The Photography of Dr. Jeffrey P. Harper

I had a week of vacation in February 2015 so I decided to take a couple of days and drive the two hours north to the mythical village of Findhorn, on the Moray coast.  I say mythical because during the high times of the 1960's hippie days (daze?), stories from and about 'Findhorn' (actually the Findhorn Foundation, one of the first intentional communities . . . essentially a commune) played large in the mythopoetics of the counter culture.  Tales of giant vegetables, communing with extra terrestrials, and telepathy were often associated with 'Findhorn.'  But Findhorn is also a quaint village and one-time major sea port.  I stayed in the 287 year old Crown and Anchor Inn.  Lovely.

 

I was very lucky with the weather . . . well, the light , anyway.  The temperature was around 36f (3c) in the daytime and 32f (0c) at night.  Good fro February.  Findhorn village was a treat to photograph.

 

Years of salty wind has weathered the town.

 

I scouted the town for lighting conditions before I brought my camera out (Fuji X-T1 with 56mm f1.2 lens).

 

The colors and textures of the aging surfaces were beautiful.  I enjoyed this door with the home-made vent holes.

 

I took a walk out on the 300 year old quay to get a look at Findhorn.

 

Time, weather, sea water, and an invisible hand . . . .

 

I have no idea how old these quay stanchions are . . . hundreds of years?

 

Too much color and texture.

 

The village of Findhorn has a lot of Old World charm.

 

Lovely old stone buildings with slate roofs.

 

I enjoyed walking around in the quiet streets and lanes, looking for color and pattern.

 

The house next to the Crown & Anchor Inn was lovely.

 

Although it was late Winter, everything was trimmed in Findhorn Village and waiting for Spring.

 

In these far northern latitudes it seems like every hour is the golden hour for photography.

 

You could make a fine arts book on these small Scottish coastal village houses.  Such a warm and lovely feeling.

 

The austere rough stone masonry has a beauty all its own.  I like it . . . it is so organic.

 

Nice color at this artist's house.

 

The main avenue in Findhorn makes a loop . . . and comes back around to this church.

 

Along the end, and behind the town of Findhorn is the North Sea.

 

I wasn't the only person out along the sea coast . . . but this man was a bird watcher . . . he had strong binoculars only.

 

I went to the beach several times, once along this foot path.

 

The sun came and went all day long.  The beach access though the dunes.

 

Very handy.

 

The inviting North Sea.

 

The wind was so strong it blew the sand from around any pilings around. . .

 

FINDHORN FOUNDATION - the place hippie dreams are made of.Although Findhorn village was sweet and quaint, I had come to pay my respects, and to personally see for myself, the famous Findhorn community, or commune as we hippies thought of it in the late 1960s, now known as the  Findhorn Foundation.

 

I thought it funny how few expectations I had about Findhorn  before coming here.  I only knew of the stories of a community in Scotland that had people who could communicate with the nature spirits . . . who rewarded them with giant vegetables that grew out of unfertile, rocky soil.

 

This could be anywhere in Jackson or Josephine counties in Oregon . . . hippie architectural chic.

 

Findhorn community was a trailer park (caravan park in the UK) before it was an intentional community and ecovillage.  There are still some wonderful old trailer homes dotted around the property.  This one has the requisite gnome and Beatles homage display. I'm glad there are trailer homes here . .  if one is a renunciant, living a spiritual life, it doesn't really matter what you live in . . . and better to recycle than to cut trees or use other energy sources to construct a house . . .

 

On the other hand, there were clusters of these rather Scandinavian eco-condos around the property as well.  This is a part of the Findhorn Ecovillage, I think.  I didn't get a map at the visitors center.

 

It was a beautiful morning . . . the earliest signs of impending Spring were everywhere.

 

There were plenty of unconventional structures everywhere . . . .

 

It was nice to see that there is another spiritual traveller on this planet who will return again because of attachments to fast and cool cars.  Yes, this is a 1953 MG-TD.  Findhorn is NOT a monastery.

 

There are many interesting things to look at around Findhorn.  The old sits beside the new and the funky beside the modern.

 

The '60s counter culture aesthetic abound.

 

The Findhorn Foundation runs a program of spiritual and therapeutic workshops throughout the year.  I am assuming these come from a sensitivity training workshop, but I am at a loss as to how the therapist/facilitator uses them.  Very photographically interesting, however.

 

This is the current Findhorn Foundation program as of April 1, 2015.

