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The jubilee slogs up the 1/75 of shap with a 12 coach Cumbrian Mountain Express, heading for Carlisle. A reminder of days of steam on shap under British Railways. Seen here at salterwath.
Arriva Trains Wales Class 158 Express Sprinter 158832 slogs up the bank towards Cardiff Central with ECS.
5029 slogs up the incline at Horton- in - Ribblesdale working a Leeds - Carlisle rail tour, well remember 5029 not steaming very well on this day, so much so managed to get five shots in between Skipton and Horton.
Ian's on the road again, wearing different shoes again.
Or something.
Yes, have audit will travel is taking me back to the north west and head office (UK) in Warrington.
I wasn't keen to go, as I would be one of those being audited, rather than being the auditor.
So it goes.
Up even earlier than usual, Jools went swimming first thing, while I woke up and packed.
It was to be a bright if cold day, and the promise of actual snow once I reached Manchester, so that was something to look forward to. No?
Jools dropped me off on the prom so I could have a walk, take some snaps before picking up the car.
It was cold.
Not Canada cold, clearly.
Minus three. And too cold to linger to watch the actual sunrise, so made do with snapping the reflected light of the hotels and a ferry coming into the harbour. I walked over Townwall Street, now cold to the bone, hoping the car hire place would be open on time.
It wasn't, but a couple of minutes later, a guy came to open up and let me inside where it was slightly warmer.
My old ruse of getting an automatic thus getting a larger car was ruined this time was I was given a Toyota Yaris. It struggled to get up Jubilee Way without the engine screaming. You'd better behave yourself for the next three days I told it.
Back home for breakfast, load the car and say goodbye to the cats. One last look, and I was off. The car had no sat nav, so had to use the phone.
Before going to the hotel, I was going to visit a former colleague who lives in Warrington, or nearly St Helens as I found out later, so programmed her address in, and off I went, along our street and towards the A2 and the long slog up to Dartford.
I connected my phone to charge, and straight away tunes from my Apple music store started playing. So, apart from the free U2 album it forced on all users, the rest was good if a little Skids and Velvet Underground heavy.
The miles were eaten up, even if I had to turn the music way up to drown the sound of the screaming engine.
Like all trips, I had something extra to sweeten the time away, and in this case it was a church. But not just any church, as you will see.
I watched a short documentary on Monday about Mary Queen of Scots, and remembered that she had been imprisoned and executed at Fotheringhay Castle in what is now Northamptonshire, and if I went over the Dartford Crossing, up the M11 to Cambridge, then were the A14 crossed the Great North Road, ten miles north was Fotheringhay.
So, I pressed on, under the river and into Essex, then along to the bottom of the M11, and north past Stanstead to Cambridge. Traffic wasn't bad, so I made good time, my phone telling me I would reach Fotheringhay at midday.
Turning off the A1, down narrow lanes, then the view to the church opens up, in what is possibly one of the finest vistas in all of England. St Mary and All Saints, 15th century and in its Perpendicular finest, it looks too good to be that old, but is.
Not only is the church mostly as it was, if plain inside, this was the parish church of the House of York, of several Kings including the final, Richard III.
This is real history.
I crossed over the narrow hump-back bridge that spanned the fast flowing, and nearly flooding, River Neane, into the village and parked outside the church. A set of grand gates lead off the main road to the northern porch, lined with fine trees, naked it being winter.
The tower seems over-large for the Nave and Chancel, it stands 116 feet tall, and is a chonker, the rest of the church seems small beside it, but the interior of the church is a large space, high to its vaulted roof.
I take shots, not as many as perhaps I should, but the church doesn't have centuries of memorials, but does have two House of York tombs, or mausoleums.
I had some time, so I thought I would visit any interesting church I might see before getting back on the A14.
That was the plan.
The road took me round Oundle, which had at least two interesting looking churches, but them being what you might call "urban", I passed both and carried on over the rolling hills of Northamptonshire, much hillier than you might have thought.
Just before the A14, I see a large tower, and a lane lead to the village of Titchmarsh.
Titchmarsh is the name of a very famous TV gardener over here in Britain, not sure if this is where he hails from.
The village itself is set along a long high street, lined with half-timbered houses, most thatched, which was very picturesque.
I parked up, screams from the primary school, out for lunch, filled the air. But I had eyes on the church.
Oddly, on the north side, the churchyard is marked by a haha, or half of one.
A ha?
Certainly not a ditch, but there was a grille in the wall to allow water to get out.
Access to the church was over a small bridge, the grand porch in front.
The door opened easily, and I saw first, lots of wall paintings. Not old, perhaps Victorian.
I set to work taking shots, using the compact to snap close ups of the windows.
In truth, not much of great interest, and I was aware from the radio there being talk of snow.
Better get going and head north.
Back outside, my phone tells me I should be in Warrington by four, my friend, Teresa, wouldn't be home until half past, so I could have another break on the way.
The sat nav took me back to the A14, and from there it is just a 60 mile drive to the bottom of the M6 and then the hike two hours north.
At least it was a sunny day, though clouds were building, and was it my imagination, or did it look like snow falling already?
No, it was snow. big, fat, wet flakes at first, not much to worry about, but I pressed on past Coventry to the toll road, I sopped for half an hour there, enough time to have a drink and some crisps, then back outside where darkness was falling, as well as more snow.
The M6 might have had its upgrade complete, but a trip on it is rarely without delays. And for me, an hour delayed just before Warrington due to a crash, so we inched along in near darkness.
Teresa lived the other side of Warrington, so I had to press on further north, then along other main roads, round a bonkers roundabout before entering the town. Roads were lined with two up/two downs, doors leading straight onto the pavement. Cozy and northern.
They have two dog-mountains, I'm not sure of the breed, but think of something like a St Bernard and go bigger. They had just been for a walk, were damp and happy to be inside, laying on the kitchen floor. Taking up all the kitchen floor.
We talked for an hour, then I received a call from a guy I was supposed to be meeting up with: heavy snow was falling, I should get there sooner than later. So, I said my goodbyes and programmed the route to the hotel. Sorry, resort. Golf resort.
16 miles.
Snow was falling heavy, not too bad on main roads back to the motorway, though traffic on that was only going 40, it was fast enough. But the final six miles was long a main road, but it was covered in snow, with more falling.
The the fuel warning light went on.
Ignore that, I just wanted to get to the hotel safe and have dinner. Not end up in a hedge.
The final mile was very scary, snow only an inch deep, but slippery. There was a gatehouse marking the entrance to the golf club, I turned in and parked in the first space I came to.
Phew.
I checked in, and the place is huge, swish, but full of golfers.
But it does a sideline in conferences, training centre and a hotel. It was full.
I checked in, walked to the room, which is huge, and very comfortable, dropped my bags and went to the bar for dinner of beer and burgers. The place was almost empty, I watched cricket live from South Africa while I ate and drank.
Would I be tempted by the cheeseboard?
I would, dear reader, I would.
To my room to watch the football and relax while snow fell outside.
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Another bike ride into the wilds and wolds of Northamptonshire. I set off from Huntingdon railway station, and after a sixteen mile slog into the wind I crossed the county boundary at Clopton, a church I visited three weeks ago. Now, the real bike ride could now begin. Resisting a revisit to the church, I turned off on a very lonely, narrow lane through the woodlands. The Cambs/Northants borderlands are often like this, remote and lonely, wooded and rolling, devoid of houses outside the villages and with only the rare car, horse or other cyclist. It reminds me of parts of France.
After a couple of miles I came to Titchmarsh, and its splendid church, a big church in a pretty stone village. The tower is enormous ('The finest church tower in England outside of Somerset' - FJ Allen) and there is no spire. The churchyard is surrounded by a haha, with a little bridge across the moat. The church was being prepared for a rock concert, with a stage built up under the tower and tables and chairs in the nave. Not a huge amount to see in any case, although I liked the memorial to a servant who saved his master's life by getting in the way of an assassin's knife, only to later drown in the Nene. As you'd expect in this part of the world, good stone capitals in the arcades, with stiffleaves you could cut yourself on as well as dripping fruit.
And then it was on past the IKEA warehouse ('the largest building in the British Isles') into the town of Thrapston.
Simon Knott, July 2017.
www.flickr.com/photos/norfolkodyssey/35483761652/in/photo...
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The Parish Church of St Mary the Virgin, standing in a prominent position on the higher ground to the North of the village, has been the centre of the Christian community in Titchmarsh for some 800 years.
The name of Tichmarsh (or the modern version Titchmarsh) seems to date from Anglo-Saxon times when a piece of land was granted to one Ticcea and became known as Ticcea’s marsh (Ticceanmersce, Tychemerche, etc).
