Ibiza's Silent Sentinels: The Pirate Towers and a History of Invasion

Ibiza, the jewel of the Mediterranean, evokes images of sun-drenched beaches and vibrant nightlife. But beneath the modern allure lies a rich and turbulent past, etched into the very landscape itself. Long before the era of dance clubs and celebrity DJs, Ibiza's strategic location made it a coveted prize, a crossroads for trade and, unfortunately, a target for invaders and pirates.

The island's position, nestled between Europe and Africa, meant it was a natural stopping point for seafaring travellers. This, however, came at a cost. The fertile soils, abundant salt reserves (a highly prized commodity), and the island's harvests attracted the attention of those seeking to plunder. The dispersed population, spread across the island, made it difficult to defend, leaving them vulnerable to raids. Many captured islanders were tragically sold into slavery, a dark chapter in Ibiza's history.

In response to this constant threat, the Ibizan people began to develop a system of coastal lookouts. From high vantage points, they could monitor the horizon for approaching ships, offering a vital early warning. Over time, these simple lookouts evolved into the formidable pirate towers, or "torres de defensa," that still dot the island's coastline today.

The 16th century marked a turning point, with the construction of fortified towers around the main population centers: Ibiza Town, San Antonio, and Santa Eulalia. By the 18th century, approximately 15 of these towers stood guard, including the iconic tower at Portinatx. These structures were more than just watchtowers; they were fortified shelters, stocked with muskets, shot, gunpowder, and small cannons.

Their design reflected the constant threat of attack. The entrances were typically situated about 10 feet above ground level, accessible only by rope ladders, which could be quickly retracted in times of danger. This high access point also allowed defenders to pour boiling water or oil onto attackers attempting to scale the walls, a brutal but effective deterrent. Some towers boasted walls up to 10 feet thick, making them incredibly resilient. Remarkably, no tower was ever successfully captured in a direct assault.

Communication was crucial. During the day, smoke signals relayed warnings across the island, while at night, fires served the same purpose. These signals allowed the islanders to mobilize their defenses and prepare for incoming threats.

While many of these towers have undergone restoration, they are largely closed to the public, with access limited to the exterior areas. This measure was taken to protect the historical structures from vandalism, a sad reality that has plagued many of these sites. Furthermore, the towers have unfortunately become associated with sombre tales of ritual suicides, adding to the reasons for restricted access.

The photographs accompanying this blog post, taken in July 2014 with a Polaroid is2132 bridge camera, capture the silent majesty of these historical sentinels. They stand as a testament to the resilience and resourcefulness of the Ibizan people, a reminder of a time when the island's beauty was shadowed by the constant threat of invasion.

These towers, now silent guardians of the coastline, offer a glimpse into Ibiza's complex and often overlooked past. They stand as a poignant reminder that the island's story is far richer and more nuanced than the modern image of a party paradise. They are a tangible link to a time when survival depended on vigilance and fortitude, a time when the islanders stood together against the tides of history.

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 All the pictures remain the copyright of Colin Green.

St. Nicholas Church, Cumberworth and its Enduring Legacy

Nestled amidst the tranquil landscape of Cumberworth, West Yorkshire, stands St. Nicholas Church, a testament to faith, resilience, and the passage of time. This unassuming Anglican church, part of the Diocese of Leeds, holds within its walls and grounds a rich tapestry of history, spanning nearly eight centuries.

What we see today is the third iteration of St. Nicholas, a structure born from the Victorian era's architectural fervour. But beneath its relatively recent facade, whispers of earlier incarnations resonate. Records suggest that the first church, a humble edifice, was erected around 1255, a time when medieval England was still finding its footing. Imagine the echoes of ancient prayers and the flickering candlelight illuminating the stone walls, a stark contrast to the modern world we inhabit.

The passage of time, however, demanded change. By the 17th century, the original church had succumbed to the ravages of time and was replaced by a second structure. Though details of this intermediate church are scarce, its existence bridges the gap between the medieval and Victorian eras.

In the 1870s, the current St. Nicholas Church rose from the foundations of its predecessor, a reflection of the architectural styles prevalent during that period. However, a crucial element of the previous church was preserved: its bell tower. This weathered sentinel, a silent witness to centuries of change, connects the present church to its historical roots.

Within this venerable tower reside three bells, their voices ringing out across the Cumberworth landscape. These are not the original bells, however. During the 1960s, a necessary restoration project saw the original bells melted down and recast, preserving their resonant tones for future generations. Each toll is a link to the past, a reminder of the countless services, celebrations, and solemn moments that have echoed through the valley.

