Whitley Bay Sunrise

It's been a few months since I captured my last sunrise shots, so with those very early Summer starts out of the way it seemed like as good a time as any to get back into it. From October onwards you can catch a good sunrise at a sensible time where you're not setting the alarm clock between 3 and 4am - the silly hours! Mind you, when you have the option of lying in a warm comfy bed, versus getting out of it on a freezing cold winter morning to take sunrise shots, well...some folk might say it's a 'No brainer'. But, anyone who's done sunrise before will tell you there's only one way to get those nice 'Crack of dawn' shots, and that is to get out there bright and early and do the necessary. Any dedicated photographer would not think twice about an early rise if he or she thought there was a good chance of bagging some good sunrise shots, and that's where I'm at these days, the alarm clock is only 'Enemy' on work days, he he (wink). That said, there's been a few times when I've turned out and there's been no sunrise to be had. Low cloud cover often kills the opportunity stone dead, so best do your homework the night before. I always check the weather forecast, sunrise times and tide tables so I can plan where I intend to visit the following morning, based on the information gathered.

Today I visited St. Mary's Island near Whitley Bay on the Northumberland Coast. This is a very photogenic part of the North-East coast and one that I've visited a handful of times in the past. The lighthouse is the focal part of this location and it dominates the stretch of coastline and can be seen from many miles away. The lighthouse is accessible via a causeway when the tide is low, but cut off once the tide returns. The rocks around the lighthouse are a minefield if you aren't wearing appropriate footwear at low tide, but on the plus side they come in handy when you're after some foreground interest. I came equipped with me wellies so I had no problems in that department. So, all I was waiting for was a good sunrise. The key to a good shot lies in the actual sunrise itself and the colours it presents, not only as the sun rises, but during that fifteen minute window beforehand. I was set up and raring to go, working with the following equipment...

Canon 7D body

18-135mm EF-S lens

Manfrotto tripod

Manfrotto ball & head grip

Lee foundation kit

Lee soft graduated ND filters, 0.3, 0.6, 0.9

Wireless remote control unit

(oh, and a Snickers bar!)

The first shot I took was captured shortly before sunrise. Taking my base exposure from the foreground sand, I then took a reading from the brightest part of the sky and made a mental note of the difference in f-stops. I knew that no compensation for the difference would burn out the detail in the sky completely, so out came the filters. I attached the filter holder to begin with, using a 67mm adaptor ring and screwing it into the lens thread. Then the filters came into play as I dropped in a combination of 0.9 and 0.6 Neutral Density grads. A quick test shot gave me the result I was waiting for - this is the actual test shot (above, shot 1). Both filters were positioned just above the horizon to hold back the detail in the sky. It worked quite nicely.

My second shot was taken a few minutes after sunrise - this was from a different spot, further back near the ageing wooden groynes that head out to sea. This is where those wellies came in handy as I was more than ankle-deep in sea water - something that the other photographers nearby never had the privelege of. Slippery seaweed lay underfoot at almost every step, so I was more than aware that falling flat on my arse was more than a possibilty as I negotiated the rocks in search of more angles to shoot from. My final viewpoint was right back off the rocky foreshore, next to the wooden groynes. The fractured rocks in front of me drew me instantly into my next shot. By this time the sun had been up around 15 minutes so the light had changed dramatically since my arrival at 6am. The 0.9 grad was removed and I was now running with only the 0.6 as the foreground base exposure was much lighter due to the sun hitting the rocks directly in front of me. This composition took in everything that was on offer - I quite like this one, although once again there was another shift in detail where the sky is concerned. Not much in the way of colour, just a bland greyish sky with highlights to the far right. The foreground makes up for this though in a busy kind of way. It wasn't long before I called it a day and went back to he car where a nice flask of coffee was waiting for me. I sat guzzling away in an attempt to warm myself up whilst listening to Smooth Radio before heading back home via the Tyne Tunnel. And so, my first sunrise shots for over six months and now, with the addition of my new Lee Filters, I'm looking forward to lots more early rises to improve my technique in this kind of photography. I'm already planning a visit to Bamburgh Castle, further up the Northumberland coast, probably around late October 2011. Until then I'll leave you with these three shots, which are hopefully just the start of a new collection of sunrise photography that will only get better.

Throws down the gauntlet...

Thanks for visiting.

Ash

Angel Of The North, Gateshead

Static objects like the Angel Of The North are very straightforward subjects to photograph. As always, the light controls the conditions and the photographer controls exposure. A combination of correctness in both areas can yield a great final image, and although there's no such thing as 'correct' weather, as this is entirely open to interpretation based on the type of efffect you wish to achieve. There's no effects in these images though - they are simple daylight shots with plenty of colour under ideal summer weather conditions. As always, I try to include people in my Angel shots to give a sense of scale - The Angel Of The North rises 70 feet, but to anyone who hasn't seen the sculpure up close they obviously don't know the sheer size of it, hence the addition of people as extra's. I shot this first image from an angle that I previously hadn't attempted - crouching low under bushes in a small wasteland near the perimeter path. An overhang of leaves at the top, and grass sprouting from the bottom, frames the Angel quite nicely. There was a lot of broken cloud which sheltered the sun from the Angel every few seconds, so I had to act sharp and release the shutter precisely as the sun shone through, bringing out the natural rusty colour in my subject.

After switching postion to the far side of the Angel I heard voices nearby. People were walking up the path and into my shot - time to add that sense of scale - My second shot shows what I'm talking about. I waited a while longer, hoping more people would come along and lend themselves to my shots, but no-one showed up. Once again I heard voices and got myself ready for some more photography, but this time I got more than I bargained for. A coach load of German tourists had arrived at the site and within a few seconds the place was flooded with them, but this was no good to me, the shot would have been far too busy with that lot in frame. No thanks. Hoards of camera's were clicking away as I packed up my camera and made my way back to the car park. They seemed to be enjoying their experience so who was I to complain, eh. The 'Jormans' have landed!!!

My third shot was taken later that day when I returned to the site after a brief visit to Newcastle. Once again I waited for human intervention, which came in the shape of a mother with young child. The mother disappeared behind the legs of the Angel, leaving the youngster as an extra in my shot once again - now that's what I call scale! The only filtration used on each shot was a 67mm Circular Polarizer (Hoya Pro-1 Digital), rotated accordingly for maximum effect on the sky. All shots were taken handheld, on 'Shutter Speed Priority' (1/30th), using an ISO setting of 100. My trusty old 7D rig done the necessary once again. Can't be without it these days - it's a breeze to work with!