 

I hoped these were where they were as a result of a Graffiti and The Self workshop.

 

Workshop activity or resident youth protestation, or both?

 

I'm glad I had my camera with me . . .

 

I am in the habit as seeing human artifacts as just that: the work of an individual person on a particular day and time.  I have this feel about almost everything I see and touch that is of human origin.

 

The sales office trailer home for the new, yet to be started, condominium project - £78,000.oo for a one bedroom flat.

 

Time and weather.

 

A good place for  old friends to meet and shoot the spiritual breeze . . . some time ago.  How about fixing this one up . . .

 

I decided to see if I could find my way from the Ecovillage through the dunes and on to the North Sea.  There must be a path.

 

Indeed, there was a beautiful path though an extraordinary wood.

 

The woods are managed, not wild.

 

A quiet wood.

 

If you erect a wind power generating tower near a hippie commune you have to expect the graffiti is going to be cosmic.

 

The wooded path led me through the dunes.

 

The Scots are great about providing well marked trails through nature . . . nature walks everywhere.

 

Down to the beach . . . again.

 

The dunes were sandy, but the beach was a stretch of small pebbles for five miles all the way to Burghead.

 

A stones' throw from the spiritual community were these WWII bunkers that had been eroded into the sea . . . I guess there might be a silver lining to this sea level rise . . . .

 

WWII bunker . . .

 

BurgheadI spent a good part of each day exploring the other seaside villages in the area.  This is Burghead . . . a village built on a small peninsula.  The town is surrounded on three sides by the North Sea.

 

Fishermen's houses in Burghead . . . a very windswept and austere town.

 

Burghead harbour looking west from up on the promontory park at the end of the town.

 

The views from the Burghead Visitors Center looking east were scrumptious.  I could barely stand up or hold the camera steady in the 80-90kph wind!.

 

The Burghead Visitors Center marks the end of the peninsula . . . along with a monument marking the site of an ancient Pictish fort dating back thousands of years.  In fact, Burghead is believed to be the city Castra Alata in Ptolemy's early geography of the British Isles.

 

Not much is left of the Pictish fort as a result of the harbour construction in the 19th century.  The ocean views here were fantastic. The wind was incredible!

 

These homes were situated out on the unsheltered tip of the Burghead peninsula. 

 

Every house in Burghead has this view of Findhorn Bay.

 

I drove through the little sea port town of Hopeman on my way to Lossiemouth.  I loved the place names in Moray.

 

Although most of the coast is rocky, there are are also beautiful beaches around Hopeman.

 

The sea and beaches here were beautiful, but there were many low flying jet planes near Findhorn and Lossiemouth, both of which have major British Airforce bases nearby.

 

The road into Lossiemouth passed yet another golf course.  Yes, Scotland is the home of golf and you see golf courses everywhere you go.  I tried to go to that lighthouse you can see in the background but failed to find the access road!  I was disappointed.

 

Lossiemouth has been a settlement or town for over 1000 years.  It also has a fine, photogenic harbour.

 

The city fathers of Lossiemouth did a fine of developing the old warehouses along the quay into shops and restaurants.

 

Lossiemouth harbour is protected by mammoth sea walls.  The North Sea is a wild sea.

 

A wonderful old launch and it's reflection at rest in Lossiemouth Harbour.

 

A surreal Lossiemouth breakwater holding back the pulses of the North Sea.

 

Many beautiful scenes to see . . .

 

I stopped in at a picturesque 19th century hotel for a delicious double latte.

 

There was a nice beach just outside of Lossiemouth.

 

Lossiemouth beach access.

 

I hated to leave Lossiemouth and vowed to return one day to explore it more thoroughly.  But I had a few stops marked on the map to see before it got dark . . .and I didn't want to be out on the small roads on my way back to Aberdeen in the dark.

 

My next stop was the rural Birnie Kirk, founded in 1040, but burned and sacked many times. The structure you see here is still the original 12th century construction.

 

The old folk had no trouble accepting the fact that we would be bones one day . . . and our dearly departed would be bones too.  I've seen these skull and bones grave stones throughout Scotland.

 

Although it was a beautiful (but cold) day when I was there, the moss and lichen on these grave stones indicate a wetter climate.

 

Birnie Kirkegaard (that's 'churchyard' in Danish) was a beautiful place to contemplate my mortality.

