The top of the world

More mountaineering this afternoon, but thankfully by car. We are going to 'climb' to the peak of Mont Ventoux, part of the Tour de France and much favoured by ambitious cyclists.

 

En route we're challenged to capture some sort of cycling images summing up the majority of the traffic we zoom past, though it's a bit of effort for our hired dad-car. I opt for making use of the strong shadows.

 

It really is beautiful when we reach the summit. Cyclists who've puffed their way up this beast of a climb are photographed proudly by the post marking the tipper most peak. It seems wrong to pose when we've been driven to the spot so I wait for a gap in the queue to clutch the post in triumph, to take my photo!

Curiously it seems higher up the top of the mountain, than when we were flying around in the big blue.

 

Above us are gliders seemingly flying too close to the sun. Haven't they heard of Icarus? This enormous peak is also a popular spot for skiing so the blue and red poles are there for the slalom, when of course the snow returns. The white rubble gives the impression of the cool slopes and from vantage position you can see further cyclists toiling up the winding road and the exuberant ones making the downward journey.

 

 

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Those magnificent men in their flying machines!

This holiday just gets better and better as this morning we have a surprise addition to the original Happy Camera itinerary, we're taking to the skies. Well at least that's the plan. However, when we arrive at the tiny air field, our intended four-seater plane seems to be in pieces strewn across the grass. This is somewhat alarming and making me rather disinclined to take to the air strapped into this clearly not happy propeller plane. I was already a little trepidatious about the danger of flying in such a small flimsy looking plane, but it's a new experience and I keep being assured that the pilot wouldn't take off unless he was positive it was completely safe. Hmmm, this is the pilot who is swearing in French and hitting parts of the engine. Yessssss, we're in safe hands!

 

 

The final insult is that our hire car (which we've been very derogatory of already in this trip) is used to jump start the ailing plane. Be still my beating heart! I distract myself by taking photos of the flowers, the scenery and the Spiderman plane still inside the small hanger.

 

 

 

Eventually the plane us making encouraging noises so I'm strapped in the back seat before I can change my mind. Of course the plane needs jump starting a second time, eek! I take a very rare selfie of my anxious expression, wearing the headphones and the wing (thankfully still attached at this point) reflected in my sunglasses. I'm not entirely sure what this would achieve, perhaps I figured it could be retrieved from my camera, should we crash, and be used as my final ever portrait. A cheering thought!

When we finally do propel ourselves into the wide blue yonder, the ride is surprisingly smooth. I had wished we thought about reflections in the windows and persuaded HiM to wear a quieter, maybe black shirt, so every single one of my photos doesn't have plaid in the foreground to try and extricate.

 

 

We make like a vulture and glide on the thermals over the mountains. We fly over Curnier, the village where we're staying. It transpires that our landlady is out in her garden waving at us! My camera cannot pick up that sort of detail though, HiM has borrowed the big-boy lens so perhaps can. Once we're up there, it was worth the drama and we have a soft, entirely trouble-free, landing. Yay, I live to take another selfie should I be so inclined!

 

 

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Crosses in the sky

 

The day isn't over. We have a steep climb to arrive at surely what must be the highest cemetery towering above the village below. It's a stone walled enclosure crammed full of higgledy piggledy graves which we carefully negotiate.

 

We ascend as the sun is setting casting a pink glow over the scene. The graves are chock full of figurines, flowers, plaques and pots. Some of the older ones are marked with ornate iron crosses silhouetted against the early evening skies.

 

 

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Messing around in Romney Marsh

I've been delinquent posting the fruits of my Robert Canis photography workshop to Romney Marsh, so will address that now. Another foray to deepest Kent and today on a very fine Spring evening with hopes of an interesting sunset.

We start off exploring the reeds in search of swans, their cygnets, flower specimens and water lilies. Robert reckons I can manage everything hand-held so I just carry my tripod from spot to spot.

Then we approach an infamous stone ruin of a church in Midley and enjoy photographing it from every possible angle. I love the young wheat and the texture it gives.

After we've had our fill here we trapse through fields of the renowned Romney Marsh sheep to find the perfect spot to set up our tripods and capture the sun setting on the curve of the marshy stream. Typically with all our walking about I've mislaid the quick-release plate for my tripod that was screwed (clearly not tightly enough) to my camera. I try and retrace my steps but we've covered a lot of ground. I'm so pleased I'm continuing my expensive habit of leaving something behind on every foray into Kent. I've shed several close-up filters on previous occasions and now a tripod plate has joined the hoarde.

I have to shoot all my remaining photos hand-held. In the future I'll always have a backup, just in case.

As we're heading off we espy a nice scene of a line of trees, find a good spot to park the car candidates fire off a few final shots.

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