienced have been surmounted. Mr. Parsons' new launch has a length of 28 feet, a beam of 8 feet and a depth of 3 feet moulded. All timbers and stringers are of spotted gum, with beech planking. The launch is copper fastened and is fitted with water tight bulk heads according to the regulations of the Navigation Department. It is fitted with an 18h.p. Lister-Diesel engine and is a great credit to the builder, Mr Frank Avery, of Tuncurry. The most pleasing aspect of the new service, of course, is the substantial reduction in the charges for cars and other vehicles, as compared with the former contract. Previously, to convey a car across from Forster to Tuncurry cost 2/6; the new charge is 1/-. The new rate has already been responsible for increased traffic, as many people hesitated to come across and back when it involved a toll of 5/-.
In 1935 the Department of Main Roads and the two Councils involved in providing the service agreed to have the punt widened by 2ft to enable cars to be parked side by side and thus allow four vehicles to be carried at one time. Well respected boat-builder, Henry Miles, was contracted to do the job. As reported in the Dungog Chronicle Tuesday 26 November 1935; There will be general jubilation at the news that the ferry which plies, between Forster and Tuncurry is to be enlarged, says the Taree Times. Under a triple authority (Main Roads Board, Manning and Stroud Shires) it takes time to finalise things like this, but it has been done. The ferry is to be widened to take four cars, two abreast. The work has been entrusted to that well-known and expert shipbuilder, Mr. Harry [Henry] Miles, of Forster, and when he finishes with it there will be no complaints, for Mr. Miles does his work one way — thoroughly. It is intended to split the ferry from end to end and put in another 2ft., which will ensure that the ferry will then accommodate two of the biggest cars abreast, which was not possible in the past. It is expected that the ferry will go on the slip on Thursday next, and be off in two or three weeks. In the meantime traffic will be maintained as usual, Mr. Charlie Blows' punt having been engaged for the purpose.
A year later and a minor crisis: Blow’s old punt that was put into service as a temporary measure while the new punt was being overhauled, sank. The Dungog Chronicle (Tuesday 17 November 1936) reported: - Vehicular traffic between Tuncurry and Forster was held up from about 1 p.m. on Wednesday afternoon until 4 on Thursday afternoon. The new contract for this service is to commence at the beginning of December, and the ferry in general use was put on Mr. Henry Miles' slip on Tuesday to undergo the usual overhaul before commencing on the new contract. The old punt with which Mr. Charlie Blows inaugurated the service [in 1924] was requisitioned and started in the service about 2 on Tuesday afternoon. All went well until about 1 p.m. on Wednesday, while the ferry was tied up on the Tuncurry side, a Chev. lorry, loaded with skimmed milk from the Tuncurry butter factory, boarded the ferry. At the same time the driver of a car wanted to cross and the ferry man asked the man in charge of the lorry to move it over to the side a little more than it was. When this was done one corner of the punt developed a list, which in turn gave the lorry, and its contents, a list, with the result that the corner of the punt went under water and quickly submerged. The lorry was also under water. The services of another lorry were engaged to pull it out. Later in the day the ferry was raised and removed to Mr. Miles' slip, for examination and repairs if necessary . A grainy photograph of the accident scene that appeared in the Sydney Morning Herald (4 November 1936) suggests that the small punt may have needed more than just minor repairs.
By early 1937, Manning Shire Council was well aware of public concerns with the safety of the service (Dungog Chronicle Friday 21 May 1937). Council was advised that in October 1936 the punt had grounded on a sand bank and been carried quite some distance after it was re-floated; the anchor being unable to hold. At the time, the Press had reported that the method of transport was entirely out of date and that it had caused a wave of fear amongst the public.
The Council was well aware that it’s widened 32ft long punt simply couldn't cope with the sheer volume of traffic that was presenting during the annual holiday season and had thus reached its use-by date. As a result, a formal proposal was made to the Department of Main Roads for the purchase of an additional 4-car punt to facilitate the provision of a permanent two punt service; the Department formally declined the proposal on 2 September 1937. (SMH 14 January 1938). Council subsequently decided to try and rent or buy a replacement punt and in October 1937 an advertisement that sought the lease of a punt for three months over the summer season appeared in the press (Newcastle Morning Herald Saturday 23 October 1937). Unable to rent or buy a replacement punt, however, the decision was made to have a replacement built. Initial plans for a new punt were submitted to the DMR on 23rd November 1937 (SMH 14 January 1938).