 

Ironically, although it was mid-winter, the first signs of an approaching Spring I had seen this year were these snow drops blooming on the graves at Birnie Kirke.

 

I really enjoyed hustling my little boy-racer Juke NISMO around the twisty country lanes of Moray.  It is the perfect car for this purpose . . . it even has torque-vectored AWD for when the road gets slick.  Fun, fun, fun.

 

A perfect mid-February winter's day in Moray, Scotland.

 

The Amazing Spynie PalaceSometimes you get lucky.  While driving home to Aberdeen on a small shire road I spotted a sign that directed me up a drive to Spynie Palace.  I arrived at this gate house and parked.

 

I had no idea what to expect as I walked up the tree lined gravel road.  It was a perfect day.

 

I began to make out the shape of something though the trees . . . .

 

At last  . . .  I got a good glimpse of the palace tower.  Wow.

 

There it is.  Wow!  Spynie Palace, also known as Spynie Castle, was the fortified seat of the Bishops of Moray for about 500 years. The founding of the palace dates back to the late 12th Century.

 

Talk about serendipity! Spynie  Palace has a fabulous history . . . "Ruxby, an agent provocateur of Elizabeth I of England, who had tried to lead Mary, Queen of Scots, into a plot with English Roman Catholics, was imprisoned in Spynie Castle in 1566 for eighteen months.

 

The palace is surrounded by spectacular Scottish countryside.

 

The clear light, deep shadow, and color of sky and castle were perfectly coordinated for these wonderful photographs. 

 

I enjoyed walking around the tower thinking about what would make an interesting angle for a photograph.  I didn't have to think too much . . . . I'm glad I had my new polarizing filter with me to try out.

 

There was a visitors' center . . . closed except for the toilets (thank goodness!).

 

This was the only decorative element on the otherwise austere tower structure.

 

Spynie Palace was built in many phases over it's 900 year history.  The chapel (left) and other structures were under restoration by Historic Scotland, which I am a member.

 

Chapel and quarters.

 

Partially restored chapel and former main gate.

 

The Moray countryside in winter on a clear, cold day.

 

I took hundreds of great photos here . . . but, alas, I can only share a few of them here.  It was a magic afternoon in Scotland.

 

I'll be back in the summer to be able to go inside the tower.

 

I made a wrong turn, as if pulled by an inviable force, into a little village and suddenly stopped beside a dilapidated corrugated shed . . . my obsession!

 

I made it home before dark, and this big rain cloud . . . . Another memorable couple of days in Scotland.

I have three weeks off for Christmas/New Years holiday every year.  Neither of us had ever been to South America, so why not this year.  There are many issues and complications for my wife to get visas in many South American countries, but Argentina was most amenable . . . and number one on my list of places to see was Tierra del Fuego and the high dessert passes of the Andes mountain range . . . Argentina had both!  So we set off from Aberdeen International Airport one cold December morning bound for Buenos Aires, via Frankfurt, Germany! 23 hours later we landed in Argentina!

Our trip plan was to spend equal amounts of time exploring the city of Buenos Aires, experiencing adventures in nature around the Patagonian town of Ushuaia, and the wine producing area around Mendoza, which also served as a gateway to the high Andes.

 

We arrived late in Buenos Aires and made our way to our boutique hotel in the Palermo district.  It was wonderfully warm in the evening, as Argentina was in their summer months.

 

The next day was a Sunday, so we took the underground to the famous Sunday Street market.  I loved the street art in Buenos Aires.

 

Buenos Aires is a very colorful city.  Now I know why the police wear the bright orange vests - urban camouflage!

 

There were many street performers out, like this puppeteer.

 

The street market was in a part of town that had many antique and knick-knack shops.

 

This [embossing?] machine was just waiting for a collector.

 

We spent the next three days exploring the vast city by foot . . . and shopping. I discovered this sculpture 'grave yard' for old statuary . . . and perhaps some new ones.  Very photogenic.  I took many, many photos in Buenos Aires and will, in the near future post the rest of the good ones here.  BE PATIENT!

 

Ushuaia - The End of The World!

From the lovely warmth of Buenos Aires, we arrived back in the cold again in Ushuaia - fin del mundo.

 

The views of the southern Andes were breathtaking.

 

Ushuaia harbour, where cruise ships stop for supplies, and specialized ships depart for Antarctica.  The city of Ushuaia is the furthest south of any city on earth.

 

The sunsets from our hotel room in Ushuaia were magnificent.

