These Sunsets are going to kill me

Technorati Tags: Photography,sunsets,photos,trains,horses,snow

Yesterday we had the most amazing sunset; purples, pinks yellows and with the snow we had the day before, the world looked spectacular. Unfortunately, as is usual for me – see: When Time is Short and It’s Those Sunsets Again – I was stuck in the car behind 4 other cars, behind a mobile crane that I think had difficulty finding 2nd gear. I figured I had about 5 minutes left of this array of colour and knew exactly the best place to take a shot. Time was running out….fast

Eventually, I came to our village and my turn off too home. Once I had collected my camera, I shot off down the road only to catch up with the “just mobile” mobile crane negotiating it’s way through our neighbouring village where I wanted to take the shot.

The colours were disappearing before my very eyes. I had to do something. So I did; I smacked the steering wheel in frustration and was rewarded with a face full of airbag. Now if any of you out there have never experienced “airbag in the face” before I don’t recommend it. If the shock doesn’t kill you, the punch in the face will most surely finish you off.

So I’m now behind “just mobile” mobile crane; my eyes are full of water, my nose feels like it’s done 10 rounds with Lenox Lewis and I’m trying to stuff the air bag back into the microscopic place it attacked me from. What little I could see of the sunset was fading slowly and my left turn to get where I want is slowly coming up. Please don’t turn left, please don’t.

There is a God, it goes straight on and I, fighting with the airbag turn left only to be confronted by 3 wild horses. I say wild, they were domesticated really just going wild on the bridge I was trying to cross. There must have been about 30 locals trying to coral them back to the field they whence came. Now I love horses, but at that particular moment in time had I a M16 in the boot, well lets just say; they would have been travelling down the autobahn on a truck for an appointment with the nearest French restaurant before you could say “giddy up”.

With the horses safely tucked into their field for the night, I eventually arrived at the location I wanted to be at; the railway bridge. The best of the sunset by now had passed, but there was still a little colour left in the sky to get a semi decent shot and besides I was here now so why not take a photograph. All I had to do was get up the railway embankment, easy!

For the next part of the tale, I feel the need to explain a few things: Firstly; I had, as you will remember, just come from town. That meant I had my town attire on, more significantly my nice leather soled town shoes. Secondly; to save time and because I was moving so slowly behind the “just mobile” mobile crane I assembled the camera onto the tripod in the car. Thirdly; as I mentioned previously it had been snowing the day before.

I quickly grab my tripod and camera from the passengers seat and shot out of the car; big mistake! Leather soles and snow have the same viscosity as Formula One engine oil. The law of physics dictates that with a weight in one hand + over enthusiastic speed = flight; Olympic high jump standard flight at that. Luckily for my camera the human chest is a relatively soft surface for which to land on. I now realise, as I am dusting myself off and getting my wind back, that the 5 meter embankment could pose quite a challenge, with mount Everest proportions.

Base camp one was set up at the bottom of what looked like a path leading up through the brambles and weeds. Here I strapped my tripod and camera to my back to give me 2 free hands, I then re-evaluated the potential of the photograph. Mother nature has left just enough purple in the sky to tempt me, so the mission is a go’er.

With a fistful of bramble and undergrowth in both of my bare hands and my throbbing nose almost touching the steep embankment, I proceed to pull myself up the slope. My legs are windmilling away at 10 too the dozen in an attempt to gain grip and my lungs are doing a core melt down, I decide, not being as fit as I used to be, to take a break. The summit is in site, I can see the shine of the tracks luring me to carry on, so grabbing what I can I get off my stomach I push on.

The last meter of the ascend has to be crawled and clawed. The “bramble windmilling” technique works fine if there is bramble to grab hold off. The nearer to the summit, the less you have. I crawl over the edge and lie wasted next to the track. My hands are blue and my lungs felt like an over used nuclear reactor, but I made it.

