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Heaven, or Hell? Up close to the world’s third highest peak.

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” Whether we regard our situation as heaven or hell depends on our perception. ”

That quote resonated with me just a week ago whilst camped in deep snow below the worldǃÙs third highest peak, Kanchenjunga. I was coming at the peak from the west, on the Nepali side. To the east lay the Sikkim region of India, to the north Tibet. It had been a tough few days, a typhoon over the Bay of Bengal had brought three days of heavy rain in the valley below and a lot of snow

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Going large (format) in Bolivia

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IǃÙve owned the large format camera for perhaps 20 years, but for many of those years it languished in a box stashed in the loft. Digital came along and film was dead, right? Well, wrong actually. I started to use the camera again five years ago and now could not imagine going on a trip without it.

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Thoughts on the Anthropocene

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ItǃÙs official now, that the current era is the Anthropocene ÇƒÏ ÇƒÚThe Age of ManǃÙ. Wind back the clock to the late 1760s when a writer called Thomas Gray wrote a journal of his tour of the English Lakes. The result was what was to become the first true ǃÚguide to the lakesǃ٠and a very popular one at the time. Last weekend, GrayǃÙs guide was one of several shared and discussed at The Wordsworth Trust.

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Being all at sea

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Ten days of sailing along Scotland«ÉŸs northwest coast, past the Torridonian giants of Stac Pollaidh, Suilven and Quinag, and into and out of lochs with sheltered bays for quiet nights. The scenery here is not just jaw-droppingly beautiful, it«ÉŸs also one of the richest landscapes, in geological terms, on the planet.

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Watching bees and other things

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This particular bee is flying heavily from one clover to the next. It seems to take a random zig-zag path, led on by scent, but maybe there is a plan that I, as a non-bee, can have no idea about. Above its pollen-laden body, meadow grasses sway, sorrel shimmers red-green, oxeye daisies turn to the sun, and the fells climb green to the skyline. ThereǃÙs constant birdcall echoing through the valley, and the riverǃÙs gentle song is like breath, always there.

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