Coming next - Whitley Bay Sunrise - getting to grips with my brand new set of Lee filters.
Cheers, Ash

Herrington Country Park, Sunderland

A former Durham pit site, which was reclaimed and developed into the now known Herrington Country Park, the park is one of the largest in Sunderland and is home to a large selection of events including the Annual County Show, Marie Curie daffodil walk, diabetes UK walk in the park and many more. The park has cycle routes, boating lake, cycle/skate park, large amphitheatre created from grassed embankments and numerous sculptures/art works set out around the park. Herrington Country Park was once the site of Herrington Colliery, which closed in 1985. By that time the colliery waste heap was the largest in the North East and cast in the shadow of Penshaw monument, it was transformed into one of the premier parks of the North East.

A typical summers day presented me with an ideal opportunity to take some shots of the park from nearby Penshaw Hill. This vantage point was ideal as I had the bright sun behind me, bathing the park in light for long spells due to the sparse scattering of clouds. My first shot was taken between two pillars of Penshaw Monument as I faced south towards the park. A shadow of the Monument was cast across the grass embankment in front of where I stood, which was an ideal subject to fill the foreground, which would have been fairly bland without sun and shadow. This shot only shows a small section of Herrington Country Park, which lies to the right of the pond which is seen in the distance. Farm fields make up the bulk of this landscape shot and these are situated between the park and Offerton, just off the A183 single carraigeway. My second shot shows a larger section of the park although this, in fairness, is only a quarter of the actual size of the park. I was drawn to the landscape in front of me when composing the shot, opting not to pan too far to the right where the bright sun was 'Burning out' the sky. Once again, both shots were taken on a Canon 7D with a 18-135mm EF lens. A circular polarizer gave a nice effect to the cloud formation, adding some saturation to the blue sky in the process. The polarizer is a must for landscape shots - mine being a 67mm HOYA PRO 1-DIGITAL affair, picked up on ebay as a used item, but mint condition nevertheless. If you've just bought your first DSLR and fancy knocking out a few landscape shots (Ross!), then give one of these filters a try, they're worth shelling out for.

I'll be back soon. I'm trying to catch up on a backlog of blog images for you, including more low-light work in the shape of a Whitley Bay Sunrise, Latrigg Fell Walk in the English Lake District, Sunrise over Keswick and a few Angel Of The North shots. Until then...

Ash

Another Fell Walk - Catbells, English Lake District

After an enjoyable fell walking debut (Blencathra) in the English Lake District, I was more than keen to visit the National Park for another visit to the fells. During our recent 'Blencathra Weekender' I made a mental note of the position of the sun during different times of the day, keeping in mind the best area's of the Northern Fells where the sun would be behind me. My photography rarely involves shooting into the sun during the day - I only attempt this type of shot at dawn or dusk, so an idea of what I wanted was quickly forming in my head. I wanted some 'Big Shots', broken cloud, blue sky, fells bathed in sunshine, a lake or two - not asking for much is it? Naturally I followed the weather forecast during the days leading up to my visit, even though the Lake District weather can be very unpredicable and changeable to say the least. I was to make this trip on my own - no family, no friends, no workmates, just me. I find this tactic works best for photography - total focus, no distractions. I made the trip West along the A66 once again, a route I've become very familiar with lately. My homework was done and I'd selected another of the Northern Fells for my second climb - Catbells, a simple ascent with rewarding views across Derwentwater towards Blencathra and Skiddaw towards the Solway Firth - on a clear day of course. And a clear day was what I had. I arrived at Keswick mid-day, then made the twenty-minute journey via Portinscale to Catbells, parking in a nearby field for the sum of 'Three Squid'. With no OS map to follow I figured that the old-fashioned 'Follow The Sheep' tactic should do the trick. With camera in the backpack and drinks onboard it was time to leave the motor behind and begin the trek to the top.

From the makeshift car park I headed up a slight incline and over the cattle grid, which brought me to my starting point. According to the research I'd done the day before, an 'Obvious zig-zag path' is where I should have started my ascent up Catbells, but it wasn't so obvious to me - I missed the bugger completely! Obvious path? What Obvious path? Ah well, I found myself walking along a straight path along the bottom of the fell, just above the road, which I later learned was the 'Allerdale Ramble'. As I walked further it was clear to me that I was heading away from the Catbells summit and towards the nearby peak of High Spy, which is joined to Catbells at the top via Maiden Moor. Between the two peaks, along the Allerdale Ramble I noticed a very steep path to the top, so off I went, stopping to take a few photographs at more than regular intervals. The first shot (above) was taken where the Allerdale Ramble meets the steep path that I chose to climb - a panoramic effort looking over Derwentwater towards Blencathra. The second shot (shown here), and undoubtedly my favourite of the visit, was taken on the approach to the first scramble on High Spy. I remember stopping for a short breather before beginning the scramble, looking behind me along the Maiden Moor ridge. It was an excellent view, offering just about everything I'd visualised in my head a couple of days earlier. There was even a couple of fell walkers in the frame, finishing off a spectacular view. No point in admiring it for too long though - time to transfer this landscape vista to Compact Flash!

After negotiating a very straightforward scramble on High Spy I paused for a few more shots across the Newlands Valley. Another viewpoint that offered plenty in the way of landscape.
Sheep sat around me as I ran off a few frames. They appeared totally at ease in my company, which is not surprising considering the volume of people that cross their path on a daily basis. Mind you, with the wind creeping up and a steep drop below, I wasn't hanging around for too long so I scrambled up the final outcrop to the summit, where at least 20 people had already gathered. It was blowing a gale up top. A young lad was entertaining folk
by riding a monoclycle on the rocky summit. The entertainment value lay in the fact that he couldn't even perch his arse on the seat before being blown to one side, at least six times. He gave up eventually. Top marks for effort though.

After spending 20 minutes or so on the summit of High Spy, I made my way back down to Maiden Moor via the double rock scramble I had managed earlier. Once on the Moor I took the path that lead me along towards Catbells summit. More excellent views across Derwentwater and Bassenthwaite towards the Solway Firth in a North-Westerly direction. The sun had gone behind large clouds by this time, offering very little to no sunlight on the surrounding fells. Causey Pike stood to my left, looking every bit the next mountain on my list. Surprising how cold it gets up top when the sun goes in. I chatted to an American couple on the Catbells summit before reaching another rock scramble on the way down to the car park. They struggled with the scramble but I wasn't ready to hang around as the sun disappeared completely behind more cloud. Once over the rocks I paused to get my bearings, amazed at how tiny the cars looked in the field below, even though I was almost half way down the hill and now walking a zig-zag path. Ohhhh, so this is the zig-zag path I was supposed to follow on the way up !!! Ah well, better to be going down it than climbing up - it was a nightmare on the old joints! Two hours after leaving the car, I was back. By this time the sun had re-appeared and at ground level the heat was sweltering. Time to sit and take a well earned breather. Cool bag came out of the boot - freezing cold Coca-Cola went down without touching the sides. Another enjoyable walk - stroke - climb - stroke - scramble.
And that was that. Job done. Second one ticked off the list.