With no time to recoup I proceed to pick myself up only to be confronted by the 17:08 express from Horb coming straight at me. The old joke about “What’s the last thing that goes through a flies mind when he hits a windscreen?… It’s arse” came to mind. Most people reading this will think this is a no brainer decision here: jump off the embankment and attempt the ascent again or face your arse going through your brain? Well I actually had to think about it. I did jump off the embankment, but what gets me is the driver of the train. Only at about 5 meters before the impending impact did he hit the horn and I recon he never even thought of braking….The bastard! He could have broken my camera, what would my sons have inherited then? At least they would have saved money on the coffin, just use a flat pack from Ikea

I was more up than down on the north face of the Eigor embankment so scrambled back to the top, this time checking left and right before I got to my feet. Needless to say that when I did set-up the camera, I took 2 looks behind and 2 in front for every look in the view finder.

The resulting photographs after all that weren’t too bad as you can see, although I prefer the black and white image:

Click images to enlarge:

I have made an appointment with Mother Nature today to be at the same spot, just a little earlier, in the hope she puts on the same light show as yesterday.

How did I get down the embankment? Well I didn’t. I walked along the tracks till I got to the station, where I knew it would be level….and safe. I then spent about an hour taking low light shots of the station (see below). I then used the back path to where I had left my car with it’s lights on full blaze and the drivers door wide open. Oh! and an imprint of my star shaped body in the snow next to it.

Have a nice weekend from Coco the red nosed photographer

SEX

The throbbing and vibrations I had between my legs; the pure orgasmic sensation of being as one; the total control of the most beautiful, sexiest thing on the planet was almost to much for my mere human manly senses. With one slight movement of my hand we would be off again into a world of ecstatic pleasure and power only few can dream off. One move of my hips would send us in too a direction so precise, so unbelievably accurate I had trouble hanging on. The smells, the exhilaration, the juices, the power could only mean one thing……..I was riding the new Ducati 1098S.

Yes, I have tasted nectar without a single bee being involved, the nectar only Ducati can produce and I have gone into desire mode with a capital “D”. I go to bed early, yet lie there all night thinking of strategies of how I can get one without involving a Pole and 2 cows. I’m listening to Deep Purple, Led Zeppelin, Creed and other romantic bike songs. I see and hear it whenever I’m out. Yes, I’m in love!

How did this chance encounter happen? I here you say. After all, there’s not a dealer in the world that has a normal 1098 to test ride, let alone the “S” version. Well the day started as most of my days have been for the last year: taking Andrea to some specialist about her slipped disk, only this time it was too the miracle surgeon, Dr. Gerald Mose who it seems has fixed the problem. We had a post op appointment in his practice last Thursday for him to check out how things were healing. I pulled up outside the surgery and was debating whether I should stay in the car or not. It was then that I spied the 1098 pulling up behind us, so the decision was made. The rest is a bit of a blur really: I got out and wandered over in a; I’ve seen hundreds of them and I’m not jealous really saunter so as not to seem too keen, when it only turns out to be Andreas Surgeon. Now he was cool before, he turned instantly into a demigod when I saw the bike, but when after 2 minutes of drooling he handed me the keys and his helmet he suddenly turned into the creator of the universe and any nothingness before that.

It’s at this point that I would like to mention the fact that this “creator of the universe” was in fact the size OF the universe and the world fitted into his helmet and the planets into jacket. This didn’t worry me to much; I think I would have rode with his waste paper bin on my head if I thought I’d get away with it. So long as I didn’t turn my head to quickly, sort of gave the helmet time to catch-up with me, I reckoned I’d be alright. OK, so the sleeves of the jacket were rolled-up to my arm pits and it was trailing on the ground behind me, but what did I care; I was about too ride Ducati’s second coming. I figured anyway that the prat factor would be neutralised by the sleek, sexy looks of the Duke.

Feeling like a five year old kid who had his fathers wardrobe on and was about to drive off in his new Bentley, I inserted the key and turned the ignition on. The electronic dashboard went though it’s checks and then welcomed me to the Ducati 1098 S, as if I needed to be reminded, but it was nice of the bike to do so. I pressed the starter button and instantly knew who Pavarotti (God rest him) had donated his tonsils too, DUCATI and they had transplanted them into the 1098. The sound is BIBLICAL.