The earliest records of the church date from 1240. It was from Tichmarsh that Viscount Lovell left his manor to fight with Richard III at Bosworth. Before that he had employed his Somerset mason to build what Pevsner described as “the noblest village tower outside Somerset”, on top of which in 1588 an Armada beacon was lit.
The church is remarkable for its magnificent tower, its long and lofty clerestory, its spacious chancel, and for its light and uncluttered interior. It also houses a collection of unique and interesting wall monuments, fine stained glass windows and a recently restored 1870 TC Lewis organ. (see separate links)
The building that you see today is not the first church to have existed on this site. The remains of a 12th century doorway in the chancel is the only relic of the Norman building, and the subsequent centuries have each made their distinctive architectural contribution. The building assumed its present appearance when, late in the 15th century, the tower, clerestory and porch were added, and the present perpendicular style windows were inserted. In the late 17th and early 18th century the Pickering family contributed a number of important memorials, including one to John Dryden the poet- laureate, who spent his childhood in Titchmarsh. In the 19th century a number of the windows had stained glass inserted, a vestry was added in the northwest corner, and much of the internal woodwork was replaced (including the pews, recently adapted to provide more mobile seating).
The focus of the church, both architecturally and spiritually, is the Altar. This is God’s table, at which the faithful share in the power of Christ’s Risen Life, by feeding on the Sacrament of his Body and Blood under the forms of bread and wine. The reredos of Caen stone and Derby alabaster (1866) depicts the Old Testament scenes of Melchizedek’s offering of bread and wine, and Abraham’s offering of his only son Isaac, illustrating different aspects of the eucharistic theme.
The semi-circular Norman arch to the south side is a visible reminder that Christian worship has been offered on this site for at least some eight centuries.
The two-level sedilia and the piscine are of the 13th century, as is also the arcading which opens into the north chapel (now occupied by the organ). The opening known as a hagioscope or squint, gave additional visual access from the north chapel to the High Altar. The low, pointed 13th century doorway to the north of the Altar probably led to a tomb or chantry adjoining the Chancel on the north side. Much of this work can be attributed to the patronage of the Lovel family, who were Lords of the Manor from about 1268 until 1485.
Piercing the north-west corner of the Chancel wall are the remains of the stairway which originally led to the Rood-loft.
Dimly discernible in the apex of the Chancel arch is a crowned head. Experts suggest that it most closely resembles Edward IV who died in 1483 when Francis 1st (and only) Viscount Lovel was Lord of the Manor. The last years of the reign of Edward IV covered a peaceful period, favourable to the rebuilding of a church. In 1486 Henry VII granted the Manor of Tichmarsh to Sir Charles Somerset when Francis Lord Lovel who had supported Richard III was deprived of his estates at the end of the War of the Roses. This is the Lovell, who as Richard III’s Chamberlain and friend, was lampooned in the contemporary rhyme:
‘The Cat, the Rat, and Lovell our dog
Rule all England under the Hog’.
The walls and windows of the chancel were much embellished in Victorian times. The stained glass in the chancel windows is all by Messrs. Hardman of Birmingham. The east window depicts Christ’s Nativity, Baptism, Crucifixion and Ascension, and several episodes from the life of the Blessed Virgin Mary, to whom the church is dedicated. The windows on the south side of the chancel depict various incidents from the New Testament, giving particular prominence to St Mary Magdalene and St Peter.
The reredos of Caen stone and Derby alabaster were completed.
The organ, a good example of the work of TC Lewis was installed and first used in 1870. (fully restored in 2016). We learn from the Parish Magazine that prior to the installation of the instrument, music for Devine service had been supplied by a barrel organ, the introduction of which in 1837 replaced the services of the eight singers who had occupied a musicians gallery under the tower, and sang very loud. Singing was also led by string and woodwind instruments until 1861.
According to the parish magazines, the paintings on the chancel walls were by Miss Agnes Saunders, who was sister-in-law to the Rev. F M Stopford, (rector 1861-1912). The fine limed oak chancel screen was the gift of Canon A M Luckock, (rector 1912-1962).
The North Chapel and Transept
This was largely rebuilt in the 14th century, and now houses many mural memorials to the Pickering family
Gilbert Pickering bought the manor of Tichmarsh from Charles Somerset’s grandson in 1553, and for more than two hundred years it remained in the possession of his descendants. When the direct line came to an end, the estates were acquired in 1778 by Thomas Powys, later the first Lord Lilford.
John Pickering married Susannah Dryden of Canons Ashby in 1609, and twenty-one years later, Susannah’s brother Erasmus married John’s cousin Mary Pickering. Of these unions were born two men well known in the highest circles of their day, the notorious Sir Gilbert Pickering (1613-1668) and the famous John Dryden the poet (1631-1700).
Sir Gilbert was a convinced Parliamentarian, and became Lord Chamberlain to Oliver Cromwell. John Dryden’s upbringing in Tichmarsh is mentioned in one of the memorials. This and another were painted by Sir Gilbert’s daughter, Elizabeth, who became the wife of John Creed.
A woman of talent with needle, pen and brush, Elizabeth Creed was responsible also for the wording of the altar tomb and wall angle memorials of the south aisle as well as the Dryden monument which has been moved to the north transept.
The South Aisle
Here we find Mrs Creed lamenting the death of her husband, a boon companion of Samuel Pepys, of their son Christ’s family. By ancient custom the Font stands near the main (west) door of the physical building, as a reminder that it is through Baptism that we enter Christ’s Church.
The West Window
The tracery of the tower window is 15th century, (extensively restored in 2016). In 1904 the west window was filled with stained glass, the gift of Rev’d F M Stopford to mark his 50th year in Holy Orders. It is a powerful representation of Christ’s Second Coming and the Day of Judgement, and approximately balances the episodes of Christ’s first Advent depicted in the east window. The same firm of artists, Messrs Hardman of Birmingham, was employed for the work, and it is interesting to notice how the passage of some forty years makes a considerable difference in style and taste between the tower window and their earlier work.
The Bells
The tower houses a fine ring of eight bells. All were recast and re-hung in 1913 as a memorial to Rev’d F M Stopford who died in office in 1912 having been rector for 51 years, and a chaplain to Queen Victoria, Edward VII and George V. Before recasting, the oldest bells dated from 1688, with additions in 1708 and 1781. The ring was completed in1885 by the gift of two bells in memory of Florence Augusta Stopford, the rector’s first wife. At the same time the present church clock, which strikes the hours and quarters, replaced the previous one made by George Eayre in 1745.
At the base of the tower are some interesting photographs of the re-hanging of the bells.
The South Porch
The original porch was a single storey structure, with window openings to east and west. The upper storey was added in1583 and housed the Pickering family pew, complete with fire place! After the death of the last Tichmarsh Pickerings the wall opening was blocked up. It was reopened in 1931, when Canon Luckock (rector 1912-1962) and his wife put in the present glass panel and hung the massive oak south door as a thanksgiving for their silver wedding. The seating around the walls of the porch is a reminder of its earlier function as a place of meeting.
The Exterior
The large and splendid tower is built in four stages, richly decorated with triple bands of quatrefoils in circles on the ground storey and similar bands on the second and third stages. The niches on the west face contain modern stone figures representing Moses and Aaron, the Blessed Virgin Mary and St. Peter, and the archangels Michael and Gabriel. The parish magazine for 1901 records that the rector’s wife paid for the replacements by breeding and selling black fantail pigeons.
The ‘crown’, ie. parapet and pinnacles above the fourth stage is considered by experts to date from about 1500. The will of one Thomas Gryndall, dated 1474, bequeaths money towards the building of the tower, probably completed except for the ‘crown’ in about 1480.
The prominence and size of the tower made it a significant landmark. In 1585 when the country prepared to resist the threatened invasion from Spain, the Lord Lieutenant, Sir Christopher Hatton of Kirby Hall, gave order for Beacons to be made in places accustomed and that ‘Tychemershe Beacon’ be sett upon Tychemershe church steeple
On the south wall of the tower is a painted sundial, dated 1798, and below it a disused clock face made in 1745. There are three scratch dials on the south side of the church – on the porch and on two of the buttresses.
The churchyard, which contains many good examples of local stonemasons’ work of the 18th and 19th centuries, is remarkable and perhaps unique in being bounded almost entirely by a ha-ha.
Acknowlegements: The Victoria County History of Northamptonshire; Northamptonshire by Niklaus Pevsner; and to various numbers of the Titchmarsh Parish Magazine; Titchmarsh Past and Present by Helen Belgion, published 1979
titchmarsh.info/church-of-st-mary-the-virgin/church-history/
Ian's on the road again, wearing different shoes again.
Or something.
