Sunday, 26 August 2012

Dawn at Danes Dyke, Blustery at Bempton and Beverage-less in Bridlington

Another early start, but yet again no sunrise.  Not missed this time but buried under fold after fold of cloud.
 
 
 
Danes Dyke was the choice but  it was a bit gloomy and overcast.  Brid sat in the background...
 
 


 
 
If the pics look a bit blue it is because it was nearly dark and I had to push up a few levels to get a picture.
 
 







Piddocks!

 
 
I don't know if you noticed, but I just used an exclamation mark, a screamer, no less, but I will try not to do it again.
 

 
 

Dane Dyke's attractions faded quite quickly in what felt unseasonably cool. 

To Bempton then.  The puffins have gone, of course, but the gannet chicks are clinging to the cliff edge saying "Feed Me, Feed Me" until they are so fat thet they fall off.  Fledge I think it's called; I think of it more as a sort of "plundge".  They can only breed where there are cliffs that the young can fall into the sea when they are too fat to hang on.




It is quite high up at Bempton...



The gannets tease the bad photographer, they point their beaks so that they are just out of focus.  They clearly know that under this poor light that depth of field is compromised and they choose to point their beaks away when photographed...


Gannets are  fantastic, even when I can't take a decent photo.

A third year juvenile, you can tell by the piano key marks on the wings ( see I read and learn ).




 



A drilling rig moved into view...




Alas there was no clear view to decide what it was.

 
- - - - -

Unfinished business at Lisset.

There was a bit of a breeze so we went under the turbines and found 68 dB which is the level of normal conversation so - so far so good.  I have to say that where they are I quite like them. A bit of change of heart, but I still don't want to see them all over the Wolds.

I had failed to actually photograph the memorial at Lisset which is quite powerful.  A local story about the squadron is here,  The pattern on the clothing are the names of the lost.


 

 

 

 

 

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