So off I go, destination, the B27 (a semi Autobahn) with about as much vision as a first world war tank driver. I have about 5 minutes of single lane traffic and a set of traffic lights before I hit the “burn rubber” patch (no speed limit on German Autobahns). The 1098S proves it worth as I slot in and out of the traffic with the lightest of wrist action until the lights suddenly turn red. It’s at this point that I discover how mind boggling sharp the brakes are; the lady in the car next to me had a detail insight of what the underside of a 1098 looks like as the rear wheel nearly overtook me.

After what seemed liked hours and as the world started to go all foggy on me, the lights eventually changed to green and I was off; off like a turd on a hot shovel. Whilst I couldn’t exactly ton it at this point due to the cars filtering on to the Autobahn, I could gauge the depth of power control the 1098S had and it was perfection. I’ve been riding Suzuki’s, Yamaha R1′ and 6’s this year and have been quite impressed, but have always been careful with the take off as the front end comes up pretty quick. No such problem with the Duke. Eventually the road clears ahead; I have the helmet under control by biting the chinstrap to stop it flying off my head and I’ve managed to close any airways that kept turning the jacket into a parachute. I open up the throttle and release HELL and all the madness that comes with it. It was like Scotty had turned warp drive on as the countryside around me disappeared into blurry streaks of colours and objects and all the while there was an Italian opera playing right under my bum.

Unfortunately, my blast had to come to an end as the exit loomed upon me and besides, my jaw was aching. I crossed over the autobahn and repeated the experience back from whence I came, the surgery. Eventually, the good doctor asked if he could have his bike back as he wished to ride home and informed me that sitting on a stationary bike for 10 minutes outside a surgery is not good for the circulation; what does he know, he’s only a doctor and my circulation felt just fine.

Now I know they say it is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all, but this is different. I love my 916 and 851 but the 1098S has found and filled an empty section of my heart that I never thought existed and that empty space now needs to be filled. I just don’t know how and when. WHY IS LIFE SO HARD AND MEAN!……….now where is that Lotto form I always throw in the bin

Technorati Tags: Ducati , Ducati 1098 , Ducati 1098S , 1098 , Paul Crispin , sex , surgeon , slipped disk , motorbikes

It’s Those Sunsets Again

So once again I was returning home, this time from doing the shopping (you’ll know why I was doing the shopping if you had read my previous blog) and although the sun was slightly showing it’s head, the light was nothing to write home about. However, when I came out of my nightmare (supermarkets) things were slightly different. So off I shot to find the perfect spot to capture the pending sunset. See here for my panicking about sunsets

About half an hour later I saw a solitary tree on a hill; parked -up and ran up the hill with Poppy in tow, set the tripod up (did you hear that Fratch) and was just about to release the shutter when blow me down with a feather, this lovely couple, without a bye nor leave came waltzing up from the other side. Now me thinking “hey this looks good take the photo” :

Click image to view large

Not only had I still got the camera set on EV – 4 and the aperture wide open from my birdy photos (again see my previous blogs) but in Jpeg as well. So I quickly set the camera up again and checked in the view finder. This time though the couple, being the considerate Germans they are, decided to hide behind the tree:

Click image to view large

Well this totally ruined my shot, not only of my 2 lovers photo but also of the tree/sunset photo. What I haven’t mentioned is that this was taken with my new 70-300mm lens and was set at 300mm so all my shouts and hand signals only made them TRY and hide more. I had no alternative but to run up the hill and ask them to pose for me. Lucky they did and this was the result:

There were other things that happened as well, such as Poppy constantly running into the picture, but I don’t want to rabble on now, do I Tracie.

Technical stuff:

250mm Sigma. F16 1/90s shutter RAW ISO100

They’ve All Got Names Now

OK! I might be getting a little obsessive about these critters, but I still don’t think I have the perfect shot of them. The bird table is working superb, and they love the food….my god do they love the food, but I’m beginning to think they are on to me. Why do I think that? Well let me explain:

I put out their favourite food, on a perfectly level surface (I know this because I used the dusty spirit level on it) and there’s not a cat in site. I wait behind the camera, nothing. Not even a fly. Sometimes I would be happy with a fly, believe me! Yet the moment I sit behind my computer, away from the camera, it’s a Hitchcock movie; more Tit’s (they are birds Tracie) than Linda did Dallas. Get up and try and take a photo; GONE! Even the fly stays away.