 

We had several meals of Patagonian King Crab.  Extraordinarily yummy!

 

It was mid-summer in Ushuaia and the flowers were all in bloom.

 

The poppies were especially beautiful.

 

Unfortunately, all the small over night cruise ships to the local glaciers were booked even before we decided to go to Patagonia (we tried to book in September), however, good guide books suggested hiring a taxi for the day in front of the ship passenger terminal, which we did one day.  We went out to the Tierra del Fuego National Park which is adjacent to Ushuaia.  We saw a lot there, and I will post more photos soon.  This is a beaver dam.

 

One of our days in Ushuaia was wet, so we took a half-day bus tour north up into the southern Andes.  Marvelous views all the way.  We stopped often at all the points of interest.  We were glad we took the tour . . . we saw so much beauty.

 

We had an excellent and informative bus tour guide.

 

The bus tour went as far north as Fagnano Lake.

 

It was hard to believe that this was a lake!  Lake Fagnano is fed by high Andean glaciers which give it the distinctive green color.

 

We drove back to Ushuaia through the high pass of the south Andes.

 

The following day we took another tour, this time to a science center that finds and preserves whale bones for display in museums around the world . . . whales that have dies a natural death.  The tour also would take us to see PENGUINS!

 

It was summer in Patagonia and the place was alive with flowers.  Our penguin expedition  left from an old homestead.

 

It was a grey and damp day when we headed off to see the penguins.

 

We took an inflatable boat out to an island  . . . .

 

The island was full of hundreds of penguins . . . of different varieties.

 

Our eco guides taught us how to act and react to penguins (move slowly and do not reach out to them or give them anything).

 

There were penguins everywhere!

 

Penguins are not shy.  I guess they thought we were just really tall penguins.

 

There were many pairs of penguins.

 

Because penguins are not shy, I could go right up to them and take close-up photographs.  Fantastic!

 

A mother penguin protecting her little gosling.

 

We returned to Ushuaia after a quick stop at this vintage Patagonian out house.

 

Patagonia was wonderful, but we said good-bye . . . and flew off to Mendoza in the far airid northwest of Argentina.

 

MENDOZA

Our time in Mendoza was split in three (3) parts, with a return to the city each evening. 1) The desert road and winding dirt road up the mountains on Argentina Highway 52; 2) The Uco Valley wine growing region an hour out of the city (and a surprise!); and 3) The drive up Argentina Highway 7 to the Chilean boarder through the magnificent high Andes arid pass.

Central Mendoza was a tree-lined and charming old provincial town.

 

The city is built around Independence Park, where people congregate in the evenings.

 

As Highway 52 left the city of Mendoza, the houses became older and made of adobe.

 

A cactus in the sky.

 

As is often the case in a desert environment, there are different zones created by differences in elevation, moisture, and soil . . each with its own unique flora and fauna:  I passed through a zone of cacti.

 

Driving through the high desert scrub brush towards the Andes on Highway 52 . . . one of my favorite things to do is drive on small desert roads with the horizon far off at the end of a ribbon . .  and the windows all open with the radio loud.  I hadn't done that in a long tome.  Too long.

 

Such a lovely place!

 

A white Catholic altar . . . in the middle of nowhere . . . made it somewhere.

 

The weather alternated between cloudy with a light sprinkle and bright sunshine.

 

As I neared the base of the Andean foothills, I came upon a zone inhabited by Alpacas, a relative of the Llama.

 

The group of Alpacas stopped to check me out.  They are ridiculous with cuteness!

 

This is what I had come to see . . .

 

. .  the secret valleys up along the twisting gravel mountain road.  Astonishing!  This is my favorite topology and geography. 

 

And by 'Twisty Road' I mean very twisty road!

 

Just me, my rent-a-car, and a winding mountain track.  I loved driving up into the hills on this road.

 

I ran out of time before I ran out of wonder - I didn't want to drive back in the dark.  The view from the top was vast.

 

I had to chuckle at this sign . . . . talk about understatement!

 

I saw one other Alpaca high up on the mountain side.

 

I got out of the car and took a short walk to a promontory overlooking the big plain, the Pampas, of Argentina.  There were beautiful plants in bloom . . . and hungry wasps.

 

I took in one last grand view and drove back down the mountain to Mendoza. The next day, New Years Day, we would go to the Uco Valley vineyards.

