Slumming it in Dead Horse Bay
Bis repetita placent. Some places we visit more often than others, even if only because the tide has pulled us there.
Dead Horse Bay tickles a few of our instincts, being a foraging lucky spot surrounded by tidal flats and overflown by JFK giants, much quieter than its Jamaica Bay cousin Broad Channel, and with the odd resurgence of half-a-century old glass and metal artifacts as a bonus or a curse depending on one's point of view...
Signs of the past
When garbage was mostly non-poluting
American oyster catcher
Grave
Extreme low tide rehab
The nearby Marine Parkway Bridge to the Rockaways
Dead nettle
Yes, this is also Dead Horse Bay, Brooklyn, NY! (Prosecco being poured)
Poke weed
The end
American Southwest Slot Canyons - Here There be Magic
In 2004, about a year before I began blogging, I decided to go on a photography-slash-paragliding road trip to Utah and the Four Corners. I brought my Swing Argus paraglider along, bought a Canon G3 for the occasion and rented a 4x4 Jeep in Salt Lake City for two weeks.
Ahead of me lay thousands of miles of dry, heat-scorched, blood orange tinted landscape, a world of stone, sand and immense skies. I would drive for 10 days, camping in national parks, and then come back to the city and rent a cheap hotel room to shower thoroughly and fly as much as I could before returning to Little Cayman.
I found my way down to Arches National Park, ricocheted off Monument Valley, dropped down to Page, Arizona and its mesmerizing slot canyons, slept on the shores of Lake Powell, traversed to Zion and Bryce, and eventually climbed back up to the Salt Flats.
Later I flew from the Point of the Mountain in southern Salt Lake and above Orem, on my first solo cross-country, a modest 10 miles or so across a giant valley to the next mountain range and back.
The trip's pictures were a revelation. My new camera could shoot RAW allowing for
These images are stunning. Those cabs…that’s killer.
You’re so right, Marie dear. You’ve taken the words out of my fingers.
But I’ll repeat them : stunning, killer, with colours bursting in every direction. New York IS a feast for the eye of an artist whom we both love.