A few days later I sent my Catbells shot (no. 2, above) to Tyne-Tees Television, who presented it on one of their daily weather bulletins. The video clip can now be viewed in the monitor below - press the arrow on the control panel to view the footage. Until the next time, cheers!
Ash

Lakes Weekender (Blencathra) - The Final Word

The Blencathra blog ends here with a last offering of photo's and stats from our Lakes Weekender. It was a very enjoyable weekend and although it got off to a wet and miserable start the weather couldn't have been any better from Saturday morning onwards. Sunday morning involved a drive to Threlkeld where we parked up and walked to Keswick - an eight mile round trip! We had Sunday lunch and downed some beer before we returned to the car and made our way home, via Alston, one the top ten motorists roads in Great Britain. On our return to work the following day we reflected on a great weekend and started to plan another trip to the Lake District. Now, some 3 months later, I can reveal that we will be returning to the great outdoors once again, to climb Skiddaw, the fourth highest mountain in the Lake District National Park. This will take place in mid-October, so stay tuned for another account of our Lakes Weekender Part 2, here on my blog page. To finish off I'd like to show you a few more photographs from a collection of over 300, all taken during our Blencathra trip. Here are a few stats too...

Until the next time,
Ash

Statistics:
Start: Scales Farm
Start (OS ref): NY343269
Map (1:25,000): OL5 English Lakes North East
Parking: Lay-by at side of A66
Distance: 7.7 miles (12.5 km)
Time: 4 hours
Difficulty: Very Hard
Climbing: 869 metres of ascent
Hazards: Grade 1 Scramble on Sharp Edge

Lakes Weekender (Blencathra) - Sharp Edge Scramble

'It sounded like a good idea at the time'...

Not having a good head for heights, I anticipated a big challenge ahead of me as we arrived at Sharp Edge, the intimidating obstacle between Scales Tarn and the summit of Blencathra. Infact, to call it an obstacle is putting it very mildly - Sharp Edge looked very much the Bad Boy, even from ground level on the A66. As we arrived at the impending scramble, I was continuously weighing up my chances of getting through this ordeal in one piece. Would I scramble across the ridge safely or would I chicken out completely and walk back down the mountain in shame? We had now reached the start of the ridge. Time to scramble! Feeling scared but not willing to be beaten, I began to advance across the ridge proper. There was a gentle introduction to the ridge as the sides gradually begin to get steeper and longer. So far so good. Everything was going smoothly, then we came to crux. The part of the ridge where there was nothing to hold on to. The trouble with a hard part like this is that once you have crossed it there is no easy way of going back. After what seemed like a lifetime of indecision I made the move into no-mans land, my arse twitching as I went. Gingerly I stepped across the wobbly bit and from there onto a small flat bit from which I could grasp hold of some rock with all the strength that my hands could muster. The whole experience was down to climbing ability and making a series of decisions that could prove very costly should a wrong move be made. An elaborate chess game? Not really - not when your life is at stake!

Along the traverse we reached a gully. Davey and Lee were out of sight at this point and heading across the ridge quickly, as if someone at yon end was giving cash away! A few minutes on and I'd caught up with them as they sat on a ledge for a breather. Lee was admiring the view towards Hallsfell Top as Davey took time out to have a well-earned tab. Brian appeared behind me after a couple of minutes so we all sat for a while before continuing the scramble. At this point I thought about taking some photographs, but decided against the idea - I had no fancy for negotiating a backpack full of expensive gear on a rock ledge with 300 feet of absolute nothing below. Reflecting on the climb so far, I had doubts whether I'd make it across to this point. There was DEFINATELY no turning back! What choice did I have, apart from gritting my teeth and getting on with it. I also rembember asking myself whether I'd experienced anything as frightening as this in my entire life. I struggled to think of one example. Oh, f**k it! Let's get this over with, he he. From here we had a vertical climb of around 20 feet, with ledges to assist feet and hands. I double checked each ledge before making the decision to lend it my whole body weight before I pulled myself up and headed onto the exposed ridge top, known as Narrow Edge, for obvious reasons. This was the highest point on Sharp Edge and it took some bottle to look down from here towards Scales Tarn, as fellow climbers resembled ants from such a distance. Technical ability wasn't a problem during the climb as most of was down to common sense and awareness. Exposure was the main handicap, especially as the wind had a habit of creeping up on you every now and again.

Looking back along Sharp Edge it was clear that we were over half way, which was quite comforting and already I was becoming a lot more confident in seeing this drama through. A reminder of the perils came in the shape of dead sheep below - a statistical reminder of what could be. Once you are at the eastern end of the ridge, the excitement starts. There is an easy path to the right for the first part if anyone wishes to use it, but sticking to the crest of the ridge is far more fun. As with all slate ridges you do need to be aware of slices of loose rock. Half way along the ridge you will reach a point where a large slab of smooth and badly angled slate sits on the ridge crest. I remember seeing a couple of lads on all fours, negotiating this section and holding on for their lives. This slab is known as the Bad Step and is one of the Lake District's most dangerous and most prolific accident spots. After crossing the Bad Step I was at the end of the ridge and it was now time to scramble up the rock face, known as Foule Crag, towards Atkinson Pike. There was a wide gully slightly to the right, but by this time I was rather enjoying the whole experience and opted for the route straight ahead, offering a more challenging climb. The business end of the climb was behind me, although Davey and Lee were in front and heading towards the top of Foule Crag at some pace.

Foule Crag must have been at least fifty feet of rock face, and the last part of the climb/ scramble. At this height I could still hear the distant call of the many sheep below, plus the sound of laughter from other climbers behind me on Sharp Edge, probably trying to make light of a very scarey situation, he he. With my tee-shirt stuck to my back and sweat running down my forehead I made my way up Foule Crag, with Brian following suit behind me. To my left was a ridiculous drop to Scales Tarn - it must have been 300 feet, easily. Feeling quite pleased with myself for getting this far, I reminded myself that the job wasn't done yet. One glimpse of the Tarn told me that. It looked tiny from where I was standing. I'd made it this far with sunglasses on and although they helped to shield the bright sun, I couldn't help but think they would hinder my eyesight as I searched for the best ledges to use. A bit late for that though - I was almost home and dry! I was surprised how quickly I negotiated Foule Crag, there was obviously plenty left in the tank. My whole body, especially my legs and lower back, were on fire by this time, but there was no time to waste as I now had Davey and Lee in my sights at the top of the crag. A few minutes later I joined them, taking a very well deserved break whilst we sat admiring the view and reflecting on the drama. We sat for quite a while, chomping on snacks and drinking heavily from our bottles. I was chuffed to bits at this point, realising I'd conquered my fear of heights and even asking myself 'Did I really have a fear of heights in the first place'. I must have had, as I know exactly how uncomfortable I felt when the scramble began, yet I grew in confidence as I put more rock behind me.

