The Pilgrim's Posts Lindisfarne.
- Thread starter Shaun Haselden
- Start date
Gary R. Smith
Well-Known Member
Why are they called the Pilgrim's Posts? How long do they go in that line? How much did you change your shooting point between these shots?
Gary Ayala
Well-Known Member
I enjoy how you captured a landscape, which 99% of people would yawn and keep driving, quite interestingly. Well done.
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Shaun Haselden
Well-Known Member
Gary Ayala thank you for your comments. At the time I took the shots it was raining quite a bit. I think that is what gave the look.
Shaun Haselden
Well-Known Member
Gary R Smith, thank you for commenting. They are called the Pilgrim's Posts because centuries ago they marked a safe passage across a bay that spread between the mainland and the island of Holy Island. The place is/was deeply religious hence Pilgrims. The posts carry on in that line for quite some distance, maybe half a mile, but bend slightly part was along. My shooting point varied by around ten footsteps left or right. Again, thank you for your comments.
Shaun Haselden
Well-Known Member
The year was 2005 and it was the month of November. I had driven hundreds of miles to visit this place and stayed local to it for a few days. I was carrying a Canon A1 with Fuji Acros 35mm film and a Hasselblad 500CM which was loaded with colour slide. The colour slide film was only Fuji Provia RDP 100, I had no alternative. I am not religious but this place is everso slightly strange in a spiritual kind of way. I got a feeling as to why they settled here.
Gary Ayala
Well-Known Member
Some places are like that. Some places trigger a response ... deep from our ancestral genes. Reminds me of my first visit to Kings Canyon, home to Giant Sequoias, the largest trees in the world. The road was winding and the canyon was shrouded in fog and mists. The deeper I drove the fog lessened and barely defined gray images slowly emerged from the fog as trees. It took a bit of time but I realized I was surrounded by Sequoias, trees so huge that from the car I could not see the bottom branches, only trunks. I pulled over and looked up ... my neck maxed out ... looking straight up and still not seeing the tops of the Sequoias, as hundreds of feet up, the treetops disappeared into the mists. I noticed the silence ... I was engulfed, submerged by the silence, the fog muffled all sounds. Fed by the mists, all I heard was individual water droplets dripping from the tips of the redwood's needles, quietly landing of the thick needles which blanketed the ground. It was so quiet, I instinctively walked slowly and cautiously attempting not to disturb the silence of the Sequoia's home. It was cold, but I didn't notice the cold. The mists I walked through were very wet, but I never felt any water. The silence was powerful and could not be measured by my human senses. Walking amongst these giant life forms, intruding into their world, tip-toeing amongst their wet and silent homes, touched senses I never knew existed ... opened feelings ... an inaccessible consciousness ... beyond cognitive or maybe precognitive ... perhaps best described merely as spiritual.
Perhaps the pilgrims felt similarly.
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