As you may have noticed I am fond of patterns, strong contrasts and small detail. And these are often to be found at the beach. And though most of the beaches near me (the SE Coast of England) are, frankly, uninspiring, with a bit of effort and vision I can find what I am looking for. And the best of such locations near me is West Wittering, with beaches, salt marshes, sand patterns and waves. So one sunny day a couple of weeks ago I set off for West Wittering. And literally in the last 200 metres I ran into thick cold fog. Didn’t deter the Brits, of course, from a day at the seaside, yet no contrasts, no patterns, and waves lost in the fog. So little contrast that the autofocus would not work so I had to do it the old fashioned manual way. The results give a strange other world feel to the beach, and though not my usual style, some pretty images.

For this image it is back to Limone Piemonte in the Italian Alps. And on this occasion I will leave it to you to speculate how and where this could have been taken; for it matters not really, just the late afternoon sunshine highlighting the beautiful patterns and textures.

As those who follow this blog will know, I like waves; the sheer variety of shapes from little ripples up to big rollers never ceases to fascinate. And to photograph them, without specialist equipment that is, you need to get wet. But wet, not drown. And on some beaches the only way you can do this is to photograph them head on, often with a long lens. Yet not all beaches. This is from one of my favourite beaches on the Mornington Peninsula, near Melbourne. And the beaches often have  curves, so that you can stand on one curve, jutting out into the water, and photograph into the bay(let) of the next curve. And you still get wet, but only thigh deep and not drowned …. I prefer it that way.

High in the Italian Alps the air is clear and the contrasts stark. The first image is taken not long after sunrise as the light illuminates the upper slopes. For contrast the second is unset, the fading light with a mix of pastel shades together with bare rock and ice.

For the New Year M&M and I went to Limone, a small town in the Alps in NW Italy. Pretty place and, being Italy, great food and wine. And yours truly tried skiing for the first time ever. Well I won’t say I was a natural, but I had a good teacher who took things gradually, so I only ended up on my backside once.

And, in addition to the eating, drinking and skiing we also did some walking on the lower slopes. It was cold, yet not too cold and the end result were some amazing ice formations on rocks and branches that overhung the mountain streams. We were truly in the Goldilocks zone, any colder and the streams would simply have frozen, any warmer and they would have simply been mountain streams. But in the ‘just right’ Goldilocks zone the streams flowed, and the splashes froze as they hit the rocks and branches. An icy dance for Gaia.

So we made our way down the mountain slowly. And as we got back to our starting point the last of the Autumn sunlight lit up the bracken at  the top of opposite slope, Red Screes, whilst the darkness gathered on the lower areas.

And we had a much earned beer at the Kirkstone Pass Inn, the highest Inn in England.  Funny bjust how good a beer tastes when you  have earned it. I have remarked how the walk earns you a view you could never get otherwise, a view that no money can buy; well I suppose, if you want to be picky, if you had enough money you could get your helicopter to take you there, but that well earned beer is priceless.

So we continued the climb on Stoney Cove Pike and after coming up through the cloud we found little wilderness of bog and rocks, with clouds above us, clouds below us and the Sun breaking through from time to time. Pretty yet nothing strong enough for the blog. Slowly, and at times painfully, we plodded our way through this wilderness, called Mardale Moor until we started to climb towards the peak. And like many Lakeland peaks this one is tricksy inasmuch as you climb, think you are almost there, and then the last few metres shows that you have just climbed a fold, and the top is a bit further on, and you climb that, and find that it too just shows the next stage. But eventually we got there, and not for the first time I wondered why I was doing this to myself. It is not for the exercise, a trip to the gym can do that. It is not for the fresh air, a walk along a canal can do that. It is not even for the view from the top for though pretty, you are on top and looking down on the rest of the world; the views are better on the way up, or on the way down. But there is the sense of achievement, and to be ‘on the way down’ you have to have been ‘up’ in the first place, and you will see views that no amount of sticking an expensive camera out of the car window can get you. If. for the area, it’s a small mountain then you can still see the grandeur of its companions, and if it’s a big mountain, then you’re on top of the world.

And on the way down we fantasise as to how good that well earned beer will be; and all because we made the effort.

So we started to descend, and a combination of my back slowing us, and that it was October with the days getting shorter meant that the light started to go. And I took these images. I have not photoshopped the colour, it was just a feature of the weather and the fading light.

A couple of months ago I did my usual trip to the Lake District with my son. And leaving home, on the way to pick him up I hurt my back. Now, it might have been wise to spend the first few days resting, but we were only there for a week, and on the first full day the weather forecast was tolerable, whilst for the rest of the week it was forecast to rain. So I thought we might as well, back or no back, do a proper walk on that first day as that might be the only good one of the week.. And so it was that every day the forecast was for it to rain tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow. The only time we actually got rained on was one evening coming back a half mile from the pub to our hotel. Painful, yet we were well rewarded.

So this entry and the next few will be the story of that first day walk, a triumph of perseverance and ibuprofen over common sense; starting with 2 images.

We started by driving from Portinscale to Ullswater, then along Ullswater and started heading up towards Kirkstone Pass. Our target for the day was a peak called Stoney Cove Pike, the highest point on Caudale Moor. And as we drove the clouds were tumbling across the sky, with occasional glimpses of the Sun, and at least it was not a uniform dull grey so it was very picturesque. And the second of these pictures were taken as we headed past Patterdale; I put it second simply because I prefer the other; but it all tells the story. The clouds were spilling down the valley from the pass and the impact was a most unusual cloud formation; we could see the mountains, yet also see the clouds down almost at valley level.

