Echoes for the Soul

There had to be a yacht in this week’s selection! We are still in Glenridding, (which means ‘The glen of overgrown bracken’, I believe), and this area is the southernmost section of the lake, where there is a café, and a car-park, and it is possible to hire boats. I wanted to photograph this lone yacht against the background of the trees in their autumn colours. The pines in the background are also catching the late afternoon sun, their lighter green contrasting with the surrounding browns and golden shades. I think the hill is St Sunday Crag, an exhilarating adventure.

Whilst autumn colours are a delight in themselves, their presence can enhance the context in which they appear, such as fields, hillsides, houses, lakes and boats. A kind of spill-over effect can take place. I believe the same is true of acts of kindness, when we reach out, perhaps in a small way, to help others. It’s amazing how a smile or an encouraging word can light up someone’s life at a particular moment. And it costs nothing to smile, to be appreciative and helpful, doesn’t it? Some people are gifted with the ability to transform people’s lives by their kindly presence. Do you know someone like that? Do you try to be such a person?

I took this cameo scene as I was walking along the footpath alongside the River Brathay, which flows from Elterwater towards Windermere. It was late summer and I was attracted by the meadowsweet flowers, which, reflected in the river, form a circle of white against the pastel shades of the grasses. The grasses are quite tall and thick, a lovely mix of greens and light browns, darker in the reflection than on the river bank. Beyond the fence the trees, small and tall, are laden with leaves, and a grazing Herdwick is just visible on the right. A pleasing scene, I think.

I found it surprising that this small clump of flowers was growing in such isolation, adding a fresh dimension to the scene, a dimension enhanced by the reflections. Nature has its own creative style. We just need to notice and appreciate what is offered to our gaze. I’m always thrilled when the water is sufficiently still to favour reflections. Often in recent weeks the wind has been a little too strong to allow this to take place. As well as in nature, we can come across interesting surprises in architecture and in people, if we are alert and open, and that it always enriching. What do you think?

This is a view across Goldrill Beck as it leaves Brotherswater. The reeds in the foreground are colourful, quite tall, and attractively bending in the wind. I like the two stone walls embracing the field where sheep are safely grazing, one quite straight, the other gently curved behind the fence. Both lead to the tree ablaze in autumn colour near the farm. Beyond the tree one can see the wall and path which leads up to Hayswater, from where one can climb up to High Street (2717 feet). The various shades of colour harmonise well, and there is even a touch of blue above the white cloud bank, with a grey cloud intruding on the right.

I like the balance, harmony and rich variety of this scene. The different layers - water, reeds, fields, trees, mountain slopes, sky - unfold with a gentle rhythm. The sheep in the field add a special touch, another aspect of the farming life so characteristic of this part of our country. I’m not sure whether the cottages would enhance the scene if the stonework were painted white, as many farmhouses are, rather than left as simple rock. What are your feelings about the picture?

Sheep are interesting creatures. In Lakeland the main variety are the Herdwicks. They are a unique breed, thought to have been roaming these fells since the tenth or eleventh century. As I was walking back to the car along the path from Devoke Water, I spied this Herdwick hiding in the bracken, but very curious about who was invading her patch. Unlike some breeds of sheep, hardy, adult Herdwicks maintain their pleasant facial, almost smiling features. As lambs they are usually black, but the colour gradually changes to attractive shades of grey and white. The foreground bracken is detailed and beautiful, the background deliberately slightly blurred.

I couldn’t help smiling when I came across this scene. There is something quite human about the way the sheep wants to be safe and secure, but also feels curious about what’s going on around it. It isn’t only children who are curious, with their oft repeated ‘What’s that?’ and ‘Why’ questions, and their excitement at a new discovery. Curiosity drives us to explore new areas of experience, and this not only in the field of science. There is always so much in our world and beyond that we don’t yet know, so much to learn, to seek to understand. Without curiosity there is no progress, no development, no fulfilment. How curious are you?

On a recent visit to the picturesque village of Glenridding which is situated at the southern end of Ullswater, I paused alongside the grounds of the Hotel, ‘The Inn on the Lake’, attracted by this autumn view. The sun was shining and the light good. This magnificent old oak was in full colour, the leaves contrasting with the green of the lawn. Aided by the small tree on the left, it frames the landing stage and yachts. Beyond the line of tinted trees, Place Fell rises steeply in the background, the golden bracken finally merging into the rock.