Beyond the church's walls, the churchyard holds another fascinating piece of history: a set of remarkably well-preserved Grade II listed stocks. These wooden restraints, once used to publicly punish minor offenders, offer a tangible connection to a bygone era of local justice. Imagine the villagers gathered, witnessing the public humiliation, a stark reminder of the social norms and punishments of the past. The stocks, now silent and still, serve as a poignant reminder of the community's evolution.

St. Nicholas Church, Cumberworth, is more than just a place of worship; it's a living museum, a repository of local history. From its medieval origins to its Victorian reconstruction, and the enduring presence of its ancient bell tower and stocks, the church stands as a testament to the enduring spirit of the community. It's a place where the echoes of centuries past mingle with the present, inviting visitors to reflect on the passage of time and the enduring power of faith. Every stone, every bell toll, every weathered piece of wood tells a story, a story that continues to unfold in the heart of Cumberworth.

The pictures below were taken on the 21st May 2016 with a Nikon d3300 SLR camera, clicking any of the images below should open a link in another window to my Colin Green Photography store on Zazzle.

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Willow Hall Dam: A Hidden Gem in the Calder Valley

Nestled amidst the rolling hills of Sowerby Bridge, West Yorkshire, lies Willow Hall Dam, a tranquil haven for anglers and nature enthusiasts alike. While its modest size might suggest a simple fishing spot, Willow Hall Dam holds a rich history and a surprising diversity of aquatic life, making it a truly captivating destination.

Operated by the Bradford No. 1 Angling Association, Willow Hall Dam offers a peaceful escape for those seeking a day of fishing. A small fee is required, granting you access to a well-stocked lake teeming with a variety of species. Imagine casting your line and patiently waiting for a bite, knowing that roach, perch, ide, bream, chub, and the ever-elusive pike lurk beneath the surface. But perhaps the most intriguing residents are the two catfish, confirmed by the Fish Around website, adding an unexpected twist to the lake's ecosystem. With approximately 18 pegs available, the dam ensures a comfortable and uncrowded fishing experience.

What many may not realize is that Willow Hall Dam is actually comprised of two distinct bodies of water. The upper lake, often overlooked, serves a crucial role as a barrier, intercepting the feeder streams that cascade down from the surrounding hills. This upper lake, hidden from the main fishing activity, acts as a natural filter and reservoir, contributing to the health of the lower, more popular lake. The lower lake, the primary focus for anglers, offers a picturesque setting for a day of relaxation and sport.

Surrounding the lakes is a lush woodland, a haven for local wildlife. The tranquil atmosphere is punctuated by the sounds of birdsong and the rustling of leaves, creating a truly immersive natural experience. The dam's idyllic setting provides a welcome respite from the hustle and bustle of daily life.

The history of Willow Hall Dam is inextricably linked to the now-vanished Willow Hall Mills complex. Only the dam remains, a silent testament to the area's industrial past. The mill, once a thriving hub of activity, has been replaced by the modern housing estate of Bentley Mount. Notably, Willow Hall Mills holds a place in history as the first mill in Britain to be illuminated by gas lighting, a pioneering achievement that highlights the site's significance.

The accompanying images, captured on a crisp December 26th, 2013, using a humble Samsung Galaxy Tablet, offer a glimpse into the dam's tranquil beauty. While the technology may have been simple, the images convey the serene atmosphere and the natural charm of the location. These photographs can also be found on Clickasnap, allowing you to visually explore the dam's allure.

Willow Hall Dam is more than just a fishing lake; it's a slice of history, a natural sanctuary, and a testament to the enduring beauty of the Calder Valley. Whether you're an avid angler, a nature lover, or simply seeking a peaceful retreat, Willow Hall Dam offers a unique and rewarding experience. Its hidden depths, both literal and historical, continue to captivate and inspire. Clicking any of the images below should open a link in another window to my Colin Green Photography store on Zazzle.

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Whispers of Winged Giants: Croydon Airport's Echo in an Industrial Landscape

Croydon Airport, a name that once resonated with the glamour and pioneering spirit of aviation's golden age, now lies nestled within the hum of a bustling industrial estate in South London. To the casual observer, the sprawling warehouses and delivery trucks might seem worlds away from the sleek biplanes and record-breaking flights that once graced this very ground. But beneath the surface, the echoes of a bygone era linger, a testament to the airport's pivotal role in shaping London's aviation history.