Yes, have audit will travel is taking me back to the north west and head office (UK) in Warrington.
I wasn't keen to go, as I would be one of those being audited, rather than being the auditor.
So it goes.
Up even earlier than usual, Jools went swimming first thing, while I woke up and packed.
It was to be a bright if cold day, and the promise of actual snow once I reached Manchester, so that was something to look forward to. No?
Jools dropped me off on the prom so I could have a walk, take some snaps before picking up the car.
It was cold.
Not Canada cold, clearly.
Minus three. And too cold to linger to watch the actual sunrise, so made do with snapping the reflected light of the hotels and a ferry coming into the harbour. I walked over Townwall Street, now cold to the bone, hoping the car hire place would be open on time.
It wasn't, but a couple of minutes later, a guy came to open up and let me inside where it was slightly warmer.
My old ruse of getting an automatic thus getting a larger car was ruined this time was I was given a Toyota Yaris. It struggled to get up Jubilee Way without the engine screaming. You'd better behave yourself for the next three days I told it.
Back home for breakfast, load the car and say goodbye to the cats. One last look, and I was off. The car had no sat nav, so had to use the phone.
Before going to the hotel, I was going to visit a former colleague who lives in Warrington, or nearly St Helens as I found out later, so programmed her address in, and off I went, along our street and towards the A2 and the long slog up to Dartford.
I connected my phone to charge, and straight away tunes from my Apple music store started playing. So, apart from the free U2 album it forced on all users, the rest was good if a little Skids and Velvet Underground heavy.
The miles were eaten up, even if I had to turn the music way up to drown the sound of the screaming engine.
Like all trips, I had something extra to sweeten the time away, and in this case it was a church. But not just any church, as you will see.
I watched a short documentary on Monday about Mary Queen of Scots, and remembered that she had been imprisoned and executed at Fotheringhay Castle in what is now Northamptonshire, and if I went over the Dartford Crossing, up the M11 to Cambridge, then were the A14 crossed the Great North Road, ten miles north was Fotheringhay.
So, I pressed on, under the river and into Essex, then along to the bottom of the M11, and north past Stanstead to Cambridge. Traffic wasn't bad, so I made good time, my phone telling me I would reach Fotheringhay at midday.
Turning off the A1, down narrow lanes, then the view to the church opens up, in what is possibly one of the finest vistas in all of England. St Mary and All Saints, 15th century and in its Perpendicular finest, it looks too good to be that old, but is.
Not only is the church mostly as it was, if plain inside, this was the parish church of the House of York, of several Kings including the final, Richard III.
This is real history.
I crossed over the narrow hump-back bridge that spanned the fast flowing, and nearly flooding, River Neane, into the village and parked outside the church. A set of grand gates lead off the main road to the northern porch, lined with fine trees, naked it being winter.
The tower seems over-large for the Nave and Chancel, it stands 116 feet tall, and is a chonker, the rest of the church seems small beside it, but the interior of the church is a large space, high to its vaulted roof.
I take shots, not as many as perhaps I should, but the church doesn't have centuries of memorials, but does have two House of York tombs, or mausoleums.
Back outside, my phone tells me I should be in Warrington by four, my friend, Teresa, wouldn't be home until half past, so I could have another break on the way.
The sat nav took me back to the A14, and from there it is just a 60 mile drive to the bottom of the M6 and then the hike two hours north.
At least it was a sunny day, though clouds were building, and was it my imagination, or did it look like snow falling already?
No, it was snow. big, fat, wet flakes at first, not much to worry about, but I pressed on past Coventry to the toll road, I sopped for half an hour there, enough time to have a drink and some crisps, then back outside where darkness was falling, as well as more snow.
The M6 might have had its upgrade complete, but a trip on it is rarely without delays. And for me, an hour delayed just before Warrington due to a crash, so we inched along in near darkness.
Teresa lived the other side of Warrington, so I had to press on further north, then along other main roads, round a bonkers roundabout before entering the town. Roads were lined with two up/two downs, doors leading straight onto the pavement. Cozy and northern.
They have two dog-mountains, I'm not sure of the breed, but think of something like a St Bernard and go bigger. They had just been for a walk, were damp and happy to be inside, laying on the kitchen floor. Taking up all the kitchen floor.
We talked for an hour, then I received a call from a guy I was supposed to be meeting up with: heavy snow was falling, I should get there sooner than later. So, I said my goodbyes and programmed the route to the hotel. Sorry, resort. Golf resort.
16 miles.
Snow was falling heavy, not too bad on main roads back to the motorway, though traffic on that was only going 40, it was fast enough. But the final six miles was long a main road, but it was covered in snow, with more falling.
The the fuel warning light went on.
Ignore that, I just wanted to get to the hotel safe and have dinner. Not end up in a hedge.
The final mile was very scary, snow only an inch deep, but slippery. There was a gatehouse marking the entrance to the golf club, I turned in and parked in the first space I came to.
Phew.
I checked in, and the place is huge, swish, but full of golfers.
But it does a sideline in conferences, training centre and a hotel. It was full.
I checked in, walked to the room, which is huge, and very comfortable, dropped my bags and went to the bar for dinner of beer and burgers. The place was almost empty, I watched cricket live from South Africa while I ate and drank.
Would I be tempted by the cheeseboard?
I would, dear reader, I would.
To my room to watch the football and relax while snow fell outside.
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The Church of St Mary and All Saints, Fotheringhay is a parish church in the Church of England in Fotheringhay, Northamptonshire. It is noted for containing a mausoleum to leading members of the Yorkist dynasty of the Wars of the Roses.
The work on the present church was begun by Edward III who also built a college as a cloister on the church's southern side. After completion in around 1430, a parish church of similar style was added to the western end of the collegiate church with work beginning in 1434. A local mason, William Horwood was contracted to build the nave, porch, and tower of this church for £300 for the Duke of York.[2] It is the parish church which still remains.
The large present church is named in honour of St Mary and All Saints, and has a distinctive tall tower dominating the local skyline. The church is Perpendicular in style and although only the nave, aisles and octagonal tower remain of the original building it is still in the best style of its period.[3] The tower is 78 feet (24 metres) high to the battlements, and is 116 feet (35 metres) high to the pinnacles of the octagon.[4]
The church has been described by Simon Jenkins as
float[ing] on its hill above the River Nene, a galleon of Perpendicular on a sea of corn.
The college continued to 1547, when it was seized by the Crown, along with all remaining chantries and colleges. The chancel was pulled down immediately after the college was granted to John Dudley, 1st Duke of Northumberland, by King Edward VI.[6] A grammar school was founded in its place which lasted until 1859.
Nearby Fotheringhay Castle was the principal home of two Dukes of York. Edward of Norwich, 2nd Duke of York, who was killed at the Battle of Agincourt in 1415 was buried in the church. He had earlier established a college for a master and twelve chaplains at the location. Edward's burial provided the basis for the later adoption of the church as a mausoleum to the Yorkist dynasty. In 1476 the church witnessed one of the most elaborate ceremonies of Edward IV's reign – the re-interment of the bodies of the king's father Richard Plantagenet, 3rd Duke of York and his younger brother Edmund, Earl of Rutland, who had been buried in a humble tomb at Pontefract. Father and son fell at the Battle of Wakefield on 30 December 1460.
Thomas Whiting, Chester Herald, has left a detailed account of the events:
on 24 July [1476] the bodies were exhumed, that of the Duke, "garbed in an ermine furred mantle and cap of maintenance, covered with a cloth of gold" lay in state under a hearse blazing with candles, guarded by an angel of silver, bearing a crown of gold as a reminder that by right the Duke had been a king. On its journey, Richard, Duke of Gloucester, with other lords and officers of arms, all dressed in mourning, followed the funeral chariot, drawn by six horses, with trappings of black, charged with the arms of France and England and preceded by a knight bearing the banner of the ducal arms. Fotheringhay was reached on 29 July, where members of the college and other ecclesiastics went forth to meet the cortege. At the entrance to the churchyard, King Edward waited, together with the Duke of Clarence, the Marquis of Dorset, Earl Rivers, Lord Hastings and other noblemen. Upon its arrival the King 'made obeisance to the body right humbly and put his hand on the body and kissed it, crying all the time.' The procession moved into the church where two hearses were waiting, one in the choir for the body of the Duke and one in the Lady Chapel for that of the Earl of Rutland, and after the King had retired to his 'closet' and the princes and officers of arms had stationed themselves around the hearses, masses were sung and the King's chamberlain offered for him seven pieces of cloth of gold 'which were laid in a cross on the body.' The next day three masses were sung, the Bishop of Lincoln preached a 'very noble sermon' and offerings were made by the Duke of Gloucester and other lords, of 'The Duke of York's coat of arms, of his shield, his sword, his helmet and his coursers on which rode Lord Ferrers in full armour, holding in his hand an axe reversed.' When the funeral was over, the people were admitted into the church and it is said that before the coffins were placed in the vault which had been built under the chancel, five thousand persons came to receive the alms, while four times that number partook of the dinner, served partly in the castle and partly in the King's tents and pavilions. The menu included capons, cygnets, herons, rabbits and so many good things that the bills for it amounted to more than three hundred pounds.