 

We got up early, even though we had celebrated New Years Eve at a fun party with a bunch of vacationing Brazilians at the Hilton the night before.  The Uco Valley also had beautiful old adobe vineyard structures.

 

I love the character, like a face, of old doors and windows,  I was in photographers' heaven with these examples.

 

Old doors . . . what is the enticement for me?

 

It was a beautiful day for a drive around the vineyards of Uco Valley.  If you have ever had Argentine wine it probibly came from this valley.

 

We found a gourmet restaurant out in the vineyards and had a fabulous lunch.  The owner made some nice art with his empty wine bottles.

 

This old wall, something out of the 19th century, gave me the feeling of an era gone by.

 

We saw many of these roadside shrines along the hilly road back to Mendoza from the Uco Vally.  They were either 'Lets hope the Virgin Mary can assure good brakes' shrines, or were shrines to someone who lost their life on the highway nearby.  I stopped at a couple of them.  The next day my wonderful wife booked a surprise!!!

 

The surprise was a day spent at a mountain hot springs spa!  Win Win!

 

A natural hot spring has fed the spa for over a hundred years.

 

A little cold glacial water from the river is added to each pool so that they become progressively less hot the further down you go.  You start at the bottom and work your way up until you arrive at the pool that is cooking you.  I got cooked . . . turned lobster red and had to be told to get out and get in the cooling shed!  We spent a wonderfully relaxing day at the spa.  The price included a "buffet lunch" . . . which turned out to be a feast of every kind of food know to mankind . . . from Japanese to Indian, to health food, to Argentine delicacies, all of it delicious.  We stuffed ourselves!

 More to come!

 

 

In mid July 2014 we loaded up the car and headed out for a two week road trip up to the Orkney Islands and returning along the top of Scotland and the northwest coast.  AMAZING BEAUTY!

The northernmost parts of Scotland were our objective.  From Aberdeen to Inverness and then on up to the ferry crossing at John O'Groats to the Orkney Islands, then back along the top of mainland Scotland and on down the North West coast to Ullapool before returning to Inverness and then home.

 

There are no large, divided highways in the North of Scotland.  As a result, the route luckily passes through many small villages.

 

I picked up my wonderful wife in McDuff, after her golf tournament.  We headed to Inverness for the first night.  The River Ness passes through Inverness.

 

Inverness is a city of church spires, old bridges, and castles.

 

Inverness Castle.

 

A scene along a sunny summer Inverness street.  Very pleasant.

 

If you know me, then you know I love the blues music.  This busker, the one-man Bang On Boogie Band, was fabulous.  He played several of my requests, and I rewarded him handsomely.

 

Of course, I couldn't pass up taking photos of old windows and doors . . . as is my custom.

 

We terried in the berg of John O'Groats before going out to the ferry terminal.  Here we have the Maritime Museum.

 

We enjoy poking around the craft shops in small Scottish towns.  This one was a cooperative . . . and we bought a few nice things here.

 

I milled around a crabbers' dock snapping away.  That's the ferry terminal and dock in the distance.

 

A heavy mist engulfed us as we neared the ferry terminal at John O'Groats, the furthest point North of the mainland UK.

 

We waited in line for the ferry boarding.  In the summer high tourist season, you have to book in advance for the Orkney Island ferry - we did months before.

 

I walked around the ferry staging area looking for nautical photos as we waited.

 

Looking back along the coast to John O'Groats.

 

At last our ferry to the Orkney Islands arrived.

 

We drove as far north as you can go and then boarded a ferry to the Orkney Islands.

 

The view on the ferry crossing was mystical.

 

Small islands in the Orkney chain appeared in the murky gloom . . . and disappeared.

 

Our first view of Orkney Island late in the late afternoon.  We drove across several smaller islands (South Ranaldsay and Burray Islands) before having a major drama finding the owner of our self-catering apartment in Kirkwall . . . to get the keys.  It took hours, but the silver lining was discovering a nice Chinese restaurant right across the street.  There is a Chinese restaurant in every single town in Scotland, no matter how small or remote!  The owner's daughter finally showed with the keys . . . but not until we had a nice Chinese meal.  We went to sleep early.

 

The next morning we followed the GPS to the little town (pop. 2,100) of Stromness for a walk and some lunch.

 

We spend most of the rest of the day snooping around in the narrow streets of this 16th century fishing village.

 

Stromness was extremely photogenic.

 

Stromness is not a tourist town . . . it is a living, active fishing community.