We sat for quite a while yet there was still no sign of Brian, who was at the back of our group when we arrived at Sharp Edge. As we waited further a dozen or so climbers passed us, with one lady saying she'd passed Brian on the way up. At least he was safe - we were beginning to think he'd come a cropper! An elderly couple with a Golden Labrador came over the top of Foule Crag, just before Brian, who looked very uncomfortable to say the least, telling us he had a bad case of cramp in his knee's, which caused his delay. Lee and Brian were off Sharp Edge together, with me following them 15 minutes later. Brian appeared 20 minutes after me, along with another group and we exchanged some banter before taking group photographs of eachother - a friendly bunch they certainly were. Soon we off again, making our final accent to the summit of Blencathra, where at least 30 people had already gathered. A concrete ring marked the summit, but there were no signs of a cairn. The wind had picked up considerably by this time and the coats were out of the rucksacks. The panoramic views from the summit were outstanding and many of the Northern Fells could be seen, as well as Derwentwater in the distance.

I took a few shots on my mobile phone, including panoramic stitches, which turned out quite well. After 15 miuntes or so we headed back down the mountain to Scales where Brian's car was parked. It was a novelty to see a few fell runners pass us as we descended - what the hell are they on!!! The joints were taking a hammering on our way down the fells so it was a case of 'Steady Away'. I had a funny feeling we'd be heading straight to a pub, and so we did. We reflected on the whole walking, climbing & scrambling experience at the Sun Inn, Bassenthwaite Village. The sun, incidentally, was still beating down as we sat outside the pub. We had the place to ourselves and knocked back a couple of pints whilst Brian downed a coke - driving duty, you see. A big pat on the back to the four of us, who, as inexperienced 'Forty-Pluses' taking on our first real mountain (including Sharp Edge), and conquering it, it was an achievement not to be underestimated. Four went up and four came back. Maybe half the enjoyment was the whole fear factor, yet I feel like doing the whole thing again, soon!

A great experience, with a mixture of emotions - fear, trepidation, apprehension, surprise, elation, and some.

Until the next time...
Ash

Lakes Weekender (Blencathra) - Up to Scales Tarn

The time had come to begin the main event. Our Lakeland adventure was about to get serious as we took our first steps from Scales Farm onto Blencathra. The initial climb up Mousethwaite Comb was a wake-up call for the entire body, as we made a steep accent in a north-easterly direction through ferns and bracken. After only a few minutes of walking my legs were burning but this was quite normal and I expected aches and pains along the way, but not this early into the climb. We were walking for at least 20 minutes before we took our first rest, at the top of the Comb. The views from here were something else! The valley in front of us resembled a patchwork quilt and it was from this viewpoint that I took my first photographs, with the lads sat in the foreground, savouring the view (picture 1). A couple of fell walkers passed as we rested but that was all, there's were no others to be seen for a while after that. After ten minutes rest we resumed our walk, turning left and heading through Mousthwaite Comb in a northerly direction, continuing along a path that skirts the top of the crags above the old disused quarry levels that were marked on our map. Eventually we reached the ridge at the back end of Mousthwaite Comb. We now had Blencathra to the left and Souther Fell to the right. From here we had a great view down to the River Glenderamackin Valley and the quiet, desolate and grassy Back o' Skiddaw landscape. We then headed along the path above the River Glenderamackin Valley for around a kilometre until we reached Scales Beck. After turning left we followed the path that ascends the beck, firstly crossing it then ascending its route up to Scales Tarn, passing a steep, noisy waterfall on our left. This part of the route was quite busy with other fell walkers, all friendly and acknowledging as we crossed paths. During our walk through the Glenderamackin Valley the target of our fears come into view, our first sight of Sharp Edge. It looked more than intimidating, to say the least. We had rested a couple of times before we reached this point so my legs were ok, recharged, so to speak - I felt confident that by the time we actually arrived at Sharp Edge it wouldn't look as bad as it first looked, and that we'd go across it, no bother.

It wasn't long before we reached our last resting place before tackling Sharp Edge, an ideal place for a spot of lunch - this was Scales Tarn. Off went the backpack and out came the pasties. Davey took one bite and threw it away, saying it was a bit too rubbery for him. I reckon the sight of Sharp Edge right in front of us had suddenly made him lose his appetite...he he. Lee (Mezo) was hesitant about the job in front of us, saying it was now getting windy and it mightn't be a good idea to attempt the daunting ridge climb after all. Although I didn't let on, I was quite happy to go along with this as I didn't quite like the look of what I could see - tiny ant-like figures climbing an exposed ridge with a fall of atleast 300 feet to either side! Oh dear - BEAM ME UP, SCOTTY!!!!! I looked behind me as we sat, but Brian was lying on his back, eyes shut and looking very exhausted - no feedback from him. Davey brushed the wind issue aside very quickly and said 'Reet, are we all ready then'. I think our arses were twitching somewhat as we got to our feet and prepared ourselves for glory or death!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! At Scales Tarn the path to Blencathra summit splits into two - one heads up an obvious shale path (Brunt Knott) to Sharp Edge, and the other goes to the left - a much easier, although steep route to the summit and Atkinson's Pike. I overheard one walker saying to his friend 'I'm not bloody climbing that' as he pointed to Sharp Edge. They then opted for the easier route and off they went, dismissing the Edge in no time at all. I couldn't help but wish I was accompanying them as we headed up Brunt Knott towards 'The Edge', the only other route to the summit. Talk about getting 'The shit end of the stick'.
This was it - the talking had been going on since early May, eight weeks ago from todays climb. Sharp Edge was right in front of us now and there was no turning back. I looked at it in awe before looking down towards Scales Tarn (picture 3), which was glistening in the early afternoon heat. From here the Tarn looked a long way down and we weren't even on the ridge yet, which climbed a lot higher than where we now stood. My face must have been a picture, he he. I'm sure I felt the colour draining from my face as Davey and Lee disappeared over the first rocks and onto Sharp Edge. They were off and running. Brian looked at me and said 'Ready when you are'. I smiled and replied 'No problem, squire' before turning to begin the ridge climb. Talk about false smiles and all that...LOL! As I negotiated the first section of the crag (picture 4), my mind started playing tricks with me. I remembered during my research of Sharp Edge I discovered that there had been over a dozen fatalities and many other incidents at this location - the most dangerous ridge climb of all the fells in the English Lake District. Can't say I was a happy bunny at this point, but I intended to push myself and my ground level comfort zone was now a distant prospect as I grabbed the bull by the horns and threw caution to the wind. Here we go...
SHARP EDGE SCRAMBLE - Coming next!
Cheers, Ash