In 1495 the body of Cecily Neville, Duchess of York was laid to rest beside that of her husband the Duke of York, as her will directed. She bequeathed to the College
a square canopy, crymson cloth of gold, a chasuble, and two tunicles, and three copes of blue velvet, bordered, with three albs, three mass books, three grails and seven processioners.
After the choir of the church was destroyed in the Reformation during the sixteenth century, Elizabeth I ordered the removal of the smashed York tombs and created the present monuments to the third Duke and his wife around the altar.
The birthday of Richard III is commemorated annually by the Richard III Society by the placing of white roses in the church.
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Church_of_St_Mary_and_All_Saints,_F...
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As any experienced pub quizzer will be able to tell you, Cambridgeshire shares borders with more other counties than any other English county, and one of the pleasures of exploring its churches by bike is to occasionally pop over a border and cherry-pick some of the best churches nearby. I had long wanted to visit Fotheringhay in Northamptonshire, and it is only ten miles west of Peterborough, and so I thought why not? I could also take in its near neighbours Nassington and Warmington, both noted as interesting churches.
Fotheringhay is a haunted place. It is haunted by noble birth and violent death, by its pivotal importance as a place in 15th Century English politics, and by its desolation in later centuries - not to mention by one significant event in the last couple of years.
The view of the church from the south across the River Nene is one of the most famous views of a church in England - there can be few books about churches which do not include it. The tower is a spectacular wedding cake, the square stage surmounted by an octagonal bell stage. This is not an unusual arrangement in the area of the Nene and Ouse Valleys, but nowhere is it on such a scale and with such intricacy as this.
The nave is also vast, a great length of flying buttresses running above each aisle, and walls of glass, great perpendicular windows designed to let in light and drive out superstition. What you cannot see from across the river is that, behind the big oak tree, the church has no chancel.
Inside, it is a square box full of light divided by great arcades that march resolutely eastwards towards a large blank wall. Heraldic shields stand aloof up in the arcades, and the one fabulous spot of colour is the great pulpit nestled in the south arcade, another sign that this building was designed to assert the doctrine of the Holy Catholic Church. This place swallows sound and magnifies light. It is thrilling, awe-inspiring. What happened here?
In the medieval period, Fotheringhay Castle was the powerbase of the House of York. The church was built as a result of a bequest by Edward III, who died in 1370. It was complete by the 1430s, with a college of priests and a large nave for the Catholic devotions of the people.
Over the next century it would house the tombs of, among others, Edward of Norwich, 2nd Duke of York and grandson of Edward III who was killed in 1415 at Agincourt, and Richard Plantaganet, 3rd Duke of York, who was killed in the Battle of Wakefield in 1460. It was Richard's claim to the throne of England which had led to the Wars of the Roses. His decapitated head was gleefully displayed on a pike above Micklegate Bar in York by the victorious Lancastrian forces. Also killed in the battle was Richard's 17 year old son Edmund.
But the Lancastrian delight was shortlived, for by the following year Richard's eldest son had become King as Edward IV. He immediately arranged for the translation of the bodies of his father and brother from their common grave at Pontefract back to Fotheringhay.
It was recorded that on 24 July the bodies were exhumed, that of the Duke garbed in an ermine furred mantle and cap of maintenance, covered with a cloth of gold lay in state under a hearse blazing with candles, guarded by an angel of silver, bearing a crown of gold as a reminder that by right the Duke had been a king.
On its journey, Richard, Duke of Gloucester, with other lords and officers of arms, all dressed in mourning, followed the funeral chariot, drawn by six horses, with trappings of black, charged with the arms of France and England and preceded by a knight bearing the banner of the ducal arms.
Fotheringhay was reached on 29 July, where members of the college and other ecclesiastics went forth to meet the cortege. At the entrance to the churchyard, King Edward waited, together with the Duke of Clarence, the Marquis of Dorset, Earl Rivers, Lord Hastings and other noblemen. Upon its arrival the King made obeisance to the body right humbly and put his hand on the body and kissed it, crying all the time.
The procession moved into the church where two hearses were waiting, one in the choir for the body of the Duke and one in the Lady Chapel for that of the Earl of Rutland, and after the King had retired to his closet and the princes and officers of arms had stationed themselves around the hearses, masses were sung and the King's chamberlain offered for him seven pieces of cloth of gold 'which were laid in a cross on the body.
The sorrowing Edward IV donated the great pulpit for the proclamation of the Catholic faith. And then in 1483 he died. He was succeeded as tradition required by his son, the 12 year old Edward V. But three months after his father's death the younger Edward was also dead, in mysterious circumstances. He was succeeded by his uncle, who had been born here in Fotheringhay in 1452, and who would reign, albeit briefly, as Richard III.
Was Richard III really the villain that history has made him out to be? Did he really murder his nephew to achieve the throne? Within two years he had also been killed at the Battle of Bosworth Field, and the Lancastrians were finally triumphant. Henry VII established the Tudor dynasty, and, as we all know, history is written by the victors, not by the losers.
But Fotheringhay had one more dramatic scene to set in English history before settling back into obscurity, and this time it involved the Tudors. In September 1586 a noble woman of middle years arrived at Fotheringhay Castle under special guard, and was imprisoned here. Her name was Mary, and she was on trial for treason.
It is clear today that most of the evidence was entirely fictional, but the powers of the day had good reason to fear Mary, for she had what appeared to many to be a legitimate claim to the English throne. She was the daughter of James V of Scotland, and had herself become Queen of Scotland at the age of just six weeks. She spent her childhood and youth in France while regents governed the nation in her stead, and she married Francis, the Dauphin of France, who became King of France in 1559. Briefly, Mary was both Queen of Scotland and Queen Consort of France, but in 1561 Francis died, and Mary returned to Scotland to govern her own country.
But there was a problem. Mary was a Catholic. Scotland had led the way in the English-speaking Reformation with a particularly firebrand form of Calvinism, and the protestant merchants of Edinburgh, Glasgow, Aberdeen and Dundee were aghast at the prospect of a Catholic monarch.
And there was a further problem. Scotland was currently at peace with its neighbour England, where Queen Elizabeth I had brought some stability to the troubled country. But the Catholic Church did not recognise Elizabeth as the rightful monarch of England, because it was considered that her father Henry VIII's divorce from his first wife Katherine of Aragon was invalid. As he had divorced Katherine to marry Elizabeth's mother Ann Boleyn, Catholics considered that the rightful line of succession had passed horizontally from Henry VIII to his deceased elder sister and then on to her descendants, the most senior of whom was Mary, Queen of Scotland.
Mary remarried in Scotland, but her husband was murdered, and she was forced to abdicate her throne in favour of their one year old baby. He would be brought up by protestant regents and advisors, and would reign Scotland as James VI. His protestant faith allowed the English crown to recognise the line's legitimate claims, and in 1603 James VI of Scotland became James I of England, the first monarch to govern both nations.
But that was all in the future. After her abdication, Mary fled south to seek the protection of her cousin Elizabeth. She spent most of the next 18 years in protective custody. A succession of plots and conspiracies implicated her, and finally on 8th February 1587, at the age of 44, Mary Queen of Scots was beheaded at Fotheringhay Castle.
One of her son James's first acts on ascending the English throne was to order that the castle where his mother had been shamefully imprisoned and executed be razed to the ground.
The chancel of Fotheringhay church and its College of Priests were already gone by then, demolished after the Reformation, leaving the York tombs exposed to the elements. it is said that Elizabeth herself, on a visit to Fotheringhay in 1566, insisted that they be brought back into the church.
Fotheringhay church settled back into obscurity. During the long 18th Century sleep of the Church of England it suffered neglect and disuse, but was restored well in the 19th Century. A chapel was designated for the memory of the York dynasty during the 20th Century, a sensitive issue for the Church of England which does not recognise prayers for the dead, but they can happen here in the Catholic tradition.
Today, the population of Fotheringhay cannot be much more than a hundred, an obscure backwater in remote north-east Northamptonshire, consisting of little more than its grand church set above the water meadows of the River Nene. But there was one more day in the public light to come.