In the roaring twenties and thirties, Croydon was more than just an airport; it was the gateway to the world. Known as "London Airport," it was the epicentre of British aviation, a hub of innovation and adventure. Imagine the scene: pioneering pilots, like Amy Johnson and Alan Cobham, taking off on daring long-distance flights, the roar of their engines mingling with the excited chatter of passengers embarking on their first aerial journeys. This was the era of leather flying helmets, open cockpits, and a sense of boundless possibility.

Croydon's significance extended beyond mere passenger travel. It was a crucial link in the Empire's communication network, facilitating mail delivery and connecting far-flung corners of the globe. The airport's control tower, a beacon of technological advancement, oversaw the intricate ballet of arrivals and departures, guiding pilots through the often-treacherous skies.

However, the very success of Croydon's operations ultimately contributed to its demise. As London's suburbs expanded, encroaching upon the airport's boundaries, the limitations of its size became increasingly apparent. The need for longer runways and greater capacity became critical, and Croydon, hemmed in by urban development, could not meet the growing demands of modern aviation. Consequently, the torch was passed to Heathrow and Gatwick, and Croydon's role as London's primary airport gradually faded.

Today, the site has transformed into a bustling industrial estate, a stark contrast to its former glory. Yet, remnants of its aviation past remain, whispering tales of a time when the sky was the limit. The most striking of these remnants is the former terminal building, now known as Airport House. This elegant structure, a testament to the Art Deco architectural style of the era, stands as a silent guardian of Croydon's aviation heritage.

Perhaps the most captivating feature of Airport House is the de Havilland Heron, suspended on struts at the entrance. This iconic aircraft, a symbol of post-war British aviation, serves as a poignant reminder of the airport's legacy. It's a tangible link to the days when Croydon was a hive of activity, a place where dreams took flight.

Walking through the industrial estate, one can almost hear the ghostly hum of radial engines and the excited announcements echoing across the tarmac. The control tower, though no longer guiding aircraft, still stands tall, a silent sentinel watching over the comings and goings of a different kind. The spirit of Croydon Airport, though transformed, persists, woven into the fabric of the landscape.

Croydon Airport's story is a reminder of the ephemeral nature of progress and the enduring power of history. It's a tale of ambition, innovation, and the inevitable march of time. As the industrial estate hums with activity, the echoes of winged giants continue to resonate, a testament to the airport's indelible mark on London's aviation legacy. It invites us to pause, to look beyond the present, and to remember the days when Croydon was the gateway to the world, a place where the dreams of flight took shape and soared

These pictures were taken on the 26th June 2015 with a Polaroid is2132 bridge camera. Clicking any of the images should open a link in another window to my Colin Green Photography store on Zazzle.

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Littleborough Station: Gateway to the Pennines and a Slice of Railway History

Nestled on the western fringe of the Pennine hills, Littleborough Railway Station stands as a vital, yet unassuming, gateway. This two-platform halt, serving the charming town of Littleborough in Greater Manchester, resonates with the echoes of a rich railway heritage. Imagine the scene: the rhythmic clatter of train wheels approaching, the crisp Pennine air carrying the faint scent of coal and damp stone, a testament to the station's long service.

Before us lies the Summit Tunnel, a feat of Victorian engineering, plunging deep beneath the rolling hills, connecting Lancashire with Yorkshire. Littleborough, in its role as the last stop before this subterranean passage, holds a unique position in the region's transport network.

The station itself, while modest, caters to the modern traveller. Two staggered platforms, designed with accessibility in mind, offer basic shelters against the unpredictable northern weather. The hum of ticket machines, a constant companion when the station's manned ticket office is closed, fills the brief silences between train arrivals. To the east, the line stretches towards Walsden, while westward, it leads to Smithy Bridge, each stop a chapter in the railway's ongoing story.

Tracing its roots back to July 1839, Littleborough Railway Station was initially the western terminus. Picture the bustling scene of 19th-century passengers, their luggage piled high, embarking and disembarking, the station a hive of activity. For two years, it served as the frontier, until the monumental Summit Tunnel, a testament to Victorian ambition, was finally completed in 1841, forging a continuous rail link across the Pennines.

The station's history is not without its dramatic interludes. In December 1984, a devastating fire engulfed the Summit Tunnel, bringing rail traffic to a standstill. Littleborough once again found itself a terminus, a temporary dead-end, until the tunnel's triumphant reopening in August 1985. The resilience of the railway, and the community it serves, is palpable.

