Over hill and dale and through the fence

I've been holding onto these photos for a year because I didn't know what to do with them. I finally just cropped them slightly and took out a few dust spots from Laurie's camera. Otherwise, this is what his camera saw.

This was late afternoon, last November, with the sun setting on the shore at White Rock. It was quite chilly, which may have had an effect on the light. The sparkles in the trees are Christmas lighting, I think. Laurie was sitting on the railway line, with the camera on the rail itself.

Looking west from the west end of the promenade area. Click to see what the rail does where it meets the fence.

Zooming closer, a minute later.

Looking east. Yes, the rails lie totally flat here; there is no hill. And the rail and fence are hopelessly entangled again.

From the inner rail. Up(not a)hill, down(not a)hill.

Winter on the shore is always wonderful, even with our backs to the water. When it's not raining, that is. I wish it would stop.

Afternoon walk

Laurie was playing/experimenting with odd camera angles at White Rock, and this was one result; a couple walking along the railroad track, against the muted colours of late fall vegetation. To me, it looks like an impressionist painting.

Untitled

I did nothing to this, other than resizing it for the blog.

One-track mind

I'm too tired to think, maybe even to finish this before I fall asleep. The past few days have been exciting and a bit tense. All good, and I'll have the story for you as soon as I get it all sorted out, but now I can hardly keep my eyes open.

So I hope you'll forgive me if I'm a bit silly tonight.

On the White Rock railroad track, last week:

A sliver of golden hillside, reflected.

Down at ground level, this way, I remembered ... Sixty years or so ago, I put a copper penny down on that track, just ahead, around the bend. The train flattened it so that there's just a hint of lettering left. The trains went faster, in those days; the experiment, repeated now, nets me a squished penny, still identifiable.

I just went to look. After all those sixty years of peregrinations, packings and unpackings, I still have the penny.

A more conventional view. Looking east, towards the pier.

Looking west. Someone has lit a bonfire on the beach.

And now, goodnight!