In 2012, an archaeological dig in the centre of the city of Leicester, some 30 miles from here, uncovered a skeleton which had been buried in such a manner that it seemed it might be the dead King Richard III. Carbon dating and DNA matching proved that it was so. A controversy erupted about where the dead king might be reburied. Leicester Cathedral seemed the obvious place, although pompous claims were made by, among others, the MP for York, for him to be buried in York Minster. But there was also a case for the remains being returned here, to the quiet peace of Fotheringhay.
In the event reason held sway and Richard was reburied in Leicester, but Fotheringhay church, along with Leicester Cathedral, York Minster and Westminster Abbey, was one of four sites to host books of remembrance for Richard III.
In June 2015 I was surprised to find that the book here was still in use at the west end of the nave, and is still regularly signed by people. Perhaps they think it is the visitors book.
Simon Knott. June 2015.
www.flickr.com/photos/norfolkodyssey/19327047848/in/photo...
20172 & 20077 slog up the climb and passes the remains of the old station at Peak Forest,at this time the sidings in the background were used for wagon storage with loco,s being maintained and stabled at Buxton. Although always called Peak Forest in railway terms this location is actually Peak Dale,the village of Peak Forest being a few miles to the east. Aug 26th 1984.
66613 slogs up the bank from Altrincham to Hale on 21st May 2023 with 6Z93 11:55 Tunstead to Northampton Castle Yard.
Train no 36 slogs it out, up towards Rogerville, past the stockyards with a DQ/QR/DQ combination on Sunday 7th March 2004. This location is changing rapidly with industrial units and the junction off to the new Transport Hub nearby. Photo By Steve Bromley
It is every bit as cold as it looks -5 deg C as the two tanks slog their way up the line with a Santa Special.
The power lines have been carefully removed!
After a long slog of a journey to Norfolk we arrived nearly five hours after setting off, save for a pit stop at Peterborough services. As is always the case the journey is a stressful and hellish thing, but there is something inherently relaxing once you settle into the near sea mode.
We had a very late lunch and then, whilst Juliana was napping, headed for an ice-cream with her in safe hands during our absence. This evening, after dinner, we took the relatively short walk to the church. In my head I expected the plot to have been dug, but it's another thing entirely to see the mound of earth covered with green material.
It will be a nice place to visit, with a view of the sea, Beeston Bump in the distance and, if today was anything to go by, the bunnies. Tomorrow will be tough, but such is life (and death).
slogging up Talerddig, 7819, dvr Mike Elkins, dvr Micky Richards. Footplate inspector Arthur Cosnett 1989
Come slogarsi un dito per scattare a più non posso durante un viaggio di lavoro nelle città di Shenzen e Guangzhou nel sud della Cina
Sony A7SII
Nikkor 20mm 2.8 Ais
Come slogarsi un dito per scattare a più non posso durante un viaggio di lavoro nelle città di Shenzen e Guangzhou nel sud della Cina
Sony A7SII
Nikkor 20mm 2.8 Ais
On 18 September 2020, Class 66 no.66164 slogs up the 1 in 40 to Cwmbargoed on the last leg of its long journey from Earles Sidings, in the Hope Valley in Derbyshire. The work is rather easier than normal as it has only twelve wagons, compared with the usual eighteen on this service, or twenty-one on trains just coming from Margam.
Tuesday morning came awfully early, and I was still on a bit of a natural high from having spent the past 2 days up in the mountains with its moody/cloudy/misty/foggy weather. I came downstairs early, around 7:00, and ate breakfast alone for the last time at the Dragon’s Backbone Hostel. (I recall donating a book to their library, too; I forget which. Just a generic David Baldacci one, I think.)
Around 7:30, I started to set my way down the hill, enjoying the walk – going down is always much more relaxing than slogging my way up hill – and got to the main parking lot just below Dazhai with about 45 minutes to spare.
That 40 minute jaunt gave me time to reflect on the past two days. For the most part, I just thought it was a peaceful, beautiful, serene place, which I’d gladly visit again…probably in a different season (autumn, to give variety)…and that I wished I’d had a nicer (that is to say, any) sunrise or sunset. On Monday, I even woke up at 4:45 in the morning, but staring through the pitch black, not seeing stars, I knew that there wouldn’t be much of a sunrise to validate going an hour farther uphill above Tiantouzhai to the Music from Paradise viewpoint just to see….varying shades of gray. (The viewpoints here all have very interesting and flowery names. Ironically, at that one, there was a Chinese guy playing saxophone. If anyone wants to know what they’ll hear when they get to paradise…evidently, Simon & Garfunkel’s “Parsley Sage Rosemary & Thyme” and Celine Dion’s “My Heart Will Go On.”)
With close to an hour in the parking lot, it’s entertaining to take a back seat to the dark corners of your mind. The bus to Yangshuo finally pulled up and I clambered aboard to settle in for the roughly 3-4 hour ride back through Guilin and south to the Li River valley and the lush, karst landscape of Yangshuo. I don’t recall how much the bus ticket cost, but I want to say it was cheap. Maybe 80 RMB or something along those lines, which is a little less than $15.
The ride between Dragon’s Backbone & Yangshuo was completely uneventful. It was just one of those times I wish I had a time machine (or a personal helicopter) to make it go that much more quickly…and avoid the horrendous Chinese driving, including the unnecessary traffic jam in the south part of Guilin and thicker traffic between Guilin and Yangshuo.
So far, vacation was humming along pretty close to on schedule, and I was happy as a lark. The bus pulled into the heart of Yangshuo around 12:15. Yangshuo was the other big part of the first half of the trip. As I mentioned, the plan was to spend 5 nights in this corner of the province, so I had two nights here in Yangshuo.
Yangshuo is also getting a lot of attention as a travel destination these days, and is supposedly getting pretty crowded (though it didn’t feel crowded to me…not after living in some of the world’s major cities for the past 5-6 years). Yangshuo is one of those types of towns that people in the Pacific Northwest of the US or Colorado would love. (Yes, I’m being intentionally stereotypical.) What I mean to say is…this is an active person’s paradise. Yangshuo is rapidly becoming one of the top destinations in the world for rock climbing. People come here to be active. Most are younger, outdoorsy, athletic types…and Yangshuo probably has as many foreigners as locals most of the time.
In general, people will come here and set up base camp at any of the number of hostels, guesthouses, or hotels in the area. (I chose the Yangshuo Outside Inn, about 6 km west of Yangshuo, on the banks of the Yulong River. It’s run by a Dutchman – Ronald, I believe – and his Chinese wife. An old farmhouse that they converted into an inn, and it’s absolutely charming with the most wonderful service. I’ll gladly stay there if I get back to Yangshuo someday.)
At whichever hostel you choose – and since, like any small tourist spot with an overflow of guesthouses fighting for business, the rates tend to be low, and they try to offer services (travel packages, bike rentals, advice, arranging taxis, doing laundry, whatever you want ) to attract customers – you will probably be pleased with how little money you spend. I can only tell you that the Outside Inn had a terrific restaurant, bike rental, laundry service, rooms with AC, without AC (ceiling fans and mosquito nets instead), and suggestions for local and regional travel.
The village of Yangshuo is very small (and congested). There’s quite a bit of nightlife on Xi Dajie, since most who visit here are young and energetic. You’ll find all kinds of restaurants, bars, clubs. And surrounding this very small downtown are huge karst hills that look like gumdrops popping out of the ground.
During the day, rent a bike and ride to and from the nearby towns like Fuli (9 km to the east) or Xingping (about 20 km northeast). You can do things like take bamboo boat trips up and down the Li River (bigger and congested) or ride a bike along the Yulong River among the small villages and farms. Climb Moon Hill, go find caves, just…get outside.
And at night, come back, unwind, and relax downtown on Xi Dajie or enjoy the award-winning light show on the Li River that they have every night (weather permitting) that world-famous movie director Zhang Yimou (who also did the light show for the 2008 Beijing Olympics) put together for about 200 RMB. (I am sad to say, though, that I did not go see the light show. There may be another trip to Yangshuo for me yet…)
So what about my Yangshuo experience? Well…I checked in to the Outside Inn around 1:00 on Tuesday afternoon. Not wanting to waste a minute, the first thing I did was rented one of their bicycles, and hopped out on the road heading along the Yulong River. I joined up with two Chinese ladies, and off we went. We got separated later (because they were stopping every two seconds), though they were nice, friendly, and helpful. The bike was fine, though the seat felt like I was sitting on a brick. After arriving at the Dragon bridge (our original destination), I stayed there for about ten minutes. Right before getting there, though, I stopped at a roadside cafe, trying to wait for these two ladies for about 30 minutes. They never materialized, but I had an interesting time talking with the guy who owned the shop. Just sitting, drinking water, and passing the afternoon in the middle of nowhere.