 

We had five perfect days of weather on beautiful Orkney . . . a rare occurrence we were told.

 

The many bays and inlets of Orkney Island offered stunning views.

 

Many wrecks litter the Orkney coast.

 

Stunning views everywhere.  Not only inlets of the North Sea, but freshwater lakes everywhere.

 

Orkney is the site of some of the most significant archeological sites in the world.  This is the 5000 year old Ring of Brodgar.

 

Prehistoric archeological monuments and sites abound on Orkney.  This is the Ring of Brodgar.

 

The Standing Stones of Stennes.

 

Powerful.

 

Remnants of pre-history litter Orkney.

 

On the Bay of Skaill, sit of the most complete neolithic human habitation ever found.

 

Skara Brae, a complete neolithic village left just as it was during a storm 6000 years when it was abandoned.  The cookery and utensils were still in place, as was the stone slab furniture . . . like a Flintstones house . . . but the real thing.

 

A beautiful manor house, Skaill House, near Skara Brae.

 

Orkney is crisscrossed by ancient stone walls which show the effects of wind and damp weather.

 

We woke early each day and drove the small country lanes. 

 

I was infatuated with the light and textures of this abandoned Orkney farmstead.

 

Old Orkney Homestead on a murky day.

 

Yummie color and textures on this Orkney abandoned farmstead.

 

One wall of the homestead was still damp from the morning's windblown dew.  I can't seem to get enough of these old walls.

 

Wonderful summer wild flowers beautified the Orkney countryside.

 

I stopped often to shoot these magnificently aged and weathered Orkney doors and windows.

 

There was always something interesting and beautiful to see on Orkney Island.

 

We loved our five days on Orkney, but we returned by ferry to the mainland of Scotland.  The tiny roads across the top of Scotland offered fantastic views.

 

Not far from the John O Groats ferry was the Castle of May.  We saw a castle sign on the road and just turned in the drive and discovered it!

 

The Castle of May had beautiful formal gardens. 

 

I could have stayed all day here photographing flowers . . . but we had to make our B&B.

 

Beautiful castle along the north coast of Scotland.

 

The beaches, mountains, and pastoral scenery were breathtaking.

 

One beautiful bay after another greeted us on our road journey.

 

We stayed in small village hotels . . . like this one in the little town of Tongue, Scotland.

 

We stayed the night at the Ben Loyal Hotel in Tongue, Scotland.

 

Our hotel room in Tongue was clean, cheap, and over the bar.

 

This part of Scotland has some of the most beautiful scenery I have ever seen . . . and I have seen a lot of this world.

 

Many rivers to cross.

 

The sea views came and went.

 

A fantastic road to drive.

 

The trip was made more interesting by historical and geographical information signs.  Thanks Scotland.

 

This is the Coldbeckie Shore referred to in the above sign.  The road was one continuous amazing view.

 

One does not usually associate Scotland with great beaches, but we saw some that would rival the best in the world.

 

The road would sweep inland past these beautiful lakes (lochs) and then turn back to the sea.

 

Just as I snapped the previous photo, a motor home with French license plates pulled up close to the guard rail and this guy popped out and snapped a couple of photos and sped off.  Gotta love the efficiency of the French tourist!

 

Ruins of old houses and castles litter the countryside.

 

Families were out playing on the beach . . . during a very short summer in this part of the world.  It rains almost constantly from October to May in this part of Scotland.

 

Fun scene.

 

The further west we drove across the top of Scotland, the wetter and more lush the scenery became.

 

The glens here were moist and green . . . vestiges of ice age glacial valleys.

 

The northwest coast of Scotland is famous for being wet, dank, and dark.  It was . . . as we neared Ullapool town along the Ullapool Loch it started to rain.

It was mid afternoon when we reached the town of Ullapool (founded in 1788 as a fishing community) . . .  gateway to the Outer Hebrides ferry services.

 

A darkened sky covered Ullapool Harbour.

 

The storm eventually lifted and the Ullapool quay, with its fishing fleet in port,  could be seen.

 

The quaint town of Ullapool lined one side of the quay.  We walked around and poked our noses into a few shops.

 

We bought a model fishing boat here to display in our front window back in Aberdeen (like everybody else does!).

 

I loved the moody, and ever-changing, light along the Ullapool quay.

The markets, shops, and bazaars of Istanbul are full of a kaleidoscopic array of things . . . lots of things . . . like these wonderful tea sets.  We bought that very purple-tasseled one right there.