Autumn is probably the favourite season for photographers. There is a wonderful palette of colours and a lower angle of light, as nature is transformed. This year I felt that autumn was struggling because of the adverse weather conditions. There were many leaves on the ground, but the colour in the trees seemed slow in coming. Now the stunning colours have finally arrived. I still enjoy shuffling through leaves on the ground, like a child. But I prefer to gaze at the colours in their amazing variety. What do you like about autumn?

One of my favourite Lake District places is the southern end of Coniston water. On a recent visit I took this photo, which I really like. The foreground grasses and the trees at the side frame the picture well. I find the gentle curve of the waterline attractive. The two boats are very different but complementary: blue and yellow, one very simple in design, the other larger and more complex, with more elaborate rigging system. Both are pleasantly reflected in the moving water of the lake. I’m fascinated by the detail of the large number of trees in the background, each clearly distinguishable despite being basically the same colour. As usual they soon give way to the gently rolling hillside. The sky is featureless, I admit, but I couldn’t do anything about that! One professional photographer that I follow on YouTube prefers it that way so that the sky does not distract from the main subject of the photo. That’s doubtless true, but I do prefer some activity in the sky.

When looking at mountains, lakes, waterfalls, boats, trees and other aspects of the outdoors, I often wonder about what it is that attracts me, and why I want to take that particular scene or subject rather than another. And I’m sure that someone else interested in photography would probably prefer something different. As in so many areas of life, different people have different tastes. Some of the photos I’ve looked at in photography books written by professionals just don’t appeal to me, and I wonder what all the fuss is about. Others I consider amazing. In our encounters with other people differences in taste can be problematic; on the other hand they can be enriching and a pleasure to share. Have you a view on this topic?

I’m very fond of dandelions. It annoys me when I hear people referring to them as weeds. As winter recedes, their bright yellow flowers brighten the countryside with the promise of spring. This year they were particularly plentiful. In some places they almost formed a carpet. They are perennials, and the leaves and flowers are edible (though I’ve never tried that!) As the spring moves on into summer, this happens. Isn’t it wonderful? The detail is amazing. Their future lies here. After a while the wind causes the seeds to break up and fly through the air, possibly for miles, and a new life cycle can begin. In the photo I blurred the background to highlight the plant.

I once asked a friend to blow at the seeds so that I could get a photo of them in flight, but I wasn’t successful. That little project is on my “to do” list for the future. One aspect of outdoor photography is that it can open up many avenues of interest in nature. There is so much to notice and to learn about, and this can fill one with wonder and encourage humility. What are your thoughts about dandelions?

It was a dull day in Glenridding, but that didn’t deter these youngsters from taking to Ullswater for the afternoon. The hillside lacks vibrancy, and the distant hills are experiencing a heavy shower which will soon come down the valley. The young people are heading back to their starting point at the lakeside. The red of the canoes and the blue jackets which the children are wearing really stand out against the pale water and the green background. I like the line of reeds and the trees beyond the lake, before the hillside rises quite steeply beneath a threatening sky.

It brightened my day to catch sight of these youngsters who were clearly enjoying their adventure and learning how to sail a canoe. They are so fortunate to have this kind of opportunity in the wild outdoors. They have probably had the chance to do a little rock climbing, hiking, yachting and gorge walking too. If they enjoy it, learn some skills and get a taste for the outdoors, who knows what the future holds for them? I believe that one of the really positive aspects of modern education is the existence of outward bound centres which welcome young people and enable them to taste the joys and challenges of engaging with nature, and to develop good friendships and team skills. What do you think?

In recent weeks in the Smithills Estate where I frequently walk, a number of trees have fallen. The latest to fall caused considerable inconvenience, because it blocked one of the main footpaths. I managed to scramble between branches and carry on with my walk. The following day I came across a group of tree surgeons with sophisticated machinery who were cutting off the branches and cutting up the main trunk. I had a very interesting chat with them. A few days later this was all that remained. I like the different shades and textures of the wood. The wall is very old and very solid. Decades ago it marked the entrance to a large garden centre, now in ruins and hardly recognisable. There are a lot of fallen leaves wearing their autumn colours, but still plenty of green in the trees.

Whilst delighted to have a good photo opportunity and pleased that the footpath is again easily accessible, I did feel sad at the loss of another mighty tree which had grown and matured in this spot for well over a century. Even though several hundred remain in the woodland, it’s still a loss when one is destroyed. I often gaze in fascination and wonder at trees, each one quite distinct, with interesting patterns of branches and twigs, which somehow produce leaves unaided each year. Most of them will outlive us, which gives me something else to ponder. How do you feel about trees?