Are these birds more organised than we think! Do they have a spotter out there with binoculars watching me get up and down, up and down every 2 minutes of the day. Have they a psychoanalyst Tit sitting out there watching my body language telling them when I’m fully engrossed in processing a photo and that now is the time to attack, ATTACK!

It’s driving me nuts. I wake up at night in a cold sweat thinking they’re nicking my haute cuisine bird food and I’m not there to take the photo. That one of them is hanging on to the bird table; tongue out, wings out stretched, dancing in front of the lens. I can’t take normal photos because in the back of the mushy pea I call a mind, I KNOW they’re taking the piss at home. My Wife, Andrea is in hospital (slipped disk, 1 year ago, second opinion, new scan, operation, coming out tomorrow), when I visit her, and I know white walls and no TV can be boring, but all I’m thinking about is that those fat greedy bastard Tit’s are scoffing my food…. they are getting a freebee meal and I could be getting that perfect photo. This is what they’re doing to me!

Now I know a lot has to do with the weather; it’s been greyer than a Russian political conference. To combat the weather I thought of using my halogen inspection light; this thing is more powerful than the lights they used in Berlin in 1944, all this seemed to do though, was too melt the feathers from their little bodies plummeting them to earth like a led brick. So shutter speed, ISO and aperture have not exactly been spot on, which is what you need for the perfect photograph, but come on birdies, play ball. I’m not a soup kitchen or a MacDonald’s for the feathered fraternity, I need a bit of pay-back! And soon! Before the wife leaves me, the neighbours call the white wagon and Nikon take the camera off me for misappropriate use of a precision instrument.

Anyway, the long and the tall of it is that I have started naming them; yes, it’s that sad. This photo is of Henry who is the daring one of the Tit group/family/commune and is usually the first one to visit the 5 birdie star table too critique the fine offerings I have to offer.

Click image to see the large version

The only problem was we had our first hard frost this morning, so the bird table was ever so slightly… a lot slippery. I’ll give him his dues though, he was also the second one to visit the table today as well.

My Bird Table

Regular visitors to my Flickr photostream will be well aware that I have recently purchased 2 new lenses: A Sigma 10-20 mm wide angle zoom and a Sigma 70-300mm telephoto zoom with macro; the later was a spur of the moment purchase as it was cheap (€135.00) and had good reviews.

The 10-20mm I had tested and knew that it was a useful and well built lens, but the 70-300mm was a shot in the dark for me. Naturally, when it arrived it was straight on the camera and out I was looking for subjects too test it on. And naturally, for me, the weather was crap. Anyway here is my first test shot:

Click on image to see larger version

Without turning this post into a review, which I don’t want to do, I am so far happy with the results.

So I’m excited and there were loads of birds flying around, but the light was flatter than a French pizza. I wanted to capture something out of this world and as I ……well you can appreciate how I’m feeling; I decided to get the birds to come to me, as it was imposable to take any photos of them in-flight . I was going to build a bird table and put it up right outside my office window.

Not being the handiest man in the world, I set about looking at what I have lying around; There was nothing that doesn’t need a saw and a hammer. Plan B. What have I got that is upright and I can put bread on? The garden table….no, the local cats can get on that. Plan C: The ledge outside the window…no, I wouldn’t be able to move for fear of freighting them. I know, I’ll glue a plank on my old tripod, that way I can move it around and even adjust the height; I’m a genius, go for it Batman, plan D.

Having dug through all the old skies, boxes of junk and motorbike spares, I finally find my trusty old tripod. How pleased it was to see me after all these years! Little did it know that it was about to be recruited for a far more important cause than it had all those years ago. Next was to find the plank/wood/surface for my adjustable bird table. It’s at times like this when you realise how much useless junk you really do have.

