Category: Landscape

Austrian Alps: Innsbruck by sleeper train

Daniel Greenwood4 Comments

Innsbruck, Tyrol, Austria, June 2025

This is a longer post of the images I captured during a recent visit to Innsbruck in the Austrian Alps. We travelled to Innsbruck on a sleeper train from Amsterdam. It’s such a great experience and is significantly lower in carbon emissions compared with flying. If you consider the fact it’s travel and accommodation, as well as the ability to see so much more, it’s a better way to travel. We set off from London on the Friday morning, on an 11am train to Amsterdam, and by 19:00 we were on the sleeper and heading south-east towards Germany.

All that said, we booked a sleeper train from Brussels to Vienna on our honeymoon in 2024 and the train didn’t show up! So travelling by train needs flexibility and patience. I still think it’s worth it, for you as well as the climate.

The photos here are taken with my Olympus EM-1 MIII and TG-6 compact cameras, edited in Lightroom.

In Innsbruck

According to my Lonely Planet guide to Austria, Innsbruck was founded in the 1100s. The name basically means ‘bridge over the River Inn’, which splits the north from the south of the city. It’s an epic river, which was in full flow when we visited, probably bolstered by glacial melt from the surrounding mountains.

The colourful apartment buildings on the north side of the Inn (seen here at the bottom of the frame) are a sight to behold from the banks of the south side. It’s hard to appreciate how difficult it would been to build a bridge over a river of this size and power once upon a time. No wonder that when they did manage it, the whole place was named after it!

Innsbruck is a city of towers and spires. I don’t know how many were destroyed in the Second World War. As in Salzburg, I’m sure many were rebuilt. The tower seen in the last of the images above can be ascended for a small entry fee via a pair of spiral staircases. I have issues with heights, and I found this quite difficult. I was a bit ill at the time so that probably made it worse. The views from the tower are of course worth it if you can cope with the ascent.

These metal workings were prevalent in the Aldstadt. They’re nice to photograph, particularly against cloud where their colours come to life. I don’t know anything about them, but they seem to be an Austrian thing, and date back several hundred years.

The ‘Golden Roof’ (Goldenes Dachl) was the main draw for tourists (I had read about it but wasn’t thinking of it when we found it). It was created in 1500 and was used by Habsburg royalty to purvey the scenes below.

On the 700-year-old Maria Theresa Street (Maria-Theresien-Straße) you can see frescoes depicting Maria, the only female ruler of the Habsburg Empire between 1740-1780. There’s a good summary of the history of this ancient street on the Innsbruck tourism website.

There are lots of interesting frescoes around the Aldstadt (Old Town) in Innsbruck, some originally painted as much as 400 years ago.

The Hofburg or Imperial Palace encloses the Aldstadt. Dating to the 1400s, it is considered one of the three most important Austrian buildings (according to Wikipedia). There were a number of weddings happening when we arrived on the Saturday morning. In the final image of the set here you can see one woman in her wedding dress being escorted somewhere – presumably before the ceremony.

Innsbruck Cathedral (Dom zu St. Jakob) sits close to the Inn. These were taken with my 9mm f1.7 wide angle lens, which is a thing of beauty.

Now it’s time to head into the hills (by cable car)!

Above Innsbruck

You can travel to the ‘Top of Innsbruck‘ via the Nordkette cable car. It’s a good option for high level walking and to get a sense of the grandeur of the Alps around Innsbruck.

The first cable car is the Hungerburgbahn which drops you at Hungerburg – and no, that’s not a marketing ploy for a restaurant. Here you change for a cable car to take you up to Seegrube.

It was mid-June and the views from Seegrube were dimmed by the thick haze that rested across the mountains. I have edited these photos to draw out the shapes and colours of the peaks as best I can without ruining them.

The road winds down to Hungerburg. In the middle-distance the Inn cuts through the city.

This is looking south towards the Italian Alps. Brutal warfare took place here between the Austro-Hungarian/German army, and newly-founded Italian army in the First World War. I didn’t know anything about this element of WWI (known as the White War) until my uncle told me about it. It was only after visiting Innsbruck that I realised the setting for the fighting was not far from here. Over 150,000 soldiers died in those battles, mostly due to disease or the extreme cold.

From Seegrube you can take a final cable car (not absolutely final!) to Hafelekarspitze (2,256m at the point of stepping off the cable car).

There are plenty of paths to take.

Looking back down from the Hafelekarspitze terminus. Unfortunately I wasn’t well enough to crouch down for any macro photos of the alpine plants, but there weren’t actually that many here because of the erosion.

Heading over a mound (sounds like a terrible understatement) you arrive at breathtaking views into the Alps. The sudden rearing up of these vast rocky peaks almost knocked me sideways. The cable car fees are worth it for these views.

Some snow was still lingering among the clefts in the limestone.

I love the streaks in the vegetation where water finds its quickest way down of the tops of the peaks. And then there’s just a random chunk of woodland there like the arm of a velvet green divan.

The reality of the space behind the camera – lots of limestone, hundreds of people, and a lot of erosion (of which I was obviously contributing to!).

Leaving Innsbruck

We left Innsbruck on a train to Salzburg, passing the peaks of the Karwendel Alps which lead eventually to Bavaria in Germany. I love travelling on Austrian trains, especially in the Alps. I don’t read a word of a book because the views are so amazing, and you can order food if you’re in first class, which is so much more affordable than in the UK.

I like to use my compact camera on these journeys and just snap photos randomly at the window without considering framing, or worrying to much about what the frame will capture. In the image above there’s what looks like a haybarn in the Inn valley, where the grass will be grown for either feeding animals or some kind of biomass.

Thanks for reading.

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Late summer timbers at the Weald & Downland Museum

Daniel GreenwoodLeave a comment

In August I made my annual visit to the Weald and Downland Living Museum in the South Downs.

You can see my timber-framed building photo gallery here.

This is the first view you encounter inside the museum grounds after you pay your entry fee. Amazing to think the medieval hall house is from Cray in the London Borough of Bexley. It dates to the 1400s.

The Titchfield Market Hall has recently been restored. It’s looking very good indeed now. These halls were once more common in English market towns, but I can’t say I’ve ever seen one in situ. How times change.

The House from Walderton punctuates a quintessential Weald and Downland Museum scene.

These charming railway cottages are a game of two halves. In one part (here on the right) you can see the internal structure of the building. On the left hand side you can see a furnished representation of the cottage.

Poplar Cottage is one of my favourites. I’ve posted about it before.

Bayleaf‘s grandeur isn’t fully accounted for in these three images. It’s a large Wealden Hall that has been dated to the early 1400s.

Pendean sits out of view on the top slopes of the museum grounds. Its timbers are dated to 1609 (the year they were felled – amazing, isn’t it).

Tindalls Cottage is more recent, being from the 1700s. It has a bit of an eerie vibe about it, not sure why.

Mediaeval Hall dates from the 1600s. It’s a beauty.

I’ve been visiting the museum since 2018 but only managed to see the cart and vehicle section for the first time during this visit. Some of the wheels on show were huge. It would have been amazing to see these carts wending their way around Sussex once upon a time.

Thanks for reading

Oak timbers

Austrian Alps: up and down Schafberg

Daniel GreenwoodLeave a comment

Schafberg, Salzkammergut, Austria, June 2025

Welcome to a big blog of sunny alpine images, from my walking highlight of the year so far. Down we go!

My wife and I travelled by train to the Austrian Alps this summer, and we took one more train to reach the top of Schafberg (1782m) – the Schafbergbahn.

The images here are in chronological