Lakes Weekender (Blencathra) - Arrival @ Scales

After breakfast it was time to consult the OS map to establish the route we would take from our starting point at Scales to (hopefully) our arrival at the summit of Blencathra. Davey advised, being competant in these matters, and it was agreed that we would take the route he suggested, which would indeed involve a scramble over Sharp Edge. Fully eqipped, we were soon in the car as Brian drove us to Scales where we parked up and quickly got to grips with the business end of our Lake District visit. The sun was shining brightly and there was plenty of blue sky and broken clouds - maybe I should have brought my Canon kit instead of the Sony swivel body affair. Never mind, I intended to get photographs no matter what, even with my mobile phone. The sceond shot (shown here) was taken by Davey and shows Brian, myself and Lee making final preps before we headed up Blencathra. After passing through the five bar gate at the mountain foot I paused for a short while and looked behind me, taking in the view across towards Great Mell Fell. A picture appeared at that moment and I snapped the view on my mobile phone, shown here (picture 3). I turned around and faced Blencathra once again. time had finally arrived to climb my first mountain, and what a way to start - 728 metres of ascent, covering a distance of 5 miles during an estimated time of 4 hours. Here we go - time to climb!



Ash

Lakes Weekender (Blencathra) - Early Morning, Day 2

During the night the rain barely stopped - I know that because I didn't get much sleep. Not sure why that was - maybe a combination of a few things - never camped in a farmers field before, couldn't get comfortable, rain lashing off tent, no ear plugs, brian's constant snoring! Oh well, nowt to do but suck a lemon and get on with it, I suppose. At 5am, during a rare doze, I was awoken by more noise as Brian went to make a phone call in his car, making little attempt to close the door quietly. Then the door slammed again, and again. Surely this a wind-up! I decided to get up for a bit of fresh air at this point so off I went, grabbing my camera en route. I made my way down the embankment towards Bassenthwaite lake where I was greeted with almost still waters. The sky was overcast and it was a pretty miserable dawn all round. No colour to be had so I set about taking a few black and white shots at the edge of the lake. Here comes Brian with his camera, Mr Nagzy, the noisy customer! We took a few shots before heading back to base camp where Davy and Lee were just rising. The kettle was on and Davy asked 'Who the **** was making all the noise earlier'. He he, so Brian ended up on pot duty after we had breakfast, which consisted of bacon sandwiches made with eggy bread. Another cup of tea and the sun suddenly came out and the low cloud cover lifted. By the time we were ready to leave camp for our assault on Blencathra, the weather had improved dramatically and it was in with the tee-shirts. The sun was beating down and glorious weather was now on our side as we made the car journey from Scarness to Scales, where we would eventually park up and begin our climb up Blencathra. Any chance of the Sharp Edge route being cancelled had by now evaporated - looks like it's imminent! Never done anything like this before, and with only a couple of hours sleep under my belt this was scant preparation for what lay ahead. Adversity sometimes go in your favour though, so I was quietly confident I was gonna get through it unscathed. As we made the journey along the A66 to Scales I was about to find out whether this was my thing or not. No head for heights - this was gonna be interesting!

Ash

Lakes Weekender (Blencathra) - Base Camp

Setting up base camp -

A conversation with a workmate took an interesting turn back in May 2011. Not quite sure what the original discussion was about but it quickly became something else - climbing mountains! Mr Llloyd said he liked the idea of getting away one weekend and doing something 'different'. He then went on to suggest a few of us should get our arses into gear and head off to the Lake District for a camping weekend, tackling a mountain along the way. Well, not being one for sleeping in a field I wasn't too receptive to the idea, half dismissing it at first, but then becoming more interested as the conversation progressed. Davey (Mr Lloyd), was a regular visitor to the Lake District, mainly due to his commitments with 25th Bournmoor Scout Group, so he knew the drill well as far as this game went. He often camped with the scouts on a remote farmers field at Scarness, on the edge of Lake Bassenthwaite, near the Northern Fells. After he'd sold the idea to yours truly I quickly realised an added bonus of landscape photography might just make this weekend an even better one, so I 'Signed Up' there and then. We quickly recruited two more, Lee and Brian, also known as Mezo and Nagzy. Don't ask me to explain! The plan was to camp, walk, climb, eat, drink and just basically have a good laugh. The plans were made a few weeks before we actually made the trip, which eventually took place on the weekend beginning Friday July 8th 2011. The main event over the planned weekend was to tackle a mountain and Davey suggested Blencathra, just off the A66 on the approach to Keswick. None of us apart from Davey had even heard of it, let alone climb it. To me, a mountain is a mountain, but this one had a sting in its tail. It was decided by Davey, he he, that our route to the summit would be taken via Sharp Edge. I'll not go into detail about it - click here for enlightenment!!!
Ok, so you've clicked the link and you now think we need our heads checking, he he. Ya know something...you're probably right! More on our Sharp Edge experience later, but for now I'll tell the story of our arrival at Scarness at we set up camp for the weekend ahead... Our 90 minute journey from Houghton le Spring to Scarness wasn't a pleasant one, especially when you're on driving duty - it rained quite heavily. I made the journeyin my car with Davey, while Lee travelled with Brian, as we needed two set of wheels to transport all our gear...and beer! The weather forecast for the whole weekend wasn't good at all, but I wasn't too disappointed - it looked like Sharp Edge was going to be a non-starter......YESSSS !!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Didn't quite fancy it for some reason, he he. Davey led us to Broadness Farm, near the edge of Bassenthwaite Lake. He knew the place like the back of his hand after spending many a time here with his scout group. It was a picturesque location, with one of the highest lakeland fells sitting alongside us - Skiddaw, the fourth highest mountain in England. As the rain eased off we quickly pitched the tent, a four berth affair with a bedroom at each end and storage room in the centre, our 'Hotel' for the weekend! Picture 2 shows Lee and Brian after the final tent pegs were sunk. No sooner was the tent up, the kettle was on the stove and it was time for a brew. Then the heavens opened again and we quickly headed inside the tent. It didn't half lash down. At that point I questioned what the hell I was doing there, in a tent, farmers field, pissing down rain, and the prospect of tackling Sharp Edge the following day...he he, you end up laughing, if ya didn't, well...

