After nearly one week the storms have finally departed as Saturday started off with a perfectly blue sky (probably the nicest day I’ve had since I left California in September). Santa Barbara’s East beach was littered with numerous beached boats which were torn loose from mooring just off the coast; where the sea is normally calm and placid. Some of the boats might be salvageable while others seem to be a complete loss, unfortunately.
Unstad beach, Lofoten islands, Norway.
An unrelenting storm had been hanging over the islands all day, but the weather on the islands can be quite localized, so I took a gamble that the north side might have some better weather, and indeed it did. Emerging from the tunnel to Unstad, the snow had stopped and been divereted around the mountains that surround the village. I wish I had arrived earlier as the day was already late and darkness – and more snow – was soon to come.
Kjerkfjord as seen from near Reine, Lofoten islands, Norway.
This is the light at around 1:30 pm on the afternoon of January 6, the first day since mid December where the sun once again appears on the horizon at 68˚ north. Got lucky to have calm winds and mostly clear skies on this day. Imagine more or less the same light like this lasting for hours. Magical.
Several big storms have been blowing through southern California over the last days causing quite a bit of chaos to a place that is normally used to sunshine. High seas have torn several sailboats loose from their moorings and washed them ashore on East Beach near the Cabrillo Bath house. Went down to the beach early this morning in a brief pause in the rain to take a few photos. Now back at the house at 8:00 am, rain is pounding the windows and low rumbles of thunder can be heard every few minutes.
Haukland Beach winter, Lofoten islands, Norway.
When the sky is clear, the light as this amazing diffuse glow to it. Due to being so far north, the sun travel at much more of a horizontal angle than what occurs as one approaches the equator. So due to this, the period of ‘sunset’ or ‘sunrise’ light is extended into hours, not just minutes. In early January, the sun barely rises above the horizon so there is not really any direct sunlight, more like a 4-5 hour sunrise-sunset until the darkness of night comes by about 2:30-3:00 pm.
We’ve had a fair bit of snow here in the south of Wales (and the UK as a whole, causing quite a bit of chaos) over the last week (snowing right now as well). My current location is right on the edge of the Brecon Beacons national park, so it’s been nice to get up into the hills over the last days. On Sunday and Monday I was up on Pen Y Fan and Corn Du. Tuesday was a wonderful day up on Fan Fawr and this morning (Wednesday) was a dawn patrol run up Pen Y Fan and Corn Du again in hopes of a nice sunrise, which never materialized.
Panoramic image of view from Pen Y Fan looking towards Cribyn. Sunday was a day of 50-60 mph winds blasting across the summits and ridges throwing snow everywhere. A layer of clouds sat about 200 meters above the mountains forming a constantly changing show of light and shadow. A constant struggle to keep the lens free from spindrift – actually better to keep the lens hood off, as it would create some weird wind vortex that would bring more snow.
Pen Y Fan concealed behind clouds as seen from Corn Du. Monday was a much calmer day with slow moving clouds forming over the summits and then clearing again.
Abandoned house, South Ronaldsay, Orkney, Scotland.
I wonder what stories these old walls could tell. Once it was probably the center of a large farm. Times changed and the old ways lost their charm. The young generation left home for the glamour of the city. No one wanted to live on the edge of the world anymore. The house sat alone, empty. The paint faded. The roof caved.
Ring of Brodgar standing stones, Orkney.
Winter sunset behind Ring of Brodgar stone circle, Orkney
September snow falls on mountains along the Kungsleden trail, Sweden.
Autumn snow on rocky coast at Stamsund, Lofoten Islands, Norway.
