My lungs reduced to waterballoons. Calves set on fire. Flecks of snow turned to stray sparks across the skin. The wind icing my bones. The euphoria of looking out from flying lands. Beds of moss abounding. The sun a welcome friend checking in. Sips of water tickling my throat. Some harsh hiking this time around. Continue reading “Highland Hiking: Loch Brandy”
Hello all! I thought I’d hop into the passenger seat for this post and introduce you to Marvin Beatty, a Canadian photographer based in Castlegar, British Columbia!
This man is surrounded by beauty and he knows it! With his faithful Nikon D70 and two favourite lens—an 18-200mm VR and a 60mm—or his new Canon T5i, Marvin has captured an array of magnificent scenes, which you’ll get to see below! Continue reading “Marvin Beatty’s Canadian Photography”
Ahahaha. This is still super funny after an afternoon of editing and a night of fitful sleeping. Sorry for not including a write-up when I first posted this, I was too busy slugging off to bed with a faucet for a nose, a head full of cotton and limbs creaking in protest… Jeez I sound like a scarecrow left in the rain!
This video was totally worth the push though. I might have constantly laughed myself into coughing fits, and the resulting soft berating from my partner, but this was definitely worth it.
They say laughter is healthy and I’m feeling better already! So whether you’re ill or healthy, active or taking a break, I hope you find this video as funny as I do and it helps brighten your day!!!!! Enjoy! Continue reading “Goofing Off At Go Ape Aberfoyle”
Ben Venue had me swimming up the mountain but Loch Ordie was happy to bathe me in sunshine! It was a precious time for photography and I was enthralled by the textures of the landscape—from the jagged shadows resting on the trees to the glass lochs to the flowers peeping up from the rubble.
Feast your eyes dear reader, on some of the simple wonders I found while wandering around Loch Ordie with the Tayside Young Walkers.
Warning: I was feeling creatively descriptive when I wrote this post. Drink some wine first. Continue reading “Dreaming at Loch Ordie, Scotland”
The land slurped up my boots with each step. Squish. Squish. Squelch. A bizarre thought whipped through my mind—the soggy ground was french-kissing my feet. And it was doing a terrible job.
I shuddered, shooing the idea away. It was my first adventure into a bog and I wasn’t about to let my imagination construct a weird relationship between us. The rain coated me in a shimmering shield, not that the sun was out to give it a shine. Why was I climbing this mountain again?
Oh yeah. For the warm company, the stories and the small surprises. Continue reading “Climbing Ben Venue, Scotland”
J and my sister had long dissolved into the mist ahead of me. I didn’t mind. I was moseying along at my own pace.
Settling into the stroll, I shoved my hands into my pockets and let my eyes rove. Aside from the squelch of the mud sucking at my boots the scene was a blank space. A bush of thorns struck into the path from the left. It faded away as silently as it had appeared. Then a fence corralled me through a mystery field. Sick of being confined I veered for a dip in the wire. That’s when I spotted it. Continue reading “Modern Ruins Photography”
One day I want to experience a mist thick enough to conceal my outstretched hand. It will be the grandfather of all the foggy nights described in the fairytales of my youth. Nothing will entertain my sight except my vivid imagination. I almost experienced that sensation recently. The fog settling in to greet me at the Cliffs of Dover was a youngster aiming to please, but not quite legendary. Still, as it swallowed up my sister and gluttonously gobbled down my partner too I found myself left in an impressively tiny sphere of existence. Soon my only company was the squelch of mud under my boots and the soft smell of wild grass bathing in dew.
Until the shadows began to emerge from the misty curtains.
As we climbed higher the vegetation began to scatter. The land was slowly balding. Rocks jutted from the ground around scraggly shrubs. As the road curved I realized we would be piercing the crown of rock. Mount Teide had loomed in our discussions of places to visit for weeks, but my partner’s parents had wanted to wait for the veil of calima to dissipate.
This was finally it! I’d be travelling into my first volcano crater in moments! My heart began to flutter as fast as the screeching wind ripping past the car.
Then the wall swallowed us up and spit us out into the devil’s arena.
When it comes to describing the pristine landscapes of foreign hotspots one can’t help but use the same words as a vacation pamphlet: sun, nature, peaceful, vast, monumental and exotic. These words brimmed over the valley walls surrounding the village of Masca and my lips ached to whisper them. I swallowed and looked harder.
Precarious. Stubborn. A stronghold. I saw a landlocked ship among the geo-waves. Hidden among the giant crests, a green ark rested for eternity, carrying a small clutch of humanity and gardens. At its prow, an imposing figure proclaimed the direction to the sea. Is this the ribbed turtle that carries the world upon its back?
Skidding on the loose soil I wobbled, flapping my arms to regain balance. Just a meter ahead of me my sister carried on upwards ignoring my bleating while jolting infrequently through her own noodle dance. After a few seconds I successfully fought off gravity’s affection and managed to acquire the proper vertical position once more. The last few steps to the top were simple, but I still had to chase my breath. Overhead the blue dome sky stretched on to forever. The clouds seemed to reach out from infinity. As the eternal hills and silent river posed for my eyes the trees continued their seasonal wardrobe change without pause.