Posts Tagged With: house

Ever Northward

We are now near the town of Sauðárkrókur, which if you’re allergic to the weird typography is written as Saudarkrokur in non-Icelandic. That’s actually a little misleading since the third character, the ð, looks like a d but is actually pronounced th. But the main point is that it is at a latitude of 65.7°, which puts us about 55 miles (90 km) below the Arctic Circle. You wouldn’t know it from the weather, which was mostly sunny and mild today, reaching about 15 C (59 F). The relatively balmy temperatures and the sunshine, combined with much milder winds, made it a fine day to continue our drive to the north and take in the scenery, which at its most idyllic looked like this.

Iceland Grabrok and North Drone 2018-017-EditIceland Grabrok and North 2018-026Iceland Grabrok and North 2018-029

I took the top two via drone; it was a good day for that too. All three shots were taken about halfway into today’s journey, when we stopped for lunch at a turnoff from the road next to the river in the picture. Our company was a team of sheep herders and their dogs and ATV, rounding up an enormous flock on a nearby hillside.

Our first stop of the day had actually been an hour earlier, at the Grábok (the name means “gray rock”) cinder cones, the remnants of a not-completely-ancient volcano. It’s setting is a stark volcanic landscape with close greenish-yellow ground cover, as you can see here.

Iceland Grabrok and North 2018-012

This particular environmental motif is typically Icelandic: if you live outside of the city you are morally obliged to build a white farmhouse with a red roof on an otherwise desolate landscape with mountains in the background. If you don’t believe me, compare that last photo to the first one in this post after the lead-in paragraph. See?

Grábok is about 100 meters tall and has a convenient boardwalk leading up its side and around the crater rim. You can see it clearly in this drone view, taken from about 100 meters above the crater rim:

 

Iceland Grabrok and North Drone 2018-016

(I also shot a nice video of the drone flyoner, which I will post at a later date.) You may also notice a few rows of stones, about a quarter of the way up from the bottom of the image and about a quarter of the way in from the right. That is an archaeological site, the remains of a settlement dating from the 10th century, when the Norse first arrived in Iceland. In the century or so after those initial settlements, the locals were building sod houses like these.

Iceland Grabrok and North 2018-062

 

The walls and the roof are all made of chunks of sod as advertised, and since plants like to grow upwards, the roofs sprout. These particular guys are found at the  Glaumbaer Folk Museum, a little ways south of Sauðárkrókur. They are surprisingly sophisticated dwellings, extending two stories underground and containing kitchens, storage areas, and dormitory-like bunk bed sleeping quarters. The fronts of the buildings are made of wood as you can see (now reconstructed, of course), which raises the obvious question of how you build with wood when there are no trees around. The terrain is bleak and treeless, with not a lot of promising building materials. But we are very close to the coast, and so the answer is: driftwood! The early inhabitants gathered enough driftwood to build houses, furniture, and (I presume) horse carts.

Speaking of horses, there are a lot of them around. Small in stature but nimble on the rough ground and on ice, Icelandic horses are all the descendants of the initial cargoes of ponies from Norway, brought over in the 10th and 11 centuries. They still look like ponies, and according to my dictionary definition they are ponies, being barely 5 feet  (1.5 meters) high at the shoulder. However, you must not call them ponies here. To Icelanders they are horses, dammit, and if you call the horses “ponies” the locals will throw you into a fjord with your hiking boots tied around your neck.

I should also mention that they all have gorgeous manes; they all look either blow-dried or carefully windblown. You can admire the mane that this not-pony is sporting against a dramatic background.

Iceland Grabrok and North 2018-056-Edit

Beautiful, yes, but what are all these horses for? There isn’t a big demand for draft animals in Iceland these days, and a horse this size would hardly do the job anyway. The answer is that most are pets or used for riding, and the ones that aren’t suitable for either of those or for breeding are… eaten. (Do not tell my niece, who is a very avid and experienced horsewoman.)

I mention all this horse stuff because our lodgings this evening are a beautiful 3-bedroom guest house on a working farm about 10 km south of Sauðárkrókur. And by a “working farm” I mean that the owners were out all day gathering sheep into this pen:

Iceland Grabrok and North 2018-066

(The horns notwithstanding, these are all ewes. The males are kept separately.) Like most farms it is kind of in the middle of nowhere, so we returned to town for dinner, driving northward along the fjord around sunset as a sharply-defined cloud layer formed a few tens of meters over the water, hovering like a gigantic UFO.  The town itself is very small, with a only a couple thousand inhabitants, and just about the only restaurant was the suspiciously-named “Hard Wok”, whose two-page menus offered cuisine from about five different countries, including Chinese, Italian, and Mexican food. Our meals were surprisingly good.

Tomorrow, we fuel up — with actual diesel this time, thank you very much — and continue eastward and a little farther north.

 

 

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Categories: Europe, Italy | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Droning Over OBX

If you’re not from the east coast of the US, you may not be entirely familiar with the Outer Banks, an enormous barrier island beach vacation destination in North Carolina. The term “OBX” to describe them is a relatively recent marketing invention; I don’t recall ever hearing it when I was a kid. In fact, the term “Outer Banks” itself only dates from the 1930’s.

