After plenty of fine days since we left home the weather for much of today was dreadful, but it did improve. The trouble with trying to capture a sunset picture in such a northerly latitude is that it always goes down so slowly, and this evening, time was a little limited and waiting much longer not really practical. But this one will do.
No further comment to make. There are many worse places to be on a sunny (if cold) Sunday morning.
There are many worse ways, and places, to spend a Thursday. Taken from the Howtown to Pooley Bridge ‘pleasure steamer’ service, following a good walk up Place Fell; soon to be duly recorded on the Wainwrights blog.
There are worse places to be at 8.20am on a Friday morning, that’s true. In 2007, the view down Wastwater to the mountains at its head (l-r: Yewbarrow, Great Gable, Lingmell) was voted ‘Britain’s Best View’ in an ITV programme (see this page); and you have to agree that it makes a good case. And I don’t even care that a car has got into the shot, in fact I quite like it — thanks to the person stood just to its right, also photographing this magnificent slice of land.
Brock Barrow is only about 750 feet above sea level (228m for all you metric system users) but it has a good view, including of Coniston Water below. Nice cairn too. It becomes my 303rd Wainwright on my second round: 27 to go. Tell you what though, it was damn windy and cold up there, even if it doesn’t look it. I just about got my 202nd Wainwright walk in before a storm arrived at lunchtime.
The last day in Ireland. Four days in the North, four photos with people in them, all taken in Derry — then four days in the Republic, four photos taken in different places and not a person to be seen (unless we count yesterday’s Madonna). Our drive back to Derry airport was partly done through the utterly empty landscapes of the Glenveeagh National Park. Lough Barra is in the middle of nowhere, but does have this slipway on it: maybe there is good fishing to be done there.
Hollingworth Lake is a reservoir, and for 200 years has also been a sort of strange, inland beach resort, where thousands of people once flocked on weekends — something that can still seem as if it’s the case. Even at 9.35 on a Sunday, early morning sunshine had brought lots of people out today, including me (because it’s healthy). The birdlife didn’t really care however. They watch us, just as we watch them, I am sure.
Decent weather was forecast for the first time in three weeks and lo, it delivered. I had to get out and expand my horizons somewhat, and the Lake District is a fine place to expand them. This is the view from Low Fell, one of A. Wainwrights Western Fells. The lake is Crummock Water, the two big hills Whiteside to the left, and Grasmoor.
Another nice visual illustration of a) physics and b) that it was far too nice a day to be sat in an office. I like also the little ‘V’ to the right which, if you look closely, seems to be caused by a swan, maybe mimicking that bigger metal brother. I bet its wake won’t end up spreading across the whole width of the lake though: which the boat’s did manage.
Hard to find much to complain about today, photographically or otherwise. And certainly no need to take further shots of toilets.
Being 42 