Loch Rannoch III - the Water

Arrived at the lochside farm cottages and there it was, faintly shining, the omen for the week:

"Airborne water".

Most of the active part of the week I spent walking. Along the loch, up the hills, through the forestry, beside the rivers and burns and almost constantly through the bogs. Whoever invented waterproof trainers was wasting their time. Whoever invented waterproof socks was a genius.

Wandering through trackless wastes, unnavigable forest and bottomless moss bogs, I eventually found Killichonan Burn. On the map was marked "Here there be Monsters" and "Waterfalls".

[ No monsters found.]

Another day we stumbled across a loch that was sheltered from the usual wind that week. On Loch Rannoch waves and white horses were becoming the norm.

Higher up the hill a much small lochan was imitating a millpond.

The waterfall at Kinloch Rannoch was generating unusual symmetry with lots of angular shaped lumps of rock showing through the cascade. 

In the centre of the loch is a Crannog, Eilean nam Faoileag. The Crannog has been dated to around AD 1290, so it's been around a while. It used to be much bigger until they raised the level of the loch by about 2m in the last 30 years. A submerged curved sandbank gave secret access to it. There are apparently references to occupation of the island from the middle of the 15th century to the middle of the 17th. The tower is a 19th century folly built by a Baron Granbley.  [Sounds like a made up name to me. :-) ]

Finally, the sun came out briefly while I was paddling about trying to get a good angle on this bendy jetty - socks working, feet still dry.

Loch Rannoch II - Hydro Electric

Scotland has loads of Hydro Elecric schemes and Loch Rannoch has it's share. Decided one day to bike up the forestry roads and visit one of the smaller water catchments. At the top of the track there was a boggy path which went on towards an aqueduct. I didn't take any pictures of the mud.

Eventually I found the dam that diverted water into the aquaduct.

Just a few metres along the way was one of last year's antlers hanging onto the mud. On the downhill side the soft muddy bank was reinforced by wooden stakes.

At the end of my small aqueduct the water joined some much bigger sources of water which arrived through tunnels [ Hydro info. ] The tunnelers in the main were made up from British, Polish, Czechs, German and Italian former prisoners of war, and other Europeans. Their nickname - "The Tunnel Tigers".

The aquaduct contours into the building from the right hand side of the picture - as I did on a mountain bike.

The end result is the contribution to the 'National Grid'. The water in the background went off to the next dam and turbines, to generate more electricity.

Loch Rannoch I - The Animals

Stayed for a week in a farm cottage half way along Loch Rannoch. The farm animals were doing a very good impersonisation of pets. The ducks swam in circles on their wee pond pretending to be afraid of me while arguing with each other.

The cockerel was very proud.

The Jacob's sheep were a bit Celtic looking, with some woad-like horn painting.

In the fields by the loch, wild geese were finishing their evening meal. Rather than fly and waste energy as I tried to sneak up quietly, they just sidled away. Invariably keeping one eye on me and one eye on where they were going. A mixture of Canada geese and Greylag.

This guy was crossing the road when I almost flattened it with the bike. Colourful, but painfully shy.

This pheasant was yet another camera shy potential dinner. Every time I tried to focus he skittered away another couple of feet further into the dim trees with me clambering, slipping and sliding up the bank. I need a much longer, faster lens.

Beamish - Stepping back.

A weekend a way visiting Durham finished with stopping in at the Beamish Museum. It's a 'living' museum celebrating life and times in the North East (of England) in the 1820s, 1900s and 1940s.

First 'exhibit' was Pockerley Old Hall showing the home of a wealthy farmer in the 1880s. The main eye-catcher was the cold store / pantry with next week's food - in the case of the game birds, ageing nicely.

Down the road was the colliery and the associated engines in various states of patchy rust - looked like old leaves plastered on the metalwork at first glance. Inside the engine shed, restoration produced a bit of gleam and shine.

An old drift mine entrance caught my eye but, as it was still winter season, no trips down the mine were on offer, just a warning sign in the distance.

A pit village complete with school was next, with a gleaming magic lantern centre stage and various banners round the walls. The village was of the 1900s and surprisingly the wee shop sold a not too bad cup of coffee to passersby.

Up the road, careering into the 1940s, was the Home Front farm showing rural North East during the war. Cumberland Sausage in Stottie was our fast food choice from the wartime kitchen. The woman serving was in sartorial sympathy, but the hot soup in the modern cardboard cup was shocking.

Other stars of the farm were horses, pigs, chickens, ducks and geese. The horses were headfirst in their dim stalls, pigs were not playing ball - these two were desperate to be cartured on digital celluloid.

Harmonium man was busking for the 'Friends of Beamish' but perhaps he was secretly supplementing is pension.

The huge open cast mining machine would no doubt be dwarfed today but it was still big enough to scoop up a couple of Sunday afternoon kids.

The market town of the 1900s shortly before the first World War was our last stop as we were beginning to be time travelled out.The shops were interesting but too dim for handheld stuff. A number of items in sale were uncomfortably familiar. A quick visit to the Dentists house produced a one eared teddy bear, a little milk jug with cover and a dusty old camera.

The Saddlers display didn't have have many twee horse brasses but the shiny Pack Saddle (that's what I think it is anyway) was near enough the window so that it wasn't too shoogly.

Finally we called in at the printers and were told to mind our ps and qs, watch out for the lower case letters and to quoin a phrase.  According to 'tinternet, the last phrase wasn't coined by printers at all. Seems like there a bit of debate about it.

Spain, a New Year - Troisième partie

 More than half way through the trip, Christmas past, without any psychological damage and the sun is still (generally) shining. Cool wind continued, but we were on the edge of humungous low pressure systems that were battering northern Europe so couldn't really complain too loudly. If you have a late breakfast, then book reading outside in a sheltered spot is more than pleasant.

From a bird watching tower, the tall grasses don't obscure the view of the lagoons.

Water either side, but the only a view is of the hills a few miles away while on the cycle path/road through the nature reserve.

Couple of seeds in the low sun - I'm definitely getting faster at taking these sorts of shots. No more than 6-7 minutes to get an OK picture. 'Faster' is relative term.

Wandering about Guardamar we managed to find a big market - bought nothing - a sculpture, and a Three Kings display ready for the 6th of January celebration - nice camels.

A cycle ride to Callosa de Segura yielded a very quiet town but with bars full of locals having a good time by the sounds. A large church with tall blank walls and a huge door was so hemmed in by the surrouding town that this was the most interesting shot. Probably very ornate inside.

In Nijar, Irene had to photograph this garden. This, I imagine is what typical veg gardens in Sens-de-Bretagne look like (could be wrong).

Up the hill fron Nijar was a tiny mountain village called Huebro. On the way a small mountain flower, and in the village, huge open cisterns used to capture water in the not so distant past. These were more or less empty - maybe they fill up in January/February.

A long legged beetle was nearly run over by the bikes - but no insects were actually hurt during the capture of this picture.

 Finally, the more touristy town of Alicante. A huge tree with aerial roots and white doves/pigeons picking at the fallen fruit. Large exotic flowers on the trees, steep steps climbing up towards the castle, reconstructed arches that made nice shapes but not much more, and, on the way down, a look backwards.