I took this photo of the River Esk beside St Catherine’s Church near the village of Boot in Eskdale. Some years ago, I took a similar photo here which was later used for the front cover of a book published by Don Bosco Publications and was also printed on canvas for our community room. There is a big difference between the two: in the earlier photo there were stepping stones all the way across the river. Now, many of them have disappeared, probably due to the river being swollen as a result of storms and heavy rainfall, suggested by the foreground logs. The gate and the path leading up the slight incline and through the wall are still in evidence, but you need to reach them first!

Disappointment! Yes, I was indeed disappointed to see what has happened, even though I had no intention of crossing the river by the stepping stones. There are several of my favourite photos that no one will ever be able to copy as a result of significant changes in the landscape. I don’t think the changes are for the better photographically. But that’s life and we make the most of it. Have you experienced any disappointments recently? How have you coped?

This photo was taken from the Llyn Gader path near the village of Rhyd-Ddu in North Wales on a beautiful afternoon. On the left is Y Garn (there is another, more challenging Y Garn near Llyn Ogwen). On the right is a much more rugged and challenging mountain which I think goes by the name Craig y Bera, though I may be mistaken. I was attracted by the farm buildings nestled in the valley. The sheep in the fields give life to the picture. I like the grasses on both sides of the path as it gently curves to the left. I wouldn’t be surprised if this path is also the early part of the route up Y Garn which can be made out on the hillside. The blue sky adds to the overall image.

Coming across this scene, I had to stop. I found it so attractive. This farmhouse isn’t painted white like many in the Lake District, but it blends in so well with the rock face in the background. Y Garn appears to hold it in the safety of its embrace. Nature and human beings seem to be at home together in this place. In the sunshine and beneath a blue sky, this is an idyllic spot. And there is the footpath. Footpaths always evoke in me the theme of life’s journey as it continues to unfold. What comes next? How will it be? Who will be involved? I trust that it will be God who holds me in His embrace on that journey. What does this scene evoke in you?

On one of my regular local walks I often meet these two horses grazing in one of the fields by the path. On this occasion, as I stood there camera in hand, they decided to come down to say “hello”. One of them seems more interested in me than does the other. I think they were a bit lonely and wanted some company. Nearby is a notice asking walkers not to feed the horses as that can do them harm, so I didn’t feel bad about not having any apples in my pocket. Most of the horses in this area are of a darker colour, usually black or chestnut, whereas these are of a pale hue. The green of the background field and trees contrasts nicely, and we have three different types of protective “barriers” prohibiting encroachment or preventing escape. They add another level of interest to the picture.

Sometime ago I watched the Rugby League Grand Final (which my home town won), and there was much talk about the human defence barriers which prevented the opposition from scoring. Like the present photo, this set me thinking about the barriers which we tend to erect in our own lives or come up against in the lives and personalities of others. We all seek to protect ourselves from harm, upset and pain; we are aware of our weak spots and areas of vulnerability. Perhaps we are not always aware of the barriers which we create. Sometimes we may find ourselves trying to understand barriers which others erect to keep us out. I think this is a fascinating area of human interaction. Why not ponder it a little today?

This is another photo from the Torver to Coniston path on a pleasant, sunny, August afternoon. I wanted the strong foreground which the rocks and grasses provided. I always find dry-stone walls interesting, with their different shapes and colours and textures. I admire the skill of those who constructed them, and I’m led to wonder where they got the stones, how they transported them, how far they had to walk to reach the workplace, and how long it took to finish the job. Here are also the ruins of a hut or small cottage, and again I think about its history in that countryside context. And yes, there is a lone tree gently dominating the scene. The hills beyond and the invisible Coniston Lake provide a background.

Whilst thoroughly enjoying the present experience, I find myself once again pondering the past. We are living in such a different world, a world of sophisticated technology, restless movement, communication, competition. And yet it is so invigorating to escape a little and enjoy and appreciate places and contexts emerging from the past. I believe that this path was probably used initially by the farming community and by the workers in the nearby slate quarry. Without realising it, they have provided us with new possibilities for physical exercise, mental relaxation, space and freedom. I wonder what our legacy might be.

On my latest visit to the River Brathay near Elterwater in the Lake District this interesting feature caught my eye. It appears to be a weathered stump of an old tree rooted in the waters of the river, as it heads to a famous waterfall known as Skelwith Force. The stump gives life to a variety of delicate grasses which stand out effectively against the dark shades of the gently flowing river. I really like the vague, blurred reflections, with the shades of green and a touch of yellow in the background. The light brings the scene to vibrant life.