The bridge was one of the most underwhelming bridges I’d seen. I don’t even think I photographed it. The surrounding scenery from atop the bridge, though, was quite nice (and is represented in this set). Climbing back on my bike, I worked my way the 90 minutes back to the hotel, feeling like my backside had been violated, and was black and blue. Since the temperatures were nearing 35 degrees, and it was a clear, sunny day, I figured it was time for a nap.
My ambition to get out early turned out to be the only real mistake I made this entire trip. On top of very slight heat exhaustion, I missed the most amazing sunset I’ve seen in China. The entire sky had turned every shade between deep purple and royal blue imaginable (which would have looked GREAT from next to the river), but I woke up about 1/3 of the way through that evening’s sundown and had to watch it tearfully between trees with only glimpses of the sky. At least it’s in my memory. I hoped the following night would be a repeat of this one, but, unfortunately, it was pretty much clouded over and didn’t photograph terribly well. Oh, well…lesson learned.
After a good night’s sleep, I woke up early on Wednesday to start exploring Yangshuo proper and the Li River, after staying exclusively on the Yulong River the previous day. I walked the 6 km to town. Well…about 3 km, then took a san lun che (“tuk tuk,” for those who’ve been to India) the rest of the way and just told the guy to stop…wherever. I got out, started wandering the main drag, and booked an afternoon tour of the Li River on a bamboo raft that would go from Xingping partway north on the river, then back to Xingping. (We would go to Xingping by bus and get stuck on the two-lane road coming back in terrible traffic). I still had quite a few hours to kill in the morning, so I wandered around Xi Dajie, and made it down to the riverside, where I booked yet another boat to go around the Li River. The first one cost, I think, 160 RMB from what I remember. This one was 100 RMB, but it was a bit of a lie. I had to hop on back a motorbike and we rode the 9 km to Fuli (a surprisingly nice little shopping area for souvenirs), and that boat was not an open-air bamboo raft, but more like…a very small cruise ship where you sit inside a cabin.
The ride wasn’t unpleasant at all – and the scenery was stunning – so I can’t complain too much. Besides, I did need to find a way to pass the morning, and this did just fine. After the boat and motorcycle ride back to Yangshuo, I had lunch, then went to the first place where I booked a boatride.
That really was a bamboo raft…the kind that’s canopied, and seats 4 people to a boat. So after the coach took us up to Xingping and dropped us off, we hopped on and had a ride for about 20-25 minutes up this stretch of the river (slightly more scenic than the section near Fuli), and then made our way back down to the starting point.
After the bus ride back to town, we got back around 6:00. I took a taxi to the hotel and, as I just mentioned, hoped to have a nice sunset (though my optimism has sunk after watching the afternoon sky start to cloud over). At any rate, I went out and found a place near the farmhouse…just in case.
With no good results from that sunset shot, I packed up my gear and spent the evening relaxing at the farmhouse with dinner, then back in my room reading. All in all, I had been very pleased up until this point with both Dragon’s Backbone and Yangshuo. Thursday morning didn’t need me to start too early. I also knew it would be a travel day, and I wouldn’t be shooting much (if at all). But, at least I’d see the Guangxi countryside, not quite knowing what the rest of the province looked like. It would be a pleasant and interesting day, I soon learned…
Come slogarsi un dito per scattare a più non posso durante un viaggio di lavoro nelle città di Shenzen e Guangzhou nel sud della Cina
Sony A7SII
Super Multi Coated Takumar 50mm 1.4
Watch the Video at:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=fnNfBgJxLFg
The lens used today was a Cannon Zoom Lens EF 24-105 1:4 L IS USM.
On 8th December 2024, DR Class 95.0 2-10-2 tank 95 1027-2 continues to slog up the 1 in 17 away from Blankenburg towards the reversal station and then on to Rübeland smokebox-first. Originally completed by the Halberstadt-Blankenburg Railway (HBE) in 1886 and referred to as the Harz Railway, the Rübeland Railway in more recent times. In addition to the junction with the South Harz Railway at Tanne, a branch line from Wechsel to Drei Annen Hohne also linked the Rübeland Railway to the Harzquerbahn and Brockenbahn metre gauge railways. This line was closed in 1963 and the track was later lifted, but the trackbed was left in place. The Rübeland Railway was electrified to 25 kV AC by the Deutsche Reichsbahn between 1960 and 1965 to allow heavier lime traffic from the quarries near Rübeland and the DR Class E251 (later Class 171) locomotives were specially built for the line, finally being taken out of traffic in 2004, with two surviving at Blankenburg. The sixty year old masts and foundations re now showing their age.
© Gordon Edgar - All rights reserved. Please do not use my images without my explicit permission
GBRf 66799 slogs up the incline away from Bury St Edmunds at Cattishall on Friday 4th October 2024. The 'Shed' hauls two sets of RHTT wagons and 66719 on the rear towards Stowmarket for the start of the leaf busting season. The chance appearance of the tractor ploughing the field late in the day nicely adds to the image.
A few random images from a very hot slog of a walk I did last week 8 July from the village of Great Rollright to the small market town of Chipping Norton (Chippy).
A favourite 'go to' walk of mine as the bouncy little village bus passes the end of our road, get off on route for a walk and at the end of it get a pint in The Chequers, our favourite pub in Chippy before catching it back.
Another heatwave was due to start building the next day but the forecast for the 8th was showing broken cloud and a do-able 23 degrees.
The morning was perfect with very photogenic clouds but I decided to wait a little longer to get some longer shadows, - a big mistake. By the time I got off the bus in the village of Great Rollright there wasn't a cloud in the sky and the sun was cooking!
It made for a very hot and dull walk with few opportunities for photos. I was less than a mile out of Great Rollright with over another six to go and was already regretting it. Chippy seemed an awfully long way away at this point.
But then again what other seven mile walk takes in 3 picturesque Cotswold villages with 3 ancient churches, one of the area's best old small market towns and a collection of prehistoric stone monuments, including England's third most important stone circle...and that pint. (Oh and an incredibly handsome soldier - 17th century - but you take what you can get.)
25134 slogs up the final few yards to Ais Gill summit at barely 10mph with a 46-wagon load from Carlisle in typical Pennine weather on 25 June 1982.
during the fourthl One-day International between West Indies Women and Pakistan Women at Beausejour Cricket Ground on Saturday, October 24, 2015.
Photo by WICB Media/Randy Brooks of Brooks Latouche Photography
On what must have been one of the dullest days in history sees 37884 slogging up the lickey incline with 319012 + 319220 in tow at 16:14 working 5Z70 Long Marston to Crewe C.S. 27/11/2017
Barely 24hrs prior, I was slogging along an uneven ridge on the High Divide in Olympic National Park, with views of Mt Olympus on one side, and an amalgamation of green valleys and mountain ranges leading to the Pacific on the other side. The hot late summer day and the lack of shade made hauling a 35lb pack all the more excruciating, but the scenery more than made up for it.
But the very next day, I found myself in a green haven, hiking through lush vegatation down one of the valleys along a leafy trail that followed the gurgling sounds of a life-giving creek. Tall conifers shared the canopy with vine maples and broad-leaved oaks while the undergrowth was dense with idyllic ferns and vanilla leaves, with huckleberry shrub loaded with juicy ripe berries spread all over.
A few hours in, the sound of rushing water, far more intense than the gurgle, caught my attention. Following it through the undergrowth, I came across this beautiful cascade where the creek wound its way through a leafy canyon. Barely any light filtered through, leading to a soft and mellow scene. It was a welcome respite from the prior twos of hiking in unbearably hot weather.
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Olympic National Park
WA USA
Come slogarsi un dito per scattare a più non posso durante un viaggio di lavoro nelle città di Shenzen e Guangzhou nel sud della Cina
Sony A7SII
Nikkor 20mm 2.8 Ais
EW & S liveried 60049 is on full power as it draws uphill at Peak Forest working 6F05 Tunstead - Oakleigh service.
90057 slogs over the crossing and leaves Featherstone with a mixed freight on 29th December 1966. 90057 was transferred from Hull Dairycoates to Goole on 31st December,where it would remain until June 1967,when it was withdrawn. 90057 was scrapped in January 1968.
Photo: Alan Walker
the long slog up Slieve Donard, started in the glorious Donard wood. Full of atmosphere and character. how many thousands of people had trod on these same roots...
Sneak Preview of Secret Mountain Fort Awesome Tonight @ 7:30c/8:30pst/et on Cartoon Network.
Please share! since CN is not promoting our premier tonight.