These moments, captured on the 26th of May 2015 with a Polaroid is2132 bridge camera, offer a snapshot of a station that has witnessed the ebb and flow of time. The images, below invite you to visualise the station's quiet strength, its enduring presence in the heart of Littleborough. Each platform, each shelter, each ticket machine tells a story, a story of connection, of history, and of the enduring spirit of rail travel in the Pennines.

Clicking any of the images should open a link in another window to my Colin Green Photography store on Zazzle.

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Crossing the Thames, The Woolwich Ferry and Dartford Tunnel.

This collection comprises short video segments, captured during vehicular transits, with the initial recording documenting a crossing on the Woolwich Ferry in November 2013. The video, originally recorded with a Samsung Galaxy Tablet, provides a first-person perspective of the journey from the southern pier at Woolwich to the northern pier at North Woolwich, under an overcast and rainy November sky. This raw footage, available both here and on YouTube, serves as a snapshot of a routine, yet historically significant, urban transport operation.

The Woolwich Ferry, a vital artery in East London's infrastructure, facilitates the movement of vehicles and pedestrians across the River Thames, effectively bridging the north and south circular inner relief roads. This free-of-charge service, a rarity in modern urban transport, underscores its role as a public utility rather than a commercial venture. While primarily catering to vehicles, it also accommodates foot passengers, albeit with a requirement to disembark at each terminal. This operational detail highlights the ferry's function as a continuous shuttle, rather than a long-distance passenger service.

The ferry's historical roots trace back to the 14th century, but its formalized service at the current location commenced on March 23, 1889. This transition marked a significant development in local transportation, reflecting the industrial and population growth of the area during the late Victorian era. The present fleet comprises three vessels, each named after prominent political figures: John Burns, Ernest Bevin, and James Newman.

• John Burns: A pivotal figure in the late 19th and early 20th century British political landscape, Burns served as a Liberal MP from 1892 to 1918. His involvement in social reform and labor movements underscores the ferry's connection to the era's progressive ideals.
• Ernest Bevin: A prominent Labour Minister, Bevin's tenure spanned from 1940 to 1951, a period marked by wartime mobilization and post-war reconstruction. His role in shaping the welfare state highlights the ferry's association with a period of significant social change.
• James Newman: Serving as the Mayor of Woolwich from 1923 to 1925, Newman's local political leadership reflects the ferry's integration into the community's fabric.

The overcast and rainy conditions captured in the video offer a glimpse into the everyday realities of operating and utilizing the ferry. The use of a Samsung Galaxy Tablet for recording, while commonplace in contemporary documentation, provides a relatable, unedited perspective. This raw footage, with its inherent imperfections, offers an authentic portrayal of the ferry's operation, contrasting with polished, professionally produced content.

The Woolwich Ferry, therefore, transcends its function as a mere transport link. It embodies a confluence of historical, political, and social narratives, reflecting the evolution of East London and its inhabitants. The video, though brief, serves as a valuable document of this dynamic intersection

This footage, captured in October 2013, offers a glimpse into a bygone era of the Dartford Crossing, a critical artery connecting Kent and Essex beneath the River Thames. The video documents a journey through the eastern tunnel, a structure inaugurated in 1980, which doubled the crossing's capacity and alleviated the notorious bottlenecks that plagued its predecessor, the western tunnel.

The western bore, originally opened in November 1963 as a single-lane conduit, struggled to cope with the burgeoning traffic demands of the region. The completion of the eastern tunnel marked a significant engineering achievement, transforming the crossing into a dual-tunnel system. Northbound traffic was diverted to the western tunnel, while southbound flows utilized the newly constructed eastern passage.

By this time, the crossing was already a vital component of the UK's road network, handling an astonishing 65,000 vehicles daily. The 1986 integration with the newly completed M25 motorway further amplified its importance, pushing daily traffic volumes to an estimated 80,000 vehicles.

The subsequent construction of the Queen Elizabeth II Bridge in 1991 introduced a pivotal shift in traffic management. The eastern tunnel was repurposed to accommodate northbound traffic alongside the western tunnel, with the bridge exclusively handling southbound flows. However, the eastern tunnel retains its crucial role as a contingency route for southbound vehicles during high winds or incidents that necessitate bridge closures.

Notably, this video predates the late 2014/early 2015 removal of the toll booths, a change implemented in the hope of streamlining traffic flow and reducing congestion. The transition to a remote charging system was anticipated to usher in a new era of efficiency. However, as a professional truck driver who traverses this crossing regularly, I can attest that the promised reduction in congestion remains largely elusive, a testament to the persistent challenges of managing such a critical infrastructure node.

