I have a 23-year-old road bike that, well, I just can’t seem to get rid of. Maybe I will this spring. For now, it works, and it is about as old as my bike pump too, which looks worse for wear. Today I experimented with mounting the GoPro on my handlebars to see what kind of angles would be generated and to see what kind of emotions are communicated when someone is caught in the middle of a very aerobic sport. Biking is one of the most aerobic sports I know, and that is one reason I love it so. As I often do, I adjusted the settings in Lightroom to accentuate the contrast, which is a look I am growing accustomed to. Here’s to spring days, the simple pleasures of riding an old bicycle, and seeing rows of blossoming trees along a lovely lake shore.
A statue of Captain James Cook, who explored the waters known as Cook Inlet, stands on a bluff overlooking the waters where he set anchor (2010).
It was about 10 degrees below 0 (fahrenheit) when I snapped this picture at Kincaid Park’s beach, in January 2010.
In Anchorage I was amazed the ladies could still sport the heels with ice and snow, not to mention the skirts, when the mercury went south of zero. Northerners are hardy folk (2010).
I found these pictures among the many hundreds I took while living in Anchorage. These were all taken during a bitter cold spell in 2009-10, when temperatures plummeted to about minus 10 fahrenheit and colder. It was great for taking images. I remember getting some skin damage on my extremities on one outing. Now that it is spring in Seattle, I shutter to think I lived through this year after year, even with the beauty. That is my feeling today. It is one of joyous happiness.
North of Reykjavik sits a house of God, alone in the loneliness of the north Atlantic.
I visited Iceland in 1998 and did a drive around the island with an outrageously overpriced rental car. I enjoyed it, but was not overwhelmed by it. This location, about an hour north of the capital, Reykjavik, was among the most memorable spots. Here, at the edge of the world, sat an empty house of worship, battered by the wind and rain. I guess I have a fondness for remote sanctuaries. (Click on the photo for a larger image on a separate page.)
I met these Coptic young men at Meir Gergis, near Luxor, in December 2004. Copts are some of the world’s oldest Christians, and they number about one in ever five Egyptians, and yet have faced persecution and discrimination for decades, and at times violent attacks at their places of worship.
Outside of Luxor, Egypt, I visited the St. George Monastery, or Meir Gergis, and stumbled on a baptism. The visit was one of my highlights from my travels in the country.
During my two-and-a-half-week journey to Egypt ten years ago, I visited six Coptic monasteries. These are amazing places, beautifully preserved and vitally important to the Coptic minority in Egypt. During my visit, most were under armed guard by the state army, which I have read has melted away since the fall of Mubarak, and Egyptian forces have even participated in attacks on at least one of the most historic monasteries in Egypt near Cairo. You can read a little more about my visit to Egypt and the situation facing the Copts in an article I wrote in April 2013.