The area is one of the longest pleasure beaches in the world: a 200-mile (320 km) strong of barrier islands more or less waiting to be destroyed by a hurricane. Unlike many barrier islands, OBX is (are?) not anchored by a coral reef, making them particularly vulnerable. Mother Nature likes un-anchored barrier islands to be movable: the oceanward sides of them erode away while the landward sides silt up and eventually merge with the mainland. Wave action then causes the barrier to re-form on the ocean side, and the cycle begins anew.

The problem, of course, is that houses are a lot less mobile than sand, and so the tourism and real estate powers-that-be engage in a constant and ultimately losing battle with the laws of physics.  But until that final capitulation occurs, it’s a great place to vacation, and my family and I have done so regularly. The tradition is to rent one of the gigantic multi-bedroom beach houses and to overeat for a week. Such houses are lined up along the beach, patiently generating tourist revenue and awaiting their destruction.

OBX 2018 Canon-044-Edit

This year was no exception, the new twist being that I now had a drone to fly. So here’s our house from the air (it’s the one in the foreground), followed by two panoramic views of the beach itself. (The lower one is looking northward at sunset.)

OBX 2018-003

OBX 2018-001

OBX sunset drone

That pier on the left side of the middle photo has a name of some historical significance. Here’s a ground-based shot that gives it away:

OBX 2018 Canon-037 In case you’re not viewing this on a big screen, it says “Kitty Hawk Pier”. Here’s a drone’s-eye view of it.

OBX 2018-002

This is the area where the Wright brothers inaugurated the air travel age in 1903, and do not imagine for one moment that the local tourism gurus let you forget it. The actual event took place a mile or two from this pier, in Kill Devil Hills, and there is of course a memorial there. There is also the actual course of the flight marked out, and you can easily walk its length in about 30 seconds as it is only 120′ (36m) long. (For comparison, the wingspan of a 747 is about 60% longer than that.) The flight took 12 seconds, and their luggage showed up three days later.

Another historical name that pops up frequently in the area is Virginia Dare. Roads, restaurants, you name it, she’s everywhere. Which is somewhat remarkable, because her sole claim to fame is being born here, the first child born to English settlers in the New World. That was in August 1587. Three months later her grandfather sailed back to England on a supply run, and when he returned Virginia, her parents, and the entire colony had disappeared altogether, thereby creating one of the enduring mysteries of American history. Ms. Dare — or at least her name — has had quite a good run of it since then, however, as everything from a soft drink to an icon of women’s suffrage, which is not a bad legacy considering that absolutely nothing else is known about her.

I’ll end this note with a non-drone picture, taken at night underneath the pier. I post it here entirely because (a) I like how the shot came out (it’s a 3-second time exposure) and (b) it’s my blog, dammit.

OBX 2018 Canon-024

Our next travel adventure will be in less than 4 weeks, to Iceland, Paris, and Prague. Watch this space!

Categories: US Mainland | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

Time Warp in the Desert

Palm Springs, California was one of the many places that boomed in the decade or so immediately following World War II. Unlike the nascent suburbs on the East Coast — say, the proliferation of Levittowns in the Northeast — Palm Springs’ economic growth was fueled in part by its proximity to booming southern California, as the desert resort became the postwar playground of Hollywood. The little desert town nestled against the San Jacinto mountains became the go-to place for luminaries of the silver screen to cavort, gossip, and pretend to be heterosexual.

Hand in hand with that ambiance, Palm Springs became the epicenter of a style of architecture and design that later became known as Mid-Century Modernism. The late 1940’s through early 1960’s was the era of right-angled walls and acres of glass, i.e. houses that looked like this…

PS art house

… of sweeping incredibly uncomfortable furniture that looked like this…lounge_chairs_2and primary-colored clothing and cats-eye glasses, i.e. people who looked like this:

MSDPARE EC029

Palm Springs has embraced this part of its history — and this aesthetic — with a glee bordering on mania. This is not unusual for cities, of course: you can’t swing a cat in my birth town of Philadelphia without hitting something named after Benjamin Franklin. And our current home of Annapolis was the nation’s capital for about 45 minutes in 1784 and has been making bank on it ever since. As it happens, with populations of 45,000, Annapolis and Palm Springs are about the same size. But Annapolis does not have 150 abandoned personal bomb shelters in peoples’ back yards, remnants of the duck-and-cover era of the Cold War. Nor does Annapolis have large numbers of — or possibly any — Mid-Century Modernism-style houses. And Annapolis most certainly does not have an annual “Modernism With a Twist” design and performance festival, which we attended last night with our hosts Steve and Thumper. More on that in a moment.