With the wheels of the bureaucracy slowly turning, matters regarding the punt service went from bad to worse. The punt that had commenced operation in 1933 and was widened by Henry Miles in 1935, sunk spectacularly on 5th January 1938. The report from the Dungog Chronicle of Tuesday 11 January 1938 described the fact that a drowning fatality was avoided, as a miracle! On the punt was Joe Fazio’s bus with twelve passengers aboard, a sedan car with five passengers and a truck. As soon as the punt took off from the wharf at around 8 am the nose of the punt dipped and it seemed likely that the punt would capsize. The passengers in the car climbed onto the roof of the bus and finally all passengers escaped via the ferry to shore. This event created an outcry for the replacement of the existing ferry with a larger and more dependable ferry service.
The public relations debacle appears to have jolted the bureaucrats into action and tenders for the construction of a 40 foot punt were called in 1938 (SMH Friday 4 March 1938). It took, however, until September that year for the Councils to secure the services of Frank Avery to supervise the construction of a new punt using day labour (Dungog Chronicle: Friday 16 September 1938). The new service was launched on 24th December 1938, just in time for the holiday season (Dungog Chronicle Tuesday 24 January 1939).
Although the load limit for the new punt was raised to ten tons in 1939, officially it was still only able to handle four cars – a point made clearly by the NRMA (The Maitland Daily Mercury Friday 10 February 1939): “An N.R.M.A. country inspector who recently travelled over the coastal route from Bulahdelah to Taree by way of Forster and Tuncurry. Commenting on the new punt between Forster and Tuncurry, the Association says that there is little improvement on the old vehicle. The new vessel accommodates four cars and is towed by a motor launch. Thus the journey from one side of the lake to the other takes just as long now as when the old punt was operating.”.
The four car service was propelled by the Pacific until 1st July 1940 when Wylie Gregory won the tender to provide the service. He arranged for Forster boatbuilder, Dave Williams to build a heavy-duty low-line boat - the Britannia - or alternatively spelled Brittania (Howard 1995). The war years, however, soon started to impact on Wylie’s operations. In August 1941 he advised Manning Shire Council that he would terminate his contract in view of decreased traffic owing to petrol rationing. Negotiations followed that resulted in Wylie continuing the operation under changed conditions.
On 1st June 1947 the tender for the vehicle ferry service was won by H.M. Cooke of Forster and it appears that he purchased the Brittania from Gregory, On 15th June 1949 the contract was won by C.A. Blows and Sons. The Brittania was purchased from Cooke, but almost immediately the firm contracted Alf Jahnsen and Leo Royan to build a new launch, the Monterey - named after the local cafe ran by Charlie Blows. In the 1950s the availability of two launches and two punts allowed considerable flexibility for the management of the service. Although the punt that was widened in 1935 was initially only retained as a back-up, with the availability of a second launch, sanity eventually prevailed and the old punt was brought out of mothballs each summer so that a two punt service could be provided during the peak holiday season.
Despite the last punt (built in 1938) being described as only having a capacity to carry four cars, it is commonly believed to have had a capacity to convey six cars. Indeed there are photos in Philip Howard's book showing six cars squeezed onto the punt with vehicles partly standing on the rear ramp with the rear gates open. Graham Nicholson (personal communication) recalls many occasions when six vehicles were squeezed onto the ferry and the front and rear gates "closed" accordingly – possibly not by the book, but effective!
Punt operations ceased with the opening of the Forster-Tuncurry bridge on July 18th 1959. So ended the service once memorably described: "It must be the most antedated, most unreliable and unsafe method of crossing a river anywhere in Australia." (SMH Friday 5 November 1954)
Image Source - Image Source - Steve Bolin Collection
References - Howard, P. (1995). The ferrymen: the history of the Forster-Tuncurry passenger and vehicular ferry service from 1890 to 1959 - by Philip Howard.
More Forster Ferry images are contained in the ALBUM Forster - Tuncurry Ferry
Acknowledgements. Chris Borough and Ron Madden undertook the detailed research that was the basis for this contribution.
All Images in this photostream are Copyright - Great Lakes Manning River Shipping and/or their individual owners as may be stated above and may not be downloaded, reproduced, or used in any way without prior written approval.
GREAT LAKES MANNING RIVER SHIPPING, NSW - Flickr Group --> Alphabetical Boat Index --> Boat builders Index --> Tags List
Heracles was required by Eurystheus, as tenth labor, to travel to Erytheia, in order to obtain the Cattle of Geryon (Γηρυόνου βόες). On the amphora main body, the final fighting between the two main characters of this labor: and the triple Geryon.
Herakles, wearing the leonte (the Nemean lion skin) over a chitoniskos, and equipped with lance and a boeotian shield, attacks Geryon, the monstrous owner of a cattle of oxen consecrated to Apollo.
Geryon, described as a monster with three bodies, faces Herakles holding lances and protecting his triple body with crested helmets and shields decorated by gorgoneion. His name is painted to left of one of the giant’s faces: retr., Γερυο[ν]. Eurytion, the guardian of the oxen, killed by Herakles, lies naked at the hero's feet; the blood flows copiously from wounds opened in his body. To left, Athena, with aegis and fully armed, supports his protect raising her spear.