Tuesday morning came awfully early, and I was still on a bit of a natural high from having spent the past 2 days up in the mountains with its moody/cloudy/misty/foggy weather. I came downstairs early, around 7:00, and ate breakfast alone for the last time at the Dragon’s Backbone Hostel. (I recall donating a book to their library, too; I forget which. Just a generic David Baldacci one, I think.)
Around 7:30, I started to set my way down the hill, enjoying the walk – going down is always much more relaxing than slogging my way up hill – and got to the main parking lot just below Dazhai with about 45 minutes to spare.
That 40 minute jaunt gave me time to reflect on the past two days. For the most part, I just thought it was a peaceful, beautiful, serene place, which I’d gladly visit again…probably in a different season (autumn, to give variety)…and that I wished I’d had a nicer (that is to say, any) sunrise or sunset. On Monday, I even woke up at 4:45 in the morning, but staring through the pitch black, not seeing stars, I knew that there wouldn’t be much of a sunrise to validate going an hour farther uphill above Tiantouzhai to the Music from Paradise viewpoint just to see….varying shades of gray. (The viewpoints here all have very interesting and flowery names. Ironically, at that one, there was a Chinese guy playing saxophone. If anyone wants to know what they’ll hear when they get to paradise…evidently, Simon & Garfunkel’s “Parsley Sage Rosemary & Thyme” and Celine Dion’s “My Heart Will Go On.”)
With close to an hour in the parking lot, it’s entertaining to take a back seat to the dark corners of your mind. The bus to Yangshuo finally pulled up and I clambered aboard to settle in for the roughly 3-4 hour ride back through Guilin and south to the Li River valley and the lush, karst landscape of Yangshuo. I don’t recall how much the bus ticket cost, but I want to say it was cheap. Maybe 80 RMB or something along those lines, which is a little less than $15.
The ride between Dragon’s Backbone & Yangshuo was completely uneventful. It was just one of those times I wish I had a time machine (or a personal helicopter) to make it go that much more quickly…and avoid the horrendous Chinese driving, including the unnecessary traffic jam in the south part of Guilin and thicker traffic between Guilin and Yangshuo.
So far, vacation was humming along pretty close to on schedule, and I was happy as a lark. The bus pulled into the heart of Yangshuo around 12:15. Yangshuo was the other big part of the first half of the trip. As I mentioned, the plan was to spend 5 nights in this corner of the province, so I had two nights here in Yangshuo.
Yangshuo is also getting a lot of attention as a travel destination these days, and is supposedly getting pretty crowded (though it didn’t feel crowded to me…not after living in some of the world’s major cities for the past 5-6 years). Yangshuo is one of those types of towns that people in the Pacific Northwest of the US or Colorado would love. (Yes, I’m being intentionally stereotypical.) What I mean to say is…this is an active person’s paradise. Yangshuo is rapidly becoming one of the top destinations in the world for rock climbing. People come here to be active. Most are younger, outdoorsy, athletic types…and Yangshuo probably has as many foreigners as locals most of the time.
In general, people will come here and set up base camp at any of the number of hostels, guesthouses, or hotels in the area. (I chose the Yangshuo Outside Inn, about 6 km west of Yangshuo, on the banks of the Yulong River. It’s run by a Dutchman – Ronald, I believe – and his Chinese wife. An old farmhouse that they converted into an inn, and it’s absolutely charming with the most wonderful service. I’ll gladly stay there if I get back to Yangshuo someday.)
At whichever hostel you choose – and since, like any small tourist spot with an overflow of guesthouses fighting for business, the rates tend to be low, and they try to offer services (travel packages, bike rentals, advice, arranging taxis, doing laundry, whatever you want ) to attract customers – you will probably be pleased with how little money you spend. I can only tell you that the Outside Inn had a terrific restaurant, bike rental, laundry service, rooms with AC, without AC (ceiling fans and mosquito nets instead), and suggestions for local and regional travel.
The village of Yangshuo is very small (and congested). There’s quite a bit of nightlife on Xi Dajie, since most who visit here are young and energetic. You’ll find all kinds of restaurants, bars, clubs. And surrounding this very small downtown are huge karst hills that look like gumdrops popping out of the ground.
During the day, rent a bike and ride to and from the nearby towns like Fuli (9 km to the east) or Xingping (about 20 km northeast). You can do things like take bamboo boat trips up and down the Li River (bigger and congested) or ride a bike along the Yulong River among the small villages and farms. Climb Moon Hill, go find caves, just…get outside.
And at night, come back, unwind, and relax downtown on Xi Dajie or enjoy the award-winning light show on the Li River that they have every night (weather permitting) that world-famous movie director Zhang Yimou (who also did the light show for the 2008 Beijing Olympics) put together for about 200 RMB. (I am sad to say, though, that I did not go see the light show. There may be another trip to Yangshuo for me yet…)
So what about my Yangshuo experience? Well…I checked in to the Outside Inn around 1:00 on Tuesday afternoon. Not wanting to waste a minute, the first thing I did was rented one of their bicycles, and hopped out on the road heading along the Yulong River. I joined up with two Chinese ladies, and off we went. We got separated later (because they were stopping every two seconds), though they were nice, friendly, and helpful. The bike was fine, though the seat felt like I was sitting on a brick. After arriving at the Dragon bridge (our original destination), I stayed there for about ten minutes. Right before getting there, though, I stopped at a roadside cafe, trying to wait for these two ladies for about 30 minutes. They never materialized, but I had an interesting time talking with the guy who owned the shop. Just sitting, drinking water, and passing the afternoon in the middle of nowhere.
The bridge was one of the most underwhelming bridges I’d seen. I don’t even think I photographed it. The surrounding scenery from atop the bridge, though, was quite nice (and is represented in this set). Climbing back on my bike, I worked my way the 90 minutes back to the hotel, feeling like my backside had been violated, and was black and blue. Since the temperatures were nearing 35 degrees, and it was a clear, sunny day, I figured it was time for a nap.
My ambition to get out early turned out to be the only real mistake I made this entire trip. On top of very slight heat exhaustion, I missed the most amazing sunset I’ve seen in China. The entire sky had turned every shade between deep purple and royal blue imaginable (which would have looked GREAT from next to the river), but I woke up about 1/3 of the way through that evening’s sundown and had to watch it tearfully between trees with only glimpses of the sky. At least it’s in my memory. I hoped the following night would be a repeat of this one, but, unfortunately, it was pretty much clouded over and didn’t photograph terribly well. Oh, well…lesson learned.
After a good night’s sleep, I woke up early on Wednesday to start exploring Yangshuo proper and the Li River, after staying exclusively on the Yulong River the previous day. I walked the 6 km to town. Well…about 3 km, then took a san lun che (“tuk tuk,” for those who’ve been to India) the rest of the way and just told the guy to stop…wherever. I got out, started wandering the main drag, and booked an afternoon tour of the Li River on a bamboo raft that would go from Xingping partway north on the river, then back to Xingping. (We would go to Xingping by bus and get stuck on the two-lane road coming back in terrible traffic). I still had quite a few hours to kill in the morning, so I wandered around Xi Dajie, and made it down to the riverside, where I booked yet another boat to go around the Li River. The first one cost, I think, 160 RMB from what I remember. This one was 100 RMB, but it was a bit of a lie. I had to hop on back a motorbike and we rode the 9 km to Fuli (a surprisingly nice little shopping area for souvenirs), and that boat was not an open-air bamboo raft, but more like…a very small cruise ship where you sit inside a cabin.
The ride wasn’t unpleasant at all – and the scenery was stunning – so I can’t complain too much. Besides, I did need to find a way to pass the morning, and this did just fine. After the boat and motorcycle ride back to Yangshuo, I had lunch, then went to the first place where I booked a boatride.
That really was a bamboo raft…the kind that’s canopied, and seats 4 people to a boat. So after the coach took us up to Xingping and dropped us off, we hopped on and had a ride for about 20-25 minutes up this stretch of the river (slightly more scenic than the section near Fuli), and then made our way back down to the starting point.
After the bus ride back to town, we got back around 6:00. I took a taxi to the hotel and, as I just mentioned, hoped to have a nice sunset (though my optimism has sunk after watching the afternoon sky start to cloud over). At any rate, I went out and found a place near the farmhouse…just in case.
With no good results from that sunset shot, I packed up my gear and spent the evening relaxing at the farmhouse with dinner, then back in my room reading. All in all, I had been very pleased up until this point with both Dragon’s Backbone and Yangshuo. Thursday morning didn’t need me to start too early. I also knew it would be a travel day, and I wouldn’t be shooting much (if at all). But, at least I’d see the Guangxi countryside, not quite knowing what the rest of the province looked like. It would be a pleasant and interesting day, I soon learned…
Tuesday morning came awfully early, and I was still on a bit of a natural high from having spent the past 2 days up in the mountains with its moody/cloudy/misty/foggy weather. I came downstairs early, around 7:00, and ate breakfast alone for the last time at the Dragon’s Backbone Hostel. (I recall donating a book to their library, too; I forget which. Just a generic David Baldacci one, I think.)
