In Skagway Alaska, we caught a sightseeing train from the sea up into White Pass. I took this just after we reversed directions to head back down.
The whole trip I hung out between the cars where I could get pictures of the landscape. On the way up we were in the first car behind the engine. Then the train pulled into a siding and the locomotive connected to the other end and, as you can see, we were at the back.
It was pretty high up, and the weather dropped about forty-degrees. Skagway used to be a mining town, and in the Klondike days before the train, miners would traverse the pass on foot or mule. That would be a hard slog indeed, so I was glad to be on a train with its trusty breaks all the way back down.
I take a lot of photos of this bridge; I should open a gallery and call it the Manatee Bridge gallery. With these types of scenes can you blame me?
What makes this so mesmerizing is the calm water of the intercoastal. When it's like glass, it reflects everything and creates a dreamscape-like effect. That's what I strive for but rarely achieve.
Anyway, if you go to my gallery and enter the keyword "ManateeAvenueBridge" in the search, you'll get all the versions of this bridge I've taken over the years. In another five or ten years I'll probably have quite the collection. Then they can rename the bridge after me. It will be called the Rick Bridge, or not.
This picture of Manarola is one I took from a boat ride along the Cinque Terre coast. It makes me want to pack my bags and go back now.
The villages lie one after the other along a rugged coast, all connected by train. So while they are somewhat remote, they're easy to get to. They also have a trail that runs the length of the coast so you can backpack as well.
When you look closely at the construction on top of the rocks, the difficulty involved boggles the mind. Also, the terraced hillsides have been carved out of the most inhospitable soil for crops, yet they are fertile and well tended. If you let your mind wander, you'll go back the many hundreds of years to see the first inhabitants removing one rock at a time. And that is why I'd rather be a tourist in this century.