This was a small scene which could be easily missed when walking by. I’m so glad that I noticed it. It is so beautiful, almost mystical. I really like the fact that reflections fill the water. The reflection of the main subject is so attractively blurred. I am amazed at the grasses—so much life emanating from a dead stump, such a marvellous transformation. Presenting the photo for Echoes has made me think about other “death” situations, situations of failure, illness or great difficulty, which I’ve encountered, and which became transformed into situations of life, including, of course, the experience of Jesus. Have you had a similar experience?

I took this photo in the evening at the Conwy harbour in North Wales. There were many yachts in the harbour, but I felt attracted to this one, which was moored a little away from the others. With two masts and a cabin, it seems more solid than the average yacht, suited for work as well as for pleasure. I like the reflections on the water, and the colours of the boat, especially the wooden strips. It’s hard to make out the name, but it seems to be “Cigano”, and the boat is registered in Poole, a town miles away on the south coast. It blends in very well with the houses and trees in the background to produce a harmonious picture.

I think that usually I must arrive at seaside or lakeside places at the wrong time, for the yachts are normally moored rather than out sailing the waters. There are some places where there are so many boats “parked” that I wonder if they ever get used at all. “Cigano” doesn’t give me that impression, and I immediately felt an attraction for it. It has, I feel, a strong identity and I would like to find out more about it. The world of yachts, like that of the biker community, is not my world, but I do appreciate it. What do you think about sub-cultures like this?

In a recent Echo I mentioned Cadair Idris, which did not feature in the photo I was using. Here it is! The mountain is 893 metres high and is best accessed from the other side. The path leads us into the scene. I like the colours in the foreground rock, and the green grass, purple heather and yellow Birdsfoot Trefoil which balance it on the other side of the path. The dry-stone wall is interesting; it seems to have been roughly constructed with rocks of various sizes, shapes and colours. You can climb over the old stile or take the easy route through the new iron gate in order to access the northern shore of LLynnau Cregennen or turn left and take the path (just visible) up Pared-y-Cefn-Hir. The heather beyond the wall is so bright and attractive. There are a few Scots pines on the island and also on the hillside beyond. The rock face of Cadair Idris looks forbidding. I like the way the flanks of Tyrrau Mawr fade into the mist and cloud. This is a lovely place and was quiet and peaceful on this occasion.

This was a new place for me, further south in Snowdonia than I usually venture. The narrow road up from the main road was demanding, to put it mildly. However, I think it was well worth the effort. This location I found very beautiful. The atmosphere was peaceful, and the mix of mountain, lake, trees and vegetation was wonderful. I believe the photo catches something of the beauty and variety of the place. It was one of those places where one could linger for hours. I hope you can share my enthusiasm.

I like to take photos of trees, especially if the light is kind. This scene is to be found on the path from Torver village heading towards the Old Man of Coniston and Dow Crag. It was a beautiful day, with blue sky and bright, warm sunshine. The trees are heavy in leaf. I was particularly attracted by play of light on the path, ferns and grasses. There are fascinating contrasts, and there is a gentleness to the scene, I feel.

When thinking of photography I’m aware of my liking for footpaths. They usually lead through beautiful and evocative places by streams and lakes and waterfalls, up and down hillsides, through woodlands. Most paths have been there for a long time, the result of many others treading that way. Some paths have been specially cultivated to aid walking and prevent erosion, and a lot of effort has been exerted in constructing in difficult places what seem like staircases of rocks. I found a new local path only the other day. On maps of Lakeland and North Wales the paths are clearly indicated. But I think that as well as being of practical use, paths can be symbolic, reminding us of life’s many journeys, rich and challenging experiences. What do you think?

This photo was taken from a lay-by on the country road to Eskdale from the village of Seathwaite. It is a beautiful road to drive. The foreground here is almost entirely moorland, used for sheep to graze. I like the series of stone walls, and the track which leads towards the farm on the lower left amidst the trees, suggesting human activity in the area. There seem to be some outhouses too. In the background is a series of crags: Green Crag on the right (about 1400 feet), and Crook Crag in the centre. I suspect that they are neglected by walkers because of the higher fells like Haystacks and Scafell beyond. The play of light and shade is interesting, and it’s nice to have a touch of blue in the sky.

What I find attractive in this scene is the sense of space. Apart from the farm, there is a vast openness devoid of humans. Not being a city person, I find this quite compelling. It would be possible to walk for hours without meeting another person, I suspect. I don’t think I’m antisocial, but I do value having space to think, ponder and pray. Space like this invites contemplation. It also increases an awareness of how small we are, and yet loved by God. Are you a space person?