Around 7:30, I started to set my way down the hill, enjoying the walk – going down is always much more relaxing than slogging my way up hill – and got to the main parking lot just below Dazhai with about 45 minutes to spare.
That 40 minute jaunt gave me time to reflect on the past two days. For the most part, I just thought it was a peaceful, beautiful, serene place, which I’d gladly visit again…probably in a different season (autumn, to give variety)…and that I wished I’d had a nicer (that is to say, any) sunrise or sunset. On Monday, I even woke up at 4:45 in the morning, but staring through the pitch black, not seeing stars, I knew that there wouldn’t be much of a sunrise to validate going an hour farther uphill above Tiantouzhai to the Music from Paradise viewpoint just to see….varying shades of gray. (The viewpoints here all have very interesting and flowery names. Ironically, at that one, there was a Chinese guy playing saxophone. If anyone wants to know what they’ll hear when they get to paradise…evidently, Simon & Garfunkel’s “Parsley Sage Rosemary & Thyme” and Celine Dion’s “My Heart Will Go On.”)
With close to an hour in the parking lot, it’s entertaining to take a back seat to the dark corners of your mind. The bus to Yangshuo finally pulled up and I clambered aboard to settle in for the roughly 3-4 hour ride back through Guilin and south to the Li River valley and the lush, karst landscape of Yangshuo. I don’t recall how much the bus ticket cost, but I want to say it was cheap. Maybe 80 RMB or something along those lines, which is a little less than $15.
The ride between Dragon’s Backbone & Yangshuo was completely uneventful. It was just one of those times I wish I had a time machine (or a personal helicopter) to make it go that much more quickly…and avoid the horrendous Chinese driving, including the unnecessary traffic jam in the south part of Guilin and thicker traffic between Guilin and Yangshuo.
So far, vacation was humming along pretty close to on schedule, and I was happy as a lark. The bus pulled into the heart of Yangshuo around 12:15. Yangshuo was the other big part of the first half of the trip. As I mentioned, the plan was to spend 5 nights in this corner of the province, so I had two nights here in Yangshuo.
Yangshuo is also getting a lot of attention as a travel destination these days, and is supposedly getting pretty crowded (though it didn’t feel crowded to me…not after living in some of the world’s major cities for the past 5-6 years). Yangshuo is one of those types of towns that people in the Pacific Northwest of the US or Colorado would love. (Yes, I’m being intentionally stereotypical.) What I mean to say is…this is an active person’s paradise. Yangshuo is rapidly becoming one of the top destinations in the world for rock climbing. People come here to be active. Most are younger, outdoorsy, athletic types…and Yangshuo probably has as many foreigners as locals most of the time.
In general, people will come here and set up base camp at any of the number of hostels, guesthouses, or hotels in the area. (I chose the Yangshuo Outside Inn, about 6 km west of Yangshuo, on the banks of the Yulong River. It’s run by a Dutchman – Ronald, I believe – and his Chinese wife. An old farmhouse that they converted into an inn, and it’s absolutely charming with the most wonderful service. I’ll gladly stay there if I get back to Yangshuo someday.)
At whichever hostel you choose – and since, like any small tourist spot with an overflow of guesthouses fighting for business, the rates tend to be low, and they try to offer services (travel packages, bike rentals, advice, arranging taxis, doing laundry, whatever you want ) to attract customers – you will probably be pleased with how little money you spend. I can only tell you that the Outside Inn had a terrific restaurant, bike rental, laundry service, rooms with AC, without AC (ceiling fans and mosquito nets instead), and suggestions for local and regional travel.
The village of Yangshuo is very small (and congested). There’s quite a bit of nightlife on Xi Dajie, since most who visit here are young and energetic. You’ll find all kinds of restaurants, bars, clubs. And surrounding this very small downtown are huge karst hills that look like gumdrops popping out of the ground.
During the day, rent a bike and ride to and from the nearby towns like Fuli (9 km to the east) or Xingping (about 20 km northeast). You can do things like take bamboo boat trips up and down the Li River (bigger and congested) or ride a bike along the Yulong River among the small villages and farms. Climb Moon Hill, go find caves, just…get outside.
And at night, come back, unwind, and relax downtown on Xi Dajie or enjoy the award-winning light show on the Li River that they have every night (weather permitting) that world-famous movie director Zhang Yimou (who also did the light show for the 2008 Beijing Olympics) put together for about 200 RMB. (I am sad to say, though, that I did not go see the light show. There may be another trip to Yangshuo for me yet…)
So what about my Yangshuo experience? Well…I checked in to the Outside Inn around 1:00 on Tuesday afternoon. Not wanting to waste a minute, the first thing I did was rented one of their bicycles, and hopped out on the road heading along the Yulong River. I joined up with two Chinese ladies, and off we went. We got separated later (because they were stopping every two seconds), though they were nice, friendly, and helpful. The bike was fine, though the seat felt like I was sitting on a brick. After arriving at the Dragon bridge (our original destination), I stayed there for about ten minutes. Right before getting there, though, I stopped at a roadside cafe, trying to wait for these two ladies for about 30 minutes. They never materialized, but I had an interesting time talking with the guy who owned the shop. Just sitting, drinking water, and passing the afternoon in the middle of nowhere.
The bridge was one of the most underwhelming bridges I’d seen. I don’t even think I photographed it. The surrounding scenery from atop the bridge, though, was quite nice (and is represented in this set). Climbing back on my bike, I worked my way the 90 minutes back to the hotel, feeling like my backside had been violated, and was black and blue. Since the temperatures were nearing 35 degrees, and it was a clear, sunny day, I figured it was time for a nap.
My ambition to get out early turned out to be the only real mistake I made this entire trip. On top of very slight heat exhaustion, I missed the most amazing sunset I’ve seen in China. The entire sky had turned every shade between deep purple and royal blue imaginable (which would have looked GREAT from next to the river), but I woke up about 1/3 of the way through that evening’s sundown and had to watch it tearfully between trees with only glimpses of the sky. At least it’s in my memory. I hoped the following night would be a repeat of this one, but, unfortunately, it was pretty much clouded over and didn’t photograph terribly well. Oh, well…lesson learned.
After a good night’s sleep, I woke up early on Wednesday to start exploring Yangshuo proper and the Li River, after staying exclusively on the Yulong River the previous day. I walked the 6 km to town. Well…about 3 km, then took a san lun che (“tuk tuk,” for those who’ve been to India) the rest of the way and just told the guy to stop…wherever. I got out, started wandering the main drag, and booked an afternoon tour of the Li River on a bamboo raft that would go from Xingping partway north on the river, then back to Xingping. (We would go to Xingping by bus and get stuck on the two-lane road coming back in terrible traffic). I still had quite a few hours to kill in the morning, so I wandered around Xi Dajie, and made it down to the riverside, where I booked yet another boat to go around the Li River. The first one cost, I think, 160 RMB from what I remember. This one was 100 RMB, but it was a bit of a lie. I had to hop on back a motorbike and we rode the 9 km to Fuli (a surprisingly nice little shopping area for souvenirs), and that boat was not an open-air bamboo raft, but more like…a very small cruise ship where you sit inside a cabin.
The ride wasn’t unpleasant at all – and the scenery was stunning – so I can’t complain too much. Besides, I did need to find a way to pass the morning, and this did just fine. After the boat and motorcycle ride back to Yangshuo, I had lunch, then went to the first place where I booked a boatride.
That really was a bamboo raft…the kind that’s canopied, and seats 4 people to a boat. So after the coach took us up to Xingping and dropped us off, we hopped on and had a ride for about 20-25 minutes up this stretch of the river (slightly more scenic than the section near Fuli), and then made our way back down to the starting point.
After the bus ride back to town, we got back around 6:00. I took a taxi to the hotel and, as I just mentioned, hoped to have a nice sunset (though my optimism has sunk after watching the afternoon sky start to cloud over). At any rate, I went out and found a place near the farmhouse…just in case.
With no good results from that sunset shot, I packed up my gear and spent the evening relaxing at the farmhouse with dinner, then back in my room reading. All in all, I had been very pleased up until this point with both Dragon’s Backbone and Yangshuo. Thursday morning didn’t need me to start too early. I also knew it would be a travel day, and I wouldn’t be shooting much (if at all). But, at least I’d see the Guangxi countryside, not quite knowing what the rest of the province looked like. It would be a pleasant and interesting day, I soon learned…