I finally find my plank/wood/surface, but with one problem, no hole for which to attach it. This means finding the electric drill my wife bought me for Christmas 1986. I can’t remember using it, so it must be in the box somewhere. Just to diverse a little here: My wife bought me this drill thing for Christmas, I can’t remember ever wishing one, even in a moment of mad passion, yet there it was under the Christmas tree. So why did she get all mad, and still reminds me and everyone that she thinks is listening, about a dryer I bought her for her birthday 2 years ago. Somebody explain that to me! (comments welcome at the end of this post) Anyway, I’ve found the drill and I’ve even found a drill bit that is the right size; this is going to happen this bird table.

The shins on ones legs are very delicate things: I’m about halfway through this plank/wood/surface that I’m drilling when all of a sudden, what must have been a stray bit of Kriptonite, catches on the head of the drill bit. The plank/wood/surface then spins at 10000 rpm on the coke can I’m using as a rest and clobbers me in the shins. Even Dubliner’s would have been shocked by the words I used, but they sure would have enjoyed the dancing. Needless to say, it hurt.

With the table now bolted together – I even painted the surface white so as to reflect light and improve the photo – and my shins throbbing like they were injected with Viagra, the tripod is finally a fully adjustable feeding implement for the use of photographing birds; a Bird Table. I then carry my new creation to the back garden and load it with bread, bacon bits and some old peanuts I found. I set the table up about 3 metres from my window and adjust the camera with the remote cable attached. And wait…

And wait. After about half an hour later a Blue Tit finally lands and as fast as Superman on ecstasy is off in the other direction with my meaty morsel. Every time I reach for the remote they see me and get scared; I had to do something. So I lowered the blinds just enough for the camera to see the bird table. Things start to happen, the word is out on the skies and the birds start to land. After about 30 photos I decide to review what I had: 30 super views of our fence in the background, the autofocus has been deceived. I try manual focus, but the depth of field is so narrow that the next 30 photos are all blurred. Eventually, I find that “Group Dynamic” is the way to go and return to my stalker position and wait….and wait. Nothing, no birds, what’s going on? The answer becomes obvious when you see the next photo here:

Tactics had to be rethought, climbing objects had to be removed and I had to think if this was all worth it. Finally, I get a half – and I mean half – decent photo of a Robin red breast: see here. I once again reposition the camera and concentrate the food within the lenses field of view. So after about 3 hours of trying to juggle between work and safari bird stalker I get a good enough, and only ONE good enough photo that I feel I can post on Flickr and here it is:

Click image to see enlargement

Was it all worth it? In a way, yes. I’m feeding up the birds before winter and I get to see them up close and personal. As with all my photos though, I still feel that I haven’t quite got the shot I want, so will I be at it again today? Watch this space!

The Calm before…. Revisited

These photos will be familiar too a few of you, Wendy! (see bottom) I wanted to take almost the same photo, but obviously at a different time of the year. Unfortunately, there was so much debris caught up along the edge that I couldn’t get to the exact location where I took it before and I wasn’t going to get my feet wet this time.

The original photo was taken in February and was reasonably easy to get too, yesterday I was reminded of my time in the Belize jungle; even Poppy had trouble getting there. As I was hacking my way through and rescuing Poppy from beneath an old fallen tree, the sky was a beautiful deep blue with nice fluffy white clouds and my heart was racing with anticipation at the thought of getting the shot I wanted.

Sods law would have it, that as soon I set up a dirty great big black cloud would cover the sun. Half an hour I had to wait before I had the light I wanted. In that time I must have changed the composition of the photo about a hundred times. If I could have taken the photo straight off it would probably have been perfect; “maybe I should try it at a lower perspective” or “maybe slightly to the right or at a wider angle”. This happens to me all the time when I have to wait and probably cocks the shot up as a result.

But the thing is, even at times when things have been right and I can take the shot, I feel I have to take a hundred more photos at different angles and dangles to get the photo I want. Which, when I upload them on too the computer, 9 times out of 10 the best photo was the first shot I took. The result: I now have a 3 month old 250gb hard drive that is 3/4’s full. I have also discovered that I have a phobia; Deletesphotobia – the fear of deleting my photos from my computer.

