God, more of this crud. 2023 has not so far had vintage weather. But in a week’s time, I will be in the Southern Hemisphere, and whatever else goes on there, I’m damn sure the weather will be a lot warmer, and a lot lighter.
Took a different road home, at least between Edinburgh and Carlisle, and was rewarded with many magnificent landscapes, particularly with the mix of sun and cloud that characterised the day. Not that there were always places to stop the car and take advantage. Had I been able to stop on the Forth Bridge, I might have been able to capture the photo of the year (OK, I know it’s early in the year): sun rising behind the other two bridges, wreathed in mist etc. But this one will do, taken from the point at which the A701 starts its drop down into Annandale and the town of Moffat.
It was a nice sunny morning in Dundee, some 20 miles, as the crow flies, from where this picture was taken. I was not the only walker lulled into a false sense of weather security as a result. The damp splodges on this shot are unfortunate but, really, unavoidable. Anyway — here we all are on West Lomond, the highest point in the county (and ancient kingdom) of Fife. In the background, East Lomond, which I may haul myself up one of these days — but in better weather, I can assure you. (For more detail feel free to consult my County Tops blog.)
A bit of a cheap shot perhaps, but when one spends most of the day on a motorway, there aren’t always many opportunities. This does give a reasonable impression of the weather conditions in which the drive was done. Abington has become a ‘service station of choice’, purely because of timing: by the time we reach there, somewhere in the wilds of South Lanarkshire, there always seems to be the need for a drink, or lunch, or a pee. Sometimes all three.
Radiohead had a track on the Hail to the Thief album that basically screamed, ‘The raindrops!’ for a few minutes. I know the feeling. Train strikes don’t help either: there was no reason nor encouragement to leave the house today.
Taken at the same time as yesterday’s shot — and only five minutes after Monday’s. This is as near as I have ever got in 11 years to three consecutive shots at the same time of day. I swear I don’t do these things deliberately, even in the most boring periods.
Off it goes across the Irish Sea, from Heysham, the sea wall of which I was stood on as I took this shot. The Isle of Man has not yet featured on this blog although I am due a visit at some point, to bag its County Top. Maybe next year… there is still time in my life, I feel.
The first of the drives (mentioned yesterday) is completed. This was a somewhat gloomy day with occasional bursts of light, as the shot suggests. The tower sits on the edge of the moor, above Lancaster. One of those constructions built purely for the hell of it: it contains nothing, provides no service except the rooftop platform from which one can see the good view. So it counts as a folly, I suppose: I’m not even sure whose ‘jubilee’ it celebrates.
This shot is taken a few hundred yards down the canal from the one captured on Friday, and as is very clear, there’s been a considerable thaw in the meantime. But there remain remnants of ice on the water, sublimating these tendrils into the far warmer air.
Six shots in a row in Hebden Bridge, and eight of the last nine. There’ll be variety tomorrow though.
I got out of the house, though as you can see, it isn’t getting any warmer. Winter 21-22 was nothing to speak of in the UK, but the 22-23 version has some bite.
What small part of the world can be seen from our house, all looked like this today. With no reason to leave the house, I did not; picture opportunities were limited to using the long zoom to see what might be going on over the other side of the valley. They had their fires burning, anyway. This is also one of those shots that looks like I’ve taken it monochrome, but really have not; if anything I have beefed up the saturation a little.
Being 42 