After a cuppa it was time to eat, so out came the gas stoves under a nearby tree and it was a-la carte all the way - NOT! Tasty nevertheless, and it filled that gap. The rain eased and a nice rainbow greeted us across the way (picture 1). As night time drew closer we headed off along the waters edge to stretch our forty-something legs. The place was quite desolate, give or take a handful of kids canoeing on the outskirts of the big pond. An hour later and we were back on our hotel complex, in search of firewood - time to get warmed up. We soon had a roaring fire going and we sat around it on our fold-up chairs, downing lager and cider in the process. This is the life! We chatted and joked on as the alcohol went down as the light fell. It was around 10pm by this time and we sat looking through the break in the trees across the lake. The water was almost still. Virtual silence, apart from a distant stream of cars on the A66 westbound at the far side of Bassenthwaite. Then total silence. The silence was broken when a rogue piece of wood spat from the fire and into Mezo's face...oh dear...we couldn't help but laugh...talk about impeccable timing! I do recall him sharing a four letter word with us as he rubbed his face to relieve the pain. Time for a group shot around the fire (shown here L-R, Ash, Davey, Brian and Lee). Shortly after 11pm, and after a few more 'Jars', we staggered back up the bank towards our glamourous 'Hotel'. It was time to rest those weary heads in preparation for our mountain climb the next day. I needed a good night's sleep, that was sure - didn't wanna tackle that hill without one. The rain started again as lights went out. Time for reflection before sleep. I was looking forward to the rest of our weekend although Sharp Edge was on the back of my mind. Never done anything like that before, and not having a head for heights it certainly made for an interesting and challenging time ahead. I intended to push myself, close to the edge, but not over it, he he.

Stay tuned for the next installment - Blencathra climb, via Sharp Edge!

Thanks for visiting,

Ash

Penshaw Poppies, Sunderland

The Oilseed Rape had died off near Penshaw Monument, leaving a once bright yellow field a mid shade of green, before the red carpet appeared. And appear it did, as the days turned into a week and a week turned into a fortnight, the poppies were there in abundance near one of the North-East's best known landmarks. I'd been waiting for this for three years. 2008 was the last time this particular field had a show of poppies and I remember taking a couple of shots that eventually ended up going to print, before sitting in a frame. A steady supply adorned the walls of Penshaw Tea Rooms, at the foot of Penshaw Hill. They sold well but I wasn't that impressed with the shots to be honest. I knew the re-appearance of the poppies would give me ample opportunity to put that right, so now I was armed with a Canon 7D it was time to cause some 'Damage'. I'd spoken to Tony, manager of the Tea Rooms and he was in the mood for a new batch of poppy frames, saying I was lucky the poppies were there this year, adding that the owner of the field had told him he intended to apply a chemical to the plants that would kill the poppies as they emerged, but the chemical in question had recently been banned from agricultural use, preventing him from using it. What a pity eh (wink).
As the poppies started to bloom around the edges of the field I decided to wait until the whole field was awash with red, which would really make a picture. A slight worry arose when my trip to Venice was only a few days away. Would my return be too late - would the poppies have died off after ten days? Well ten days later I returned to the UK and the first sign of good weather coincided with my ten minute car journey to Penshaw where I saw the field in great nick. Picture perfect - poppies everywhere. Time to set those idle hands to work. I photographed from the outkirts of the poppy field before making my way through the tangled mess and into the heart of the field where I photographed my best work. A small selection is shown here. This part of the field was the best location to shoot from - an ideal vantage point. Weather was warm, a slight breeze, broken clouds - happy days. I just knew these shots were going to light up my portfolio. I would like to think I got there. Sold a few already and more to go through the channels shortly. I don't know, there's something that attracts folk to photo's like these. All the better if you can include an iconic landmark alongside the red carpet. Say what you want about 'Life Up North', but I love this place. It's all here - the photographs go some way to reinforcing that statement. That is all. The world through my eyes, in photographic form...

Thanks for visiting.

Ashley Corr

Penshaw Countryside

April 2011 saw the Spring weather take a firm hold in Houghton le Spring. It was a mild season in many respects - overcast skies and rain were evident most weeks but we had our fair share of sunshine too. One place I was drawn to, yet again, was Penshaw Hill, a ten minute drive from my home. I supply quite a lot of my work to Penshaw Tea Rooms & Nursery, who in turn sell it on their premises. The Tea Rooms look out onto Penshaw Hill and its dominating Monument, making it an obvious attraction and customers are surrounded by a selection of framed prints, by yours truly. Over the past two and a half years they've sold dozens of frames, including my mounted prints, canvases and postcards. Sales continue to do well as I write, so hopefully that will continue for some time to come. Naturally I'm always on the hunt for new photographs of Penshaw Monument so I tend to visit the National Trust site every few weeks to update my collection. My best selling images up to 2011 were of the nearby poppy fields which I shot during Spring 2008. Since then the oilseed rape hadn't been planted so I didn't get the opportunity to update my poppy shots, which by my own admission, weren't that good. That all changed however in Spring 2011 when I drove past Penshaw Hill towards the A19 dual carraigeway. I noticed to my left that the oilseed rape was in bloom and this signalled the arrival of the poppies once again, although that would follow the yellow carpet once it died off, probably in early May.

My first shot (shown here) was taken on an embankment next to a busy road near Penshaw Hill. I wanted a variation of shots from different points near the field, although the location of Penshaw Monument and the field itself meant I was shooting towards the Monument from similar angles. Situated on the edge of the field I included the wooden fence in the foreground, rather than have little or no interest in this part of the shot, as in my second effort shown below (shot 2).
Again I chose a day when there was plenty of broken cloud - something I prefer to add to landscape shots, as opposed to a clear blue sky or even an overcast one. I like those picture-postcard type shots and I've tried to capture that kind of Spring scene here. In ful bloom I'd say the oilseed rape only lasts a couple of weeks at most. As it begins to die off you begin to see the emergence of the poppies, usually scattered around the outskirts of the field, which was again the case in 2011 as red began to replace yellow. This shot was taken from a position right in the middle of the farmers field. No poppies in these shots though as I knew they'd be getting plenty of attention during the next few weeks, once the yellow had gone. As you can see in my third and final shot, the rapeseed was by now few and far between, but that was ok - I'd got what I wanted and that was that. All I needed now was the poppies, and plenty of them. It was time to update my collection of images and I knew a good batch would sit well in frames too. It wasn't long before the fields were in full bloom - but did I get what I wanted?
Results shortly...