 

Beautiful things: Turkish tea sets.

 

We spent seven days in Istanbul, and I believe we spent half of our time snooping in shops and market stalls.

 

There were myriad things to look at, buy, and of course, photograph.

 

Lamps, lamps, lamps.  These shops made us continually recalculate our baggage weight!  Should we buy, or not.  We didn't get any of these . . . this time.

 

There were some very interesting shops in Istanbul . . . like this quill pen shop.  You don't see these too much any more.

 

They have nice soap in Istanbul.

 

Very nice, and aromatic, soap.  We bought several different scented bars.

 

Woven and knitted things outside The Grand Bazaar.

 

A Turkish flag hawker hidden in his wares.

 

There was no shortage of trinkets at the trinket shops.  These are made for tourists, although I saw plenty of Turks purchasing these trinkets too. An exploitation of cultural iconography.

 

Traditional Turkish blue glass 'evil eye' bobbles were everywhere in Istanbul.

 

The trinket shops were interesting, but the GOLD SHOPS were, well, dripping in gold like some potentate's secret treasure room!

 

The variety of things for sale in the bazaars was incalculable.

 

15th century Head Shop! Also the only merchant using white light to show his wares . . . they stood out like a fire in the night.

 

Need to dress your harem dancers?  No problem, there's a shop for that.

 

We spent some time perusing the fabric shops.  We brought home a nice tablecloth for the kitchen table.

 

I bought the Black Harley-Davidson Istanbul t-shirt here.  Cool.

 

It was the spice shops, and The Egyptian Spice Market of Istanbul, that really had fascinating 'things' . . . .

 

Spice shop array.

 

The Egyptian Spice Market of Istanbul (Mısır Çarşısı), selling spices, nuts, potions, teas, powders, and dried everything since 1660.  Amazing.

 

I spoke to the owner of this shop who said his family has held this exact location in The Spice Market since 1660, 355 years!

 

Dried fruits, some stuffed with nuts (my favorite), and mountains of nuts (my favorite) we fantastic!  We brought back a niece selection of these.

 

Figs stuffed with walnuts . . . I cannot imagine anything better to eat on this planet . . . OK . . . maybe durian or mango and sticky rice . . . but these are right up there!

 

I took way too many walnut stuffed fig photos.  These are but a few of the really good ones.  Notice the walnut stuffed dates nearby: also yummie.

 

These walnut stuffed dried apricots were also marvelous.  The snackage here was astonishing!

 

A strange twist:  right in the middle of the spice market was what looked like a wedding dress shop.  Complete incongruity!  A strange dream.

 

Nuts and dried apricots, dates, and figs.  Wow.  Just WOW.  These constitute 74% of my normal, everyday snackage.

 

The displays in The Spice Market were works of edible Art.

 

Dried whatnot . . . perhaps some kind of flower petal for tea-making.

 

Olives!  The Olives . . . . were . . . to . . . . DIE    for!

 

Fancy some tea?  The tea stalls were fantastic and brought about thoughts of ancient ships bringing these, and the spices, to Istanbul markets for further distribution throughout Europe.

 

Beautiful sage tea.  The color!!!

 

There were candies of every imaginable hue in the Bazaars, but it was the Turkish Delight shops and stalls that had the corner on satisfying the globe's sweet tooth.

Enjoy this slide show of the edible things of Istanbul!

 

If I take a lot of diabetes medication, I can get away with trying a little square of Turkish Delight once a day.  And did.

At a Turkish Delight shop on a cloudy day in Istanbul.

 

Each of these different types of Delight are ridiculously delicious.  The slice off a piece any size you want.  Nice.

 

The Delight shops were every five or six shops apart . . . calling out to you to submit yourself to a diabetic collapse.

 

As it turns out, there are all kinds of delights in a Turkish Delight shop. Some sell good coffee and baked baklava-like things . . . crazy sweet with honey.

 

These will kill you with sweetness.

 

Every 50 meters there is a shop like this with stacks of baked and assembled and rolled, and coated delights.

 

Baklava-ish temptations.  They know how to make desserts in Istanbul, that's for sure.

 

A stack of pistachio-filled baklava rolls.  Oh My God!

 

I got a headache just looking at these.

 

If there wasn't enough honey IN YOUR Baklava, you could buy more and spread it on yourself!  Incredible.