The engineering of these tunnels themselves is a marvel, each bore a testament to the challenges of subaqueous construction. The eastern tunnel, in particular, showcases the advancements made in tunnel boring technology between its construction and that of its predecessor. The sheer volume of concrete and steel involved in its creation is staggering, a silent, yet imposing, monument to human ingenuity.

The video, therefore, serves not only as a record of a journey but also as a historical snapshot, capturing a moment before a significant infrastructural change. It invites reflection on the ongoing evolution of our transport systems and the perpetual struggle to balance progress with the ever-increasing demands of modern travel

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The videos remain the copyright of Colin Green.

Timanfaya Water Geyser.

In July 2013, I had the extraordinary opportunity to explore the otherworldly landscape of Timanfaya National Park on Lanzarote. This park, a testament to the raw power of volcanic forces, is a place where the earth itself seems to breathe. During my tour, I captured numerous photographs, previously shared, that attempt to convey the stark beauty of this volcanic terrain. However, it was the geyser demonstration near the restaurant area that truly brought the park's geothermal activity to life.

Witnessing this demonstration was a visceral experience. Park staff poured water into a seemingly innocuous hole in the earth, a conduit leading approximately 13 meters down into the island's fiery depths. Seconds later, the water returned with explosive force, erupting as a powerful geyser of steam and superheated water. This display, while seemingly simple, is a potent reminder of the volcanic heat that simmers just beneath the surface of Lanzarote. It's a direct connection to the volcanic eruptions that dramatically reshaped the island in the 18th century.

The demonstration highlights the residual heat from those historic eruptions, a heat that continues to manifest in remarkable ways. The Islote de Hilario, where this demonstration takes place, is a key location within the park, providing visitors with a safe way to witness these geothermal phenomena. The fact that the restaurant there uses this geothermal heat to cook food adds another layer of intrigue, showing how the islanders have learned to live with, and even utilize, this powerful natural force. I preserved this moment by capturing a video, which I've shared on my YouTube channel, allowing others to experience the dramatic geyser eruption first hand

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The video remains the copyright of Colin Green.

The Pickle Bridge Line, West Yorkshire.

The Pickle Bridge Railway, a short-lived line connecting Bradford and Huddersfield via the outskirts of Brighouse, operated from 1881 to 1952. Its closure was attributed to significant subsidence. While two stations along the route, Bailiff Bridge and Clifton Road, ceased operation well before the line's final closure, remnants of the railway are still visible between Clifton Road and Pickle Bridge, Wyke. Unfortunately, little trace remains between Clifton Road and Anchor Pit.

The line diverged from the Calder Valley Line at Pickle Bridge Junction, situated between Norwood Green (closed 1953) and Lightcliffe (closed 1965) stations. It then traversed the impressive Wyke (Red Lion) viaduct, originally boasting 22 arches, but now reduced to 8 after the northern 14 were demolished in 1987 due to ongoing subsidence. Bailiff Bridge station (1881-1917) served this section. Continuing southward, the line crossed the still-standing 5-arch Thornhills Viaduct, followed by a now-demolished viaduct at Clifton. The 3-arch Clifton viaduct led directly into Clifton Road station (1881-1931). Beyond Clifton Road, the line bridged the A644 Wakefield Road and the River Calder before reconnecting with the Calder Valley Line at Anchor Pit Junction, between Brighouse (1840-1970, reopened 2000) and Cooper Bridge (1840-1950) stations.

Photographs documenting the line's former route, captured in 2014 between Clifton Road Station and the main line at Wyke using a Polaroid iS2132 bridge camera, have been compiled into a YouTube slideshow. The slideshow is accompanied by William Rosati's musical piece, "Reception".

Just press play, the slideshow is 3 minutes 18 seconds long. And runs in an order of walking the track bed from Clifton Road to Wyke.

The video remains the copyright of Colin Green.

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Copley's Canal Side Arches: From Coal Delivery to Tranquil Seating

Nestled alongside the tranquil waters of the Calder & Hebble Navigation canal in Copley, West Yorkshire, lies a fascinating piece of local history: the Copley Canal side Arches. What was once a bustling delivery point for coal (or possibly grain) has now been transformed into a peaceful seating area, offering a unique glimpse into the area's industrial past.