Cheers, Ash

Venice - Part 3 (Fond. Dogana)

The third and final part of my Venice blog concentrates on my journey through San Polo to Fond. Dogana, the most southerly part of the city. I was more than happy with the photographs I'd taken on the east side of the Grand Canal and more opportunities followed as I hit San Polo on the west side - gaining access via the Rialto Bridge. By this time it was early afternoon and the temperature was up there, which isn't something I'm a big fan of. I don't mind big heat, but when there's no let up it usually has me hunting down a shaded refuge for a short while. I remember the tee-shirt I was wearing was stuck to my back for the best part. Yes, I remember it well - navy and white hoops, very similar to that worn by those gondolier chaps. All I needed now was a straw hat and two litres of brylcreem and that was me suddenly impersonating one of them. Mind you, when they're asking 100 Euro's a pop for a 30 minute trip in a gondola, I could have made a few bob! Ah well, maybe another time - for now I'll just stick to impersonating a photographer.

My first shot (above) is a typical scene along the Venice waterways, although I don't remember the exact location. The tower was leaning over to one side, not as much as another famous tower but it was easily noticable along the canal where I stood. Two identical bridges give access to either bank of this particular waterway and these add to the shot considerably - there's hundreds of them in Venice, which often give a good excuse to stop when taking photographs of the oncoming gondola's. Again you can see many motor boats along the waters edge - the Venetian residents equivalent to our 'Car on the drive.' Many of the apartments at each side of the canal actually belong to hotels, although you rarely see a reception entrance or a sign telling you which hotel it is. On thing for sure, these rooms won't come cheap but are probably worth every penny when you're commanding a prime spot in a place like this. I'd love to have photographed Venice at dusk when the place is lit up, especially along the Grand Canal towards Rialto and an overnight stay in Venice would have been the way to go, but seeing as I was based at Jesolo the idea never really got off the ground.
Continuing my journey South towards Canal Della Giudecca finally reached Ponte Lungo, another bridge that led me along a waterside path to my eventual destination - Punta Della Dogana. It was here that I had an excellent view across the water to San Marco (shown here in shot 2), with its dominating Campanile Tower. The sky offered an excellent backdrop with those fluffy white clouds that have a knack of finishing of an excellent landscape shot, or seascape in this case. Of course, the obligatory boat enters the frame to add some foreground interest. The buildings to the right of the shot are situated along the edge of Canal Di San Marco and this is where many of the tourist boats reach Venice from places such as Schiavoni, Arsenale and Punta Sabbioni, which is where I arrived from.

At the tip of Fond. Dogana was a large white statue of a man holding a lizard. The design must have stood around ten feet in height, undraped and sporting a rather small penis. Well, you couldn't help but notice it! Groups of girls stood giggling nearby, pointing, before having their photo took next to it. One girl grabbed the manhood while her friend lifted her camera to take a shot, when this scrawny little fella dressed in a policemans uniform jumped out from seemingly nowhere and went apeshit!!! 'NO TOUCH, NO TOUCH' he shouted, as the startled girl pulled her hand away as if she'd received an electric shock, he he. This fella was obviously the 'New Starter' in the police station and had been assigned to the job no-one else wanted. His brief must have been to stand there there all day and make sure no-one touched the statue. Poor lad was about four-foot nowt and five stone wet through! It was funny watching him from afar, trying to look menacing with his truncheon and handcuffs, big black leather boots and hat. He looked like summat from a Wacky Warehouse kids party - in fancy dress! Wish I'd taken a photo of him now. Ah well...

From there I made my way along the waters edge facing Bacino Di San Marco to Palace Genovese. Crowds were taking a breather on the palace steps looking down towards a young Japanese couple that were having their photographs taken. At first it appeared that they'd just been married but it was soon obvious that they hadn't. Another Japanese guy was taking the shots, probably for his wedding photography portfolio, while a girl followed, occasionally spraying the bride's hair and touching up her make-up. There were many obvious pointers that this was an exercise to promote a photography business in Venice - plus the bride and groom were rowing most of the time! I attached my 300mm lens and took a few candid shots of the wedding shot. Quite pleased with them considering I was in the shadows during the 2 or 3 minutes I was there. The couple looked immaculate though - have to give them that.

Finally it was time to head back over the canal and wait for my boat back to the mainland. I made a few more pictures before reaching the docking area, including a well photographed scene of the Venetian gondoliers with the island of San Giorgio Di Maggiore in the background (shown here, shot 4). The gondola's in the shot were out of service at the time, hence the waterproof blue covers. A quick visit to a nearby toilet followed before I made my way towards the docking point where the Marco Polo boat was due in a few minutes. While waiting I watched the world go by, doing a spot of people watching to kill my last few minutes in Venice. At this point along the promenade are many gift stalls and cafeteria's and if you fancy one of those fake Gucci bags - ya know, the ones that fall to bits after a week, well, there's plenty of African immigrants knocking those out. Barter with them if you decide to take a chance on a bag - these fella's will sell their granny for a few Euro's. One of them tried to grab my arm as I walked past. I told him I wasn't 'That way inclined', then he said 'Quality Dolce Gabbana Leather, Sir'. I thought to me'sel 'He he, leather MY ARSE'. I shook my head and walked past the Garth Crooks lookalike as my boat arrived. That was it - I was out.

Venice - never to be forgotten. Fantastic place!

Back soon...AC

Venice - Part 2 (Rialto Market Area)

Stepping out of St Mark's Square and into the Napoloenic Wing I headed into the unknown through an archway that led me to Calla Larga, which included exclusive shops such as Louis Vuitton. With only my backpack and a map of Venice for company I was about to begin an exploration of this unique City, as a sense of excitement gripped me as to what lay ahead. I was confronted by a maze of narrow streets with tall buildings, which looked like they probably did 50 years ago, retaining character during the passage of time. Many had those old wooden velour shutters, which were all closed, probably to keep the heat at bay. Then again, the residents of Venice mustn't be short of a bob or two, so I reckon Air-Con must come as standard. These three and four storey buildings looked rather run down from the outside but I dare say the interiors are a very different matter. As I stop for a minute to find my bearings, courtesy of my map, I find myself stood outside a pizzeria-stroke-cafe. The smell was something else. What is it about freshly baked bread? I gazed into the window to see an array of pizza, wraps, sandwiches, rolls and cakes. To be honest, I didn't have a clue what was in most of the sandwiches as they were individually labelled in Italian. All I could understand was the prices, and they weren't cheap. I was in there like a dog after a bone, buying a small rolled pizza that looked the best of the bunch. I waited a short while until it was lightly crisped off in a toasting machine before it was handed over in exchange for 5 Euro's. Add to that a 500ml can of coke and I was more than happy, toddling out of the shop with a look of satisfaction on my face. I was now back into the soaring heat as I parked my arse on a nearby bench overlooking Rio Del Veste. Time for lunch.