I don’t know why I have this problem, maybe some Shrink will trace it back to my Mother, but I find I get to the point of the process where Windows asks “Do you really want to delete this file” only to find that my fore finger solidifies over the left mouse button. It doesn’t make much sense, I mean, I can always go back and take the photo again and as I said before, the first photo was the one I will use, so why? WHY? WHY?don’t I just delete them!

I guess I feel I’m deleting a memory or that there may be hope for the photo; a couple of filters in Photoshop, cut it there or just give it a water colour effect and say that was my intention when I took the photo. Maybe, I doubt my judgement of what is a good photo, that the world wide audience would really like the shot I am about to send too the pixel graveyard called the Recycle Bin. Whatever the reason, I need to do something quick, before I splash-out another 100 Euros on a new hard drive.

Anyway, as usual I thought I could do this shot better, I’ll go back with my wellies on and go further out in the river; I’ll do it tomorrow (today, Sunday). It came therefore, as I bit of a shock this morning to find the whole world was white; it had snowed. Here’s the proof:

click on image for full size

I have never known snow this early in the year. OK! we’re 200 MTS above sea level, but it’s still October, there’s still apples on the trees for gods sake! Yesterday I was by the river in a t’ shirt today I’m walking the dog in my ski jacket; crazy. The long and the tall of it though is: I can’t retake this photo again, well not today, and it’s not because of the light, it’s because I’m going to sit by the fire with a hot cuppa coco and watch the MOTOGP. Have a nice Sunday, I will!

The original: The Calm Before…. as hanging somewhere in Wendy’s (wenspics) house

This is the Colour Version of the above B&W Click on image for full size

When Time is Short

As we live in a valley that goes from SE to NW we don’t often get to see sunsets. For that I have to drive up top in the hope of catching one; often there isn’t or I’m to late.

So last Tuesday I decided to drive the extra miles west to have a clear view of the impeding sunset. Now have you ever noticed how things start to go wrong when you know you have about 5 minutes to take a shot:

I arrived with the sun just caressing the horizon but still had about 1 km to walk over ploughed fields before I had a decent view. Halfway there I realise that the dog, Poppy thought every blade of grass smelt like doggy Channel No5 and was still near the car. I don’t know what purple faced monster she thought owned her, but it worked and she finally followed me.

1/2 of the sun was now showing on the horizon.

I finally get to where I think a good photograph could be had, only to discover that there was a dirty, stinking factory in the distance spoiling the view. I had to find somewhere else.

A 1/4 of the sun now showing on the horizon.

Eventually, I find the a decent spot with the added bonus of a prop; a cob of corn. I set the tripod up and get the camera out. The god-damn zip has stuck, not just stuck, it’s gobbled half the bag up. Finally, I get the camera out; it’s the wrong lens….or is it…yes it is. Change lenses, I can’t marry-up the lens with the camera “damn you Sigma, damn you, make the friggin white spot bigger next time”. Eventually, the camera is on the tripod with lens and I’m ready to take the shot.

1/8th of the sun is now showing on the horizon.

SNAP! Look in the display, too dark. SNAP! look in the display , to light. The only option is to bracket the shots for HDR. So I now have to change all the settings on the camera – which I have to say are pretty easy on the Nikon, but is still consuming precious time.

1/16th of the sun now showing on the horizon.

So I’m all set up, horizon straight, EV set at .7 etc and I’ve set the interval time to 2 seconds. I hit enter and 2 seconds later the camera starts blasting away. It’s about halfway through the sequence when the bloody dog decided she wants my corn and walks right into the shot.The purple faced monster returns.

A 1/32th of the sun now showing on the horizon.

The corn now replaced and the dog sulking behind me, I set the timer again only to see a couple in day-glow neon friggin green vests appear from the trees on the right and proceed to walk across the horizon to the trees on the left. Did they improve the shot? NO! In HDR they looked like aliens from the planet ZOG. It is at times like this that I often think a long range sniper rifle would be a good accessory to have in one’s bag.

1/64th of the sun now showing on the horizon.