As a child, I vaguely recall these arches as a mysterious, walled-off area with a peculiar funnel structure. Looking back, it's clear that these funnels played a vital role in the canal's commercial activity. Barges would transport coal along the canal, and the funnels would efficiently direct the coal into waiting carts below, sheltered within the arched recesses. This clever system allowed for streamlined delivery, a testament to the ingenuity of canal-side operations.

The original setup consisted of a walled-off area above the arches, containing the funnels, with the arched space below serving as a sheltered loading zone. Over time, however, the need for this delivery system diminished. A few years ago, the site underwent a significant transformation. The walls above were partially removed, and the area was paved to create a pleasant seating space, perfectly positioned to enjoy the serene canal views. The arched area directly adjacent to Copley Lane was also walled up, creating a separate, lower-level seating area, offering a more secluded spot to relax.

These changes have breathed new life into the arches, turning a functional industrial site into a charming public space. The juxtaposition of the historic arches and the modern seating creates a unique atmosphere, blending the past with the present.

I captured these images on November 13th, 2013, using my Samsung Galaxy Tablet. They offer a snapshot of the arches as they were during this transitional phase, revealing the remnants of their industrial heritage. Clicking any image below should open a link in another window to my Colin Green Photography store on Zazzle.

The Copley Canal side Arches serve as a reminder of the vital role canals played in the region's industrial development. Today, they offer a peaceful retreat, inviting locals and visitors alike to reflect on the area's rich history while enjoying the beauty of the Calder & Hebble Navigation.

Whether you're a history enthusiast or simply looking for a quiet spot to unwind, the Copley Canal side Arches provide a unique and captivating experience.

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All the pictures remain the copyright of Colin Green.

Lanzarote's Spark: Where a Tablet and a View Ignited a Passion

In the summer of 2013, I found myself on the volcanic shores of Lanzarote, a place that, at the time, held little more than the promise of a sunny getaway. Little did I know, this island, sculpted by fire and time, would ignite a passion within me that I never knew existed: photography.

With a few days to spare and a desire to explore beyond the resort, I embarked on a comprehensive island tour. It was a decision that would forever alter my perspective. From the surreal, Martian landscapes of Timanfaya National Park, where the earth still breathes with volcanic heat, to the mesmerizing emerald hues of the Green Lagoon, each stop was a revelation. Jameos del Agua, a subterranean wonderland crafted by César Manrique, offered a glimpse into the harmonious blend of nature and art.

But it was El Mirador de Guinate, perched on the northernmost tip of the island, that truly captivated me. Standing there, overlooking the narrow strait of El Rio, with the serene island of La Graciosa floating in the distance, I felt a profound sense of awe. The landscape was a symphony of blues and browns, a panorama that stretched beyond the horizon.

Nestled within the municipality of Haria, El Mirador de Guinate is more than just a viewpoint. It’s an experience. The surrounding tropical park, a lush oasis against the stark volcanic backdrop, teems with diverse flora and fauna. As I wandered through its winding paths, I encountered vibrant birds, exotic plants, and the tranquil atmosphere that permeated the entire area.

Armed with nothing more than my trusty Samsung Galaxy Tablet, I began to capture these moments. It wasn’t a deliberate act of artistic expression at first; it was simply an attempt to hold onto the beauty I was witnessing. Yet, as I reviewed the images on the tablet’s screen, something shifted within me. I saw the world in a new light, framed and composed, captured in time.

The date was July 30th, 2013. A seemingly ordinary day, but one that marked the beginning of my photographic journey. The simplicity of my tablet, a tool I had previously used for casual browsing and entertainment, became the catalyst for a newfound passion. It was a reminder that inspiration can strike in the most unexpected places and with the most unassuming tools.

Looking back, those images, are more than just snapshots. They are a testament to the transformative power of travel, the unexpected beauty of Lanzarote, and the serendipitous discovery of a creative outlet. They are a reminder that sometimes, all it takes is a stunning view and a simple device to ignite a spark within.

Lanzarote, with its unique landscapes and captivating vistas, offered me more than just a holiday. It offered me a new way of seeing the world, a perspective that continues to shape my creative endeavours to this day. It was a lesson in appreciating the beauty that surrounds us and the potential that lies within the most unexpected moments. And it all started with a tablet and a view from El Mirador de Guinate.

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Caleta del Sebo, the largest settlement on La Graciosa with a population
of over 730. The islands only ferry service runs from here connecting
with Orzola, Lanzarote.

The looking down towards the waters edge is approx 500 feet
from where the picture was taken. 

The western tip of La Graciosa.

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All the pictures remain the copyright of Colin Green.