Steve and Thumper are our “Exotic Travel Friends”, with whom we have now traveled to various places in Africa three times. Steve is tall and lanky, a highly creative engineer with a penchant for tech toys and an outre sense of humor that closely matches my own. Thumper is spiky-haired, mordantly impish, and — when passing judgment on just about anything — has only two settings: “This is the worst thing in the world and it makes me want to vomit,” or “This is the best thing in the world and how can anyone not love it?” Since she will be reading these words I will find out tomorrow morning which side of the coin comes up, and whether or not we have to leave prematurely. Anyway, here they are in poses from earlier today that give you an idea of what you’re dealing with.

As you can see, in photos Thumper likes the enigmatic look, though in actual day to day life she is about as subtle as a lightning strike, and equally energetic. And if you ever meet her and ask her about her Disney-esque nickname, take my word and do not believe her story about having been a pole dancer in Laramie, Wyoming.

Anyway, Steve and Thumper are very delightful friends and generous hosts whom we have been visiting in their absolutely gorgeous home. Here’s a pan shot of their atrium-like living room, complete with a looping hi-def video of jellyfish swimming in a  7 1/2-foot long (2.3m) virtual aquarium underneath the painting on the right.

Pal Springs house 2

Steve and Thumper enjoy but are not consumed by the pervasive Mid-Century Modernism design gestalt that permeates the town. And in truth, it is not ubiquitous: the streets are wide and the buildings low and adobe-colored, so on average the sense is more Modern Desert than 1950’s Surreal. And nobody has to pretend to be heterosexual anymore: Thumper informs me that the entire city council is LBGT. They are no doubt advancing their nefarious communist homosexual agenda, which as nearly as we can tell involves clean streets and a thriving downtown area.

But back to the “Modernism with a Twist” festival. This is a week-long multimedia grab bag of home design displays — want a $100 birdhouse that copies a Frank Lloyd Wright house? — art exhibits, and performances. We attended one of the latter, a presentation of five fifteen-minute lecture/slideshow/standup comedy routines, all of them entertaining and insightful and often informative. One was a riotous first-person account of (and by) a tube-dress, cats-eye-glasses-wearing fictional 1950’s housewife who finds fulfillment in her harvest-gold-colored appliances. One was a history of those 150 bomb shelters I mentioned above. One was a very “meta” discussion or confession of one woman’s obsession with Mid-Century Modernist memorabilia. And so on. It was a hoot, though I am not yet ready to comb my hair into a ducktail, partly because I do not have enough hair to do so.Ducktail-Hairstyle-hairstyle-latest-lMfI

Today we made an expedition to the Salton Sea, about 50 miles to the southeast of here. That was quite the experience in itself, which I’ll save for my next post in a few days.

Categories: US Mainland | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

“Da Drone, Boss, Da Drone!”

We arrived on the Big Island yesterday afternoon, about 30 hours ago as I type this, and though we are still coping with East Coast-to-Hawaii jet lag — I woke up at 4 AM today — we have nonetheless settled right in to our tropical home away from home. And it feels like that, too, i.e., the home part: this place is real easy to get used to, doubly so since this is our third winter here. Our goal has now become convincing all of our family and friends to move here so we can stay for good.

We have spent the day variously basking on the lanai (known as a patio just about anywhere else) and running various errands, the latter mostly in the form of grocery shopping or buying items that we forgot to bring. Those missing items included hats (I would not recognize Alice without her floppy garden hat) and the wall charger for my camera batteries.

But I did manage to execute a couple of short drone flights so that I can give you a bit of a feel for the environs.  I am still very much learning the fine points of getting good photo and video results from the thing — you know, niceties like steering and camera settings — but nonetheless here is today’s result:

You will notice the ubiquity of lava rock, e.g., the rather uninviting jagged ebon expanse adjacent to the swimming pool at about the one-minute mark in the video. That’s what the whole complex would look like were it not for the intervention of developers. In fact, in significant measure that’s what this whole side of the island would look like.

You’ll note similarly that the shoreline — about 250 meters from our house as the drone flies — is quite rough-looking. It’s that lava again, pretty much up and down the coast. But there are a number of nice beaches, mostly of the black sand variety where the lava has eroded. There’s quite an attractive one just another couple of hundred meters up the coast, just beyond where the video ends. (I started getting some radio interference and so brought the drone home earlier than planned rather than risk losing control.) You can also see that the water is quite clear, with coral reefs visible in the shallows. The snorkeling around here is superb.

About 45 minutes up the coast from here is an enormous, picturesque, and very popular white sand beach called Hapuna. I confess to being puzzled by its geology. Black sand I get; it’s just broken down lava. But where did the white sand come from? Some research is required, but not tonight.

My drone expedition was cut short when the property manager — a cheerful mustachioed man — tootled over in a small vehicle and rather apologetically asked me to knock it off. It’s not forbidden to fly drones in the complex, he allowed, but a couple of the residents were freaking out so would I please stop? So I did. I had in fact canvassed a couple of the neighbors in advance to make sure they were OK with it (they were) but I obviously couldn’t poll everyone and apparently missed the paranoid ones. Jeez, you’d think that they had all received some kind of false alarm on their cell phones about incoming missiles…..

 

Categories: Hawaii | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

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