The aliens now out of shot and the dog winging behind me; I’m ready to take the shot, AGAIN. Nothing happens. Try again; nothing, diddily squat, zilch….the bloody cheap after market piece off crap Chinese Ebay special worthless junk battery was dead. Now I have to get the camera off the tripod, carefully this time unzip the bag and get the spare battery out. This, of course, means that I have to set the camera/tripod up again and recompose the shot.

NO SUN ON THE HORIZON.

Anyway, as it turns out the shots without the sun look better than with. And the moral of the story: leave the dog in the car; get a sniper rifle and DON’T PANIC!

The Floods

Not a lot of people know this: but I used to be the boss of a golf course 10 km up river, Golf Club Schloss Weitenburg.

It was a beautiful course to work on, set in the Neckar valley, following the river as it weaved it’s way through the countryside, paradise. Unfortunatly, every time the heavens opened up the course would flood. Some times only 1 or 2 holes but most of the time 9 or 10 would become one and part of the river.

If we knew flooding was imminent the drill was to collect all the flags, benches, driving range balls and anything that was not bolted down before the river took them. We then had to set up a massive pump with armoured hoses to protect the club house. It was a right pain in the ass that usually happened at 3 o’clock in the morning and before a major tournament.

The Club motto was ” ..the golf club by the River”. It should have been ” the golf club under the River”

On really bad floods the town of Bad Niedernau would be totally cut off and the small village of Sulzau – where the GC was situated, would be sharing their breakfast with the ducks. I always complained the reason was because of the small hydroelectric power station located the other side of this bridge.

Crane Over Troubled Waters

So in 2001-2 they built a new dam (which they are repairing here), complete with an automatic water control system and since then there has been no flooding of any note. And guess when I left the golf club: 2002. The guy who took over from me didn’t understand the meaning of the word flood. But then, regular viewers of my blog will know; luck isn’t exactly my middle name. Have a nice day!

The Cows Part 3

The Cows Part 1

The Cows Part 2

So I’m getting settled down and relaxed with my new girlfriends and I think they are getting used too me to. OK, my bag looks like it’s been slime bombed and Poppy has retreated to a quiet corner of the field because she was swamped by them, but on the whole, things are going quite well.

So I look around to see how my bag was getting on, when all of a sudden I feel my camera being yanked from me. The amazing thing was that she hadn’t bit it, she was holding on with her tongue.

Now I had experienced what those tongues feel like previously; in my hair, my neck and I reckon I could have slid home on my back the amount of licking going on there, so knew they were a formidable piece of anatomy that had sandpaper as a surface.

I was beginning to have visions of Gertrude here being the first flickrite cow if I didn’t do something. Then up popped the little voice again ” use the flash doe ball” (the voice was getting a little pissed off with how the day was going), so as I was getting dragged around the pasture, much to the amusement of her girlfriends, I zapped her.

Of course when you point the flash at something, you are also pointing the lens and this is the result.

“It’s my Nikon”

So the moral of this part of the cow story is: In every cow there is a budding photographer and, just like most females have a tendency towards, thinks they can do better than the males

Mr and Mrs. Billy Goat

“Don’t approach a goat from the front, a horse from the back, or a fool from any side.” – Yiddish Proverb

In the next village from us, out on the pasture, the Shepard has left his flock of sheep and goats to graze. Now after my success, if that’s what you can call it, of photographing the cows in our village; I was full of confidence that this would be a piece of cake.

I have heard that goats, particularly the Billy’s can be quite aggressive, so was pleased to see that they were controlled by a net fencing of which I had no trouble staying this side of safe on. The only problem was that it, the fence, kept on getting in the way; especially with the wide angle shots.

So I get down on my knees and slowly poke the lens through the mesh of the fence. BLAT…the bloody thing was wired. Wired to a nuclear freakin power station judging by the wattage sent through me. Once in a life time you’d think would be enough, but twice in 2 days, somebody is trying to tell me something. Maybe I should try less dangerous subjects such as war or the inside of sharks mouths because cattle are doing my heart and family jewels no good at all.

Mr and Mrs. Billy Goat