Just photos today!! Yes we got lost on some magical beaches and although I kept up my column writing for the News and Star, the old blog was a step too far. Wifi is scarce in these parts, the west coast of Galicia. So I'm posting some of my last column on waiting for the counting of . . .
So the mountain peaks were still covered in snow as we drove further down into Spain and headed west to begin our meander down the Douro Valley. After a couple of days in Zamora, a beautiful historic town. We crossed the border into Portugal at the village of Miranda de Douro. What . . .
It's almost impossible to stop yourself snapping everything that moves when you arrive in a new place. I am trying to be more disciplined but still when I got to upload my first batch of images, there were over 500! So today let me begin with a taster of the colour and textures of Northern . . .
I couldn't help myself! I was dipping into some old travel stories when I got lost in dreams and memories. One of the joys of photography, is that when you study a place through your own lens, you remember details, feelings, smells, weather. I never seem to forget where I was and what . . .
This is from my journal, NYC, 2016..... "Everyday I meet the same people as I walk from the subway to my room on Second Avenue. I'm shy with the camera because I'm really only relaxed with Mother Nature as my collaborator. She's a little bit scarce around the streets of NYC so I have to . . .
You couldn't be looking out into Blacksod Bay and fail to think of Rescue 116. The helicopter went down here last year, 2017, while on a mission in bad weather conditions. All four crew were lost. You can see Blackrock Island where the incident occurred from . . .
It is almost by accident that I am here in Lisbon this week. But I have always wanted to come. My eyes are relieved to have this change of scene from green Ireland and the Saint Patrick's Day shenanigans. Instead Alfama, where we are based is warm and peachy. No shortage of washing . . .
We had just arrived in Northern Brittany. Our first stop was to be a field on the edge of the Ile Callot. You get there by crossing a causeway at low tide. When the tide returns and the day trippers go home, there are only a few occupied houses and the wilderness left. And ourselves of . . .
For whatever we lose (like a you or a me), It’s always our self we find in the sea. -e.e. cummings During the last week in France, Mont St. Michel becomes visible on the horizon and gets closer every day. It towers over the bay, between . . .
I regularly witness people come to rural Ireland and begin to unravel some of the stress of their lives. Urban living for all of its convenience can lack a connection with nature and land. I've seen this with Irish people in particular, that their being is soothed by landscape. At a deep . . .