We got to the pass, kitted up, and started off for the lower slopes leading up from the road. And we were in quite thick cloud and we thought seriously about calling off the walk; after all it’s not smart to walk in that visibility; too easy to take the quick and fatal way down the mountain, and if you arrive safely you cannot see anything. But we set off and said we would see how it went. And as we moved from the slopes we had to climb up a cloudy rocky gully. Yet at the top of the gully we could see a golden glow in the cloud, so we climbed and as we got to the top of the gully we emerged through and above the clouds. The views were gorgeous, truly Gaia dancing in great form.

This is my last post, for a good while anyway, on Sri Lanka. Apologies to my followers for the slow rate of posts over these last few months; but it has been quite a painful process, trying to describe this flawed paradise in a fair fashion.

So, I was travelling with M&M and a dear Sri Lankan friend. And my friend had much in the way of civil and familial duties to perform (the nearest description I can come to is village royalty in waiting) which M&M and I were there to add moral support. Except that I got an afternoon off for good behaviour. Now Jaffna is both the name of the city and the northern Tamil area of Sri Lanka. And it is very flat, with scrubby heathland, rice paddies and beaches. So, only the coasts really as a subject for a landscape photographer; and the coast is pretty flat with little in the way of rocks, just long white sand beaches, lagoons and salt marshes. So I elected to go to a nearby fishing village, nothing more than a few rough huts, a breakwater and a few boats. So uncle/driver took me to the village.

And  on the roadway in to the beach area was the obligatory sentry point and a soldier, large gun thing in hand. So Uncle asked if it was OK to go to the beach. So he nodded and started to walk along the beach. And the soldier came after me, waggled his gun in my direction and told me I couldn’t see this bit of the beach, I had to walk in the other direction. And I do say waggled rather than pointed, but he could have smiled and waggled his hand; and, funnily enough, I am not used to having guns waggled in my direction, even as a pointing tool, so went in the proscribed direction, with no idea whatsoever as to what was wrong with the other direction.  And the war ended 5 years ago, with no upsurge of any sort since, so time for a policeman, pistol in holster, methinks, rather than an armed soldier …. unless of course you are trying to frighten and subdue the local populace.

The beach was a mistake; the saltmarshes and lagoons would have been a better idea. But the timeslot was too narrow and I didn’t like to impose so I made the best of it. Most of the photos were, frankly, nondescript, but the image of this guy casting his net is nice. It took a lot of shots to catch the net at even approximately the right moment of unfolding. Now, as my son once put it, I am the only person he knows with his camera set up to fire in bursts; but, maybe it was the heat (intense) or the gun waggling, I had forgotten to do this. Moral of the story is to think about every photo location and what camera settings would be best for it.

And then as I was walking back to Uncle’s minibus a boat came into sight. Time for a few shots then time to go.

And time to move on from Sri Lanka.

These images started as a photograph of a wave taken at Trincomalee. As is often the case with me there is less photoshopping in here than one might suspect. Mostly it is about careful cropping and then some simple options to intensify the resultant image; Gaia has done all the rest with beautiful patterns and colours, all there for us to see, admire …. and take good care of.

And cropping is sometimes and interesting discussion between myself and Muse&Mentor. M&M usually prefers a closer crop so that all is reduced to abstract pattern and colour; I prefer at least some clues as to the image’s origin with which to marvel at what our beautiful planet has produced. Usually I listen to M&M, without whose guidance and encouragement this blog would probably never have happened. Yet sometimes I rebel and prefer my own version; on this occasion I supply both.

And the sting in the tail …. Our visit to Sri Lanka was amazing; we saw many beautiful and fascinating places, we were fed to repletion, and toasted in the wonderful climate. Of special pleasure was the time spent in Jaffna, the Tamil/Hindu north where we were not tourists, just staying with a dear friend’s family and taking part in the temple celebrations; a joyous experience of a people’s religious devotion. M&M, who is a Buddhist was profoundly moved, as was I. We were both made so very welcome. Yet we also saw and heard some very disturbing things. The war between the Tamil/Hindu North and the Sinhalese/Buddhist South ended 5 years ago. The Tamil rebellion was sparked by genuine grievances over economic oppression and sidelining,  coupled with religious colonialism. And as in all wars some terrible acts were committed by both sides. I have struggled in my mind to try and reconcile the beauty that I saw, with the visible remains of the conflict and tried to take a balanced view. So these last few blog entries have been difficult to write and thus slow to produce. The war ended in total victory for the Buddhist/Sinhalese south, yet 5 years on, and despite there being no militaristic actions from the North  there are armed soldiers everywhere, huge monuments built to the ‘brave’ soldiers of the North yet no money for orphanages or hospitals. I saw barrel bombed Hindu temples, and hospitals with shell holes in the walls, I saw the continued economic oppression and religious colonialism which can only in time lead to another cycle of violence. In victory there should be acknowledgement of wrongdoings, magnanimity and rebuilding, but I saw nothing of the sort. The country is now controlled by a militaristic Buddhist theocracy, Buddhism gone wrong; M&M who is a Buddhist was very shocked; Siddhartha would have wept to have seen it.

And the further sting … driving south with our Tamil friend and Tamil driver we were asked to give a lift to a couple of young Tamil women to their home near Trincomalee. And though Trincomalee used to be part of the Tamil North it was a multi-cultural society and there was little or no violence in the area. But Trincomalee has now been annexed by the South, and Buddhist holidays and customs enforced. All part of ‘reconciliation’. And as a further act of ‘reconciliation’  the government pays a bounty every time a soldier gets a Tamil girl pregnant. And rape is an option. Rape as a weapon of reconciliation! So we were driving south with these girls and were stopped at a military checkpoint. Very little was said, but this young armed solder noted the girls and then tried to outstare M&M and myself. Maybe it was folly but I was in no mood to back down so I stared back, no blinking, no shift of gaze. He blinked first and we were sent on our way. As to what, if anything, might have happened had we not been there; who knows.