Feeling a tad more than content after my 15 minute pit-stop I was on my feet again as my map began to draw me towards the famous Rialto Bridge over the Grand Canal. As the early afternoon heat started to get the better of me, I remember taking the odd wrong turn or two before getting back on track and heading through Calla Del Fuseri, which took me in a straight line towards Palace Loredan and eventually to the edge of the Grand Canal. The area was very busy - top heavy tourist numbers in every direction, and that included the canal itself! As well as Gondola's, the canal in front of me was a highway for motor boats carrying food supplies and drinks to the many homes and restaurants on the Venice waterways. The Rialto Bridge (Second shot) was the focal point of interest and not only was it a photogenic subect as the gondola's passed under its arch, but the view from the bridge itself was equally as attractive as I looked back along the Grand Canal. Almost everyone around me were using camera's, and why not, views like this don't come along every day! I'd safely say, with hindsight, that this was my favourite viewpoint in the whole city - an ideal position to capture a bit of everything that Venice had to offer.

More sightseeing followed, as I wandered through more narrow streets that ran parallel with the Grand Canal, heading upstream towards the Pescheria (Fish Market), on the San Polo side of the canal. It certainly wasn't my map that guided me to this point on my journey, but the strong smell of raw fish that filled the air. Intrigue got the better of me so I entered the Fish Market to see exactly what had been landed. I somehow assumed that the catch would have naturally been pulled from the Med, so I was more than surprised when I read the origin of Gamberoni (Jumbo Prawns) and Red Snapper was Argentina. The prawns were like nothing I'd seen before - 'Jumbo' is a modest way of describing them! Money was exchanging hands at a sharp rate as the place was packed with customers looking for a good deal. Best sellers appeared to be Tuna Steaks, Shark, Lobster and Sea Bass, as well as Gamberoni. Brought to the market by boat, the seafood left the premises in Venetian carrier bags, by the dozen. As I passed the last stall on my left an apron clad fisherman was gutting a huge fish on a slab - it's head bared a striking resemblance to John Prescott in more ways than one, just before the knife came down, detaching it from its body. Within a few seconds I was out of the building and enjoying some much needed fresh air. I stood near the jetty where the fish was delivered to the market, looking up the Grand Canal, which is where I captured my third shot (shown here). Gondola's was passing regularly, as well as the usual
motor boats that service the City's businesses and homes. Straddling this section of the Canal were the many buildings, side by side, including Palace Brandolin, Palace Broldu and
Ca' Da Mosto. This was to be the most northern point of Venice that I visited before heading west across San Polo, to my evental destination Punta Delia Dogana, the southern gateway to the Grand Canal.

More of this next time, including some photo's of a Venetian wedding that I stumbled across. Until then, thanks once again for visiting.
Ash

Venice, Italy - Part 1 (San Marco)

Venice - without doubt the most photogenic City I have ever visited. I could be excused for saying Venice is a photographers paradise, and if you're a photography buff yourself then you'll know what I'm getting at if you ever have the pleasure of visiting. I made two trips to Venice within the space of three days - the weather was overcast on the first visit and sunny/cloudy on the second. Weather aside, I intended to make the most of my time here, especially as it may have been my first, second and last visit to this unique place. Water-girt Venice rises on an archipelago of small islands separated by a dense network of waterways, which were rectified down the years, noticably changing the original conformation. Venice lies four kilometers from the mainland and two from the open sea. The longest of the canals, and the widest, is the Grand Canal which divides the city into two main parts that are connected by three bridges - the Bridge of the Scalzi, the Bridge of Rialto and also the Academia. Forty-Five internal canals run into the Grand Canal, which can all be navigated with small boats or gondolas. As many as 350 bridges connect the various zones of the city. Piazza San Marco is a gem among gems in the the field of Italian architecture. This large open space has the Basilica of San Marco, the Palace of Doges and the Logetta (clock tower) on each side. It was here that I made my way into Venice from the boating station after docking a few minutes earlier. The boat trip across from Punta Sabbioni lasted approximately 25 minutes and cost 9 Euro's for a return ticket. The place was crammed with tourists like myself, eager to see what Venice had to offer. The Clock Tower in Piazza San Marco was built between 1496 and 1499 and is undoubtedly one of the most photographed monuments in Venice, mainly because of the two moors that strike the bell at the top of the tower every hour. The Campanile of San Marco is dominated by the lofty bell tower that reaches 100 meters high. Queue's for the tower stretched from its entrance across the way towards the Basilica but I didn't fancy waiting in that lot, opting to explore the more photogenic areas of Veneto instead. Mind you, the view from the top would have been well worth the wait in the queue.

From the Piazzetta I took a swift left turn past the Campanile and into St Mark's Square. Either side of the square is decked with tables and chairs - sit on a chair at your peril! How about 20 Euro's for two cups of coffee - not likely. If you've got money to burn then dive in, but surely no cup of coffee in the world is worth that kind of outlay. Then again, you're paying for the location, a prime spot in the heart of Venice, and that obviously comes at a price. A small orchestra played for the paying customers as they sat watching the world go by. Waiters in white dinner jackets and dicky-bows tended to the customers, lending a rather finishing touch to the art of exclusivety in St Mark's Square. It was interesting to see just how many people were sitting in the restaurant seats - they must have mare money than sense! There was an abundance of Japanese and American tourists among the crowds in St Mark's - many of them formed part of a group that were being guided around the area, enjoying an informal and factual account of ancient Venice up to the present day. I noticed a flyer on the boat across to Venice that advertised a forthcoming open air concert in the square by Sting, former frontman of pop group The Police. The show was billed as Symphonicity, and what a place to play live in on a potentially warm Summer's night. I wonder how much those tickets were going for?

From the Square I headed through the Napoleonic wing, a long walk where exclusive (and very expensive) shops lined the route on one side, with columns along the other that led back into the Square. The first part of Venice had been seen and what an eye-opener it was - a kind of 'How the other half live'. From the Napoleonic Wing I walked through an arch and into Calle Larga, a typical narrow street with high buildings that had plenty of character. At this point the exploration of Venice really started to kick in and I had the feeling I was going to do some serious damage with my camera. It was now time to invite my 10-22mm wide to the party...

To be continued.

Ash