Today being a middlingly decent day, I figured I’d go for a trek through the Battery and up and over Signal Hill. Such adventures also make for satisfactory photo opportunities so I geared up and headed out. (click to enlarge photos)
The colours of this house snagged my eye as I passed, as did the Tolkien-evoking mark on the door, as if it was a dwarven portal.
Few boats on the go.
Satan’s buttcrack. It was dark, dangerous, and it smelled. For a second I thought I could hear two people having an evil, conspiratorial conversation in some previously unuttered language down there, but it was just couple pigeons, having an echoey coo and chirp.
Fort Amherst with an iceberg tourboat passing a-by.
Lookin’ back into Sin Jawns.
Seagull party. Bitta guano.
Looking down at the Fort.
Ended up in a second crevice. It framed perfectly, like a little faerie road to a fabled castle. It was here we realized that our cells were without service. That’s right, no service on Signal Hill. “False advertising,” my buddy John observed. Marconi had service here in 1901, but 114 years later we still don’t have it figured.
Ladies and gentleman, Johnathan White.
A piece of yesterday.
Note the cat in the bottom-leftish, out for a hike. Also note the orange and white fur, if you can make it out.
Out for quite a hike is kitty.
There is the intrepid traveler.
View back over the city. That graffitied face you see on the wall on the right is a pretty ubiquitous tag, it’s also on the Northeast side of Quidi Vidi Gut.
Seagull having a gawk at the Observation Tower.
Another orange and white kitty. After this one, we encountered at least four more with the same markings; must be quite a prolific male or receptive female around these parts.
Little nuzzle for Johnny.