On the neck, Dionysos, with beard and mustache, is seated on a stool. The god wears a himation and a embroidered chiton; he hold a shot of ivy in his right hand, and a drinking horn with the other one. A wreath of ivy leafs crowns his head.
CAV / CAVI @ www.beazley.ox.ac.uk
Source: Museum notice
Attic black figured amphora
Height : 26 cm. ; Diam. : 14,00 cm.
Attic white ground black-figured amphora
Attibuted to “The Class of the Cabinet des Medailles 218" by Beazley
From Cerveteri
520- 510 BC
Paris, Musée du Louvre, F 115
Taken at Martin Nature Park in Oklahoma City.
A photo meetup hosted by Myke (mykeitphotography) with his @FrameXFrame group. The idea was to celebrate Spring as it had been warm leading up to the meetup, but on the day of the temperature plunged some 20 degrees.
From 1859, boys were trained to become Merchant Navy officers aboard a 'school ship' based in the River Mersey: the 'HMS Conway', a frigate donated by the Admiralty, which had been serving coastguard duties at Devonport. The scheme was an immediate success, requiring a larger vessel so, in 1861, the Admiralty loaned the 51-gun frigate 'HMS Winchester', which swapped names with the 'Conway'. By 1876 an even larger ship was required, so the 'HMS Nile', a 1839-built, 92-gun battleship which had served in the Baltic during the Crimean War and Western Atlantic during the American Civil War, became the third 'HMS Conway'.
Routinely moored off Rock Ferry for over 80 years, the 'Conway' was moved to Anglesey in 1941 to avoid wartime bombing of the Mersey docks, and didn't immediately return after the war, instead expanding into shore-based facilities at Plas Newydd from 1949.
Returning to Liverpool for a refit in 1953, the ship grounded in the Menai Strait, breaking her back, and was finally broken up after a catastrophic fire in 1956. From then until the closure of the school in 1974, 'HMS Conway' was a shore establishment, the "Stone Frigate" at Plas Newydd.
The 'Conway's two 5-tonne Admiralty pattern anchors were recovered in 1968, and stood beside the training school's parade ground until this one was donated to the Merseyside Maritime Museum in 1980. The other stands on Victoria Dock, Caernarfon, outside the former Maritime Museum.
Surprisingly, the plaque on the anchor doesn't mention that three vessels bore the name in succession; the implication is that the HMS Nile was launched in 1839 as the Conway.
Amongst other residential, retail and tourism-related developments (including the Tate Liverpool gallery of modern/contemporary art), the Merseyside Maritime Museum occupies part of Albert Dock, designed by Jesse Hartley and Philip Hardwick and opened in 1846 as the world's first fireproof warehouse complex. Note the spiraling warehouse chute behind the anchor.
Also revolutionary in having been designed for the loading/unloading of sailing ships of up to 1,000 t directly from/to warehouses, the Albert Dock became favoured for valuable but bulky cargoes such as tea, ivory and sugar, for its inherent security; at one point, over 90% of Liverpool's imported Chinese silk passed through the Dock. Yet this very optimisation began a decline within only 20 years of opening, as trade shifted to larger steamships unable use the narrow dock entrances and needed more quayside than Albert Dock offered. Though continuing to contribute to the port's dock system, the Albert Dock's lack of prominence was such that 1940s war damage wasn't repaired and it fell into dereliction, until massive redevelopment work in the 1980s turned it into a leading tourist attraction at the heart of Liverpool's UNESCO-designated World Heritage 'Maritime Mercantile City', largely Grade I Listed.
In the background is the Piermaster's House, built in 1852 to accommodate the person responsible for the safety of vessels entering the dock from the tidal river. Behind that is the distinctive stepped tower of the Woodside air ventilation station of the Mersey Tunnel (the Queensway Tunnel, opened 1934), 1¼ km away in Birkenhead on the far side of the river.
Ruaha, Tanzania
This baby elephant was attempting to throw sand over its back , but missed! It'll learn in time.
A magnificent young blond in a flower print dress strolls carelessly along with a freshly lit Marlboro 100s cigarette which she needs to keep her body supplied with the nicotine it demands at regular intervals in order to function without the unbearable cravings which she first noticed when she began smoking socially with friends, and then realized that she couldn't stop, and that the habit had taken complete hold of her, rendering her powerless against it and unable to dictate when she smokes. She is departing a road-race which the young smoker attended, and which she might have actually participated in just 5 or 6 years ago before she became addicted to cigarettes and lost the lung capacity required to maintain extended aerobic exercise. Her terrific shape is now the produce of sustaining herself on the tar and nicotine which her elegant all-white cigarette provides, not running long distances.