 

We were very happy when we found the fresh fruit stands and shops.  Pomegranate and orange juice is very thirst quenching . . . .

 

. . . especially after a really good Turkish pizza(!) made with twisted cheese:

 

Twisted Turkish cheese.  Mighty fine.

 

Turkish Efes beer is not too bad.  Not bad at all.

It was a beautiful Sunday a couple of weeks ago . . . and I didn't want to stay inside an iron clothes, so I drove the mile to the Aberdeen Esplanade.  I wasn't the only person with this idea.

 

I parked at the far northern end and vowed I would walk all the way to the harbour entry . . . two and a half miles away . . . and back.  There was a steady North Sea breeze, a calm sea, and large rolling waves, some quite large. As it was a Sunday, the horizon was full of offshore oil platform tenders, the trucks of the sea.

 

I enjoyed capturing the waves crashing on the embankments of the Esplanade. . . it was high tide.

 

I walked slowly along, camera at the ready.

 

Some of the waves crashed with a loud THUD.

 

Although it was sunny, the air temperature was only about 3c (39f), and breezy.  People are passionate about their sports and hobbies like this guy and his sea kayak.

 

This fellow was quite good at it.  His rides were not long, but he caught a lot of waves.  Fun.

 

2 1/2 miles up the arc of the Aberdeen Esplanade to the tall harbour control tower was my goal . . . I had never walked the full length before.  There were many people out for a stroll: couples, old people, women walking their dogs, and whole families strolling along the North Sea shore.  After I got up to speed, I left the camera in my backpack  . . .

 

. . . and only stopped once to take this photo of the lighthouses out at Rattray Head.

 

The southern end of the Esplanade is at the entry to the medieval fishing village of Footdee, known locally as "Fittie".

 

Footdee sits directly on the sea, protected by a small-ish sea wall.  I wonder what it is like here at high tide (like today) but with a big storm!

 

Such a pleasant place.  Old stone terrace houses, short doors, benches, and interesting trinkets in all the windows.

 

The poured glass window testifies to the age of this old door.

 

I am forever being surprised by Aberdeen: wonderful new places to visit right here in my new home town. Footdee.  The first mention of Fittie was in 1398.  The current village of Fittie "is a particularly interesting example of a planned housing development purpose-built to re-house Aberdeen's local fishing community. Laid out in 1809 by John Smith, then Superintendent Of The Town's Public Works." [citation]

 

So sweet.  These little places remind me a great deal of old Danish fishing villages . . . although the Danes would have plastered them and painted them with ox blood.

 

The sharp angle of the winter sun on this rough stone house created an interesting effect.

 

I walked back by the same house later as the sun was lower in the sky and the light yellowed from time to time.

 

In and among the more permanent stone structures of Footdee were these fabulously textured fisherman's sheds.

 

This weathered green shed caught my eye enough to want to do a study of its incredible surfaces . . . .

 

A late winter's sun's sheen on an old green fisherman's shed.

 

Yummie textures, light, shadow, detail, and color.

 

A nautical decorative feature added by who-knows-who, from who-knows-where, affixed who-knows-when.

 

I made it all the way to the old harbour tower . . . that had an inscription:

 

The inscription commemorates the 850 years since the founding, in 1136, of Aberdeen's Harbour Board!  That'd be 878 years this year . . . WOW!

 

At the Aberdeen Harbour I encountered this screaming fellow waving the Jolly Rogers. I kept my distance; I didn't know if he was protesting the oil company docks nearby, or he was a football (soccer) fan, so I walked back through Footdee toward the Esplanade and the 2 1/2 miles back to my car.

 

They don't make fishermen's sheds like they used to.  Too bad, as this one was beautiful in its own dilapidated and decaying way.

 

Corrugation!  I've got corrugation!  One of my favorite photographic subjects is corrugation and sundry things attached to it.  This shed was divine, but the window was worth a closer study.

 

Astonishing beauty.  I love this dilapidation . . . a picture of history itself . . . the work of time and weather upon a manmade object transits to a work of The Elements.

 

I left Footdee, a real, living, working, fishermen's village, for the crowds of the Esplanade.  I will be back here again . . . maybe to see if it is possible to rent one of those little sheds . . . I imagined a week-end retreat . . .

 

I joined the late afternoon throng that had come to look at the North Sea, and then quickly walked the 2 1/2 miles back along the Esplanade to my car.  A great day, yes, a great day.