Pacific Surf
On the beach in Lima, watching surfers navigate the late afternoon swells.
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Arctic Clouds
A rare break in the clouds from 39,000 feet (11.8km) above the Arctic Ocean, on the route between Washington and Seoul.
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Barbs
Seen from atop the 30m cliffs, the surf crashes into the tip of Pointe du Hoc below. The barbed wire is to keep visitors from exploring the sheer cliff face, but in 1944, it was used by the Germans to keep invading Allied forces from advancing from the sea and capturing the huge guns emplaced here. That invasion came on the morning of June 6, 1944, at great cost to the Allies, who did not know that the guns had been moved just two days prior.
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Broken Crate
After a long hiatus from posting pictures, I’m back with something somewhat new. This is a 3 shot (-2, 0, +2) HDR of the Gulf Of Mexico, processed using the amazing tools in the new Photoshop. More to come, I hope, and sooner than six months.
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La Jolla and the June Gloom
June is one of the few months that the San Diego area sees clouds, cold and even rain, and my short visit had all of the above. It was still a spectacular weekend, although I didn’t take nearly as many photos as I had hoped.
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Magic Carpet Ride
The temperature has risen considerably in the past few days, both across the country as a whole and especially as we have moved northward, leaving us to regret not having taken the time for a trip to Merzouga for a camel trek across the sand dunes of the Sahara.
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Upward Bound
Having acquired some kind of cold in Marrakech, I’ve started to cough. I hoped that good food and the warm air would snuff it out before it (and I) became a nuisance. No such luck. I awake today to begin a two-day mountain trek with a full-blown hacking cough.
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And Sometimes the Guidebook Isn’t
Despite the theft of my wallet and the ensuing hassle that caused, Lisbon (are its residents called “Lisbians”?) was nice. Any city moves up in my rankings when it can offer me an enormous meal of a whole fish, soup, potatoes and vegetables for less than five dollars.
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Leavin, on a jet plane…
As I write this from an internet cafe in Auckland, I am awaiting lunch, awaiting my bus to the airport, awaiting my flight home (fingers crossed for a cancellation). New Rule: Buses loaded with Japanese tourists, faces pressed to the glass, all holding cameras (some holding two), can appear at any time, in any location.
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An Expensive Pit Stop
On the bus to Rotorua, light is fading and we’re rolling across Middle Earth. Well, northern Middle Earth. Sheep and horses and merinos dot roadside pastures. They’re around every curve out here, and an hour south of Auckland, there have been a lot of curves.
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Having a Baaaaaahhhd Time
I normally begin a trip recounting the items, often essential, that I’ve forgotten. And while this excursion isn’t without a few minor wayward objects, the major gear is all with me. As the days tick by, however, I’m now progressively losing stuff. At this rate, it’ll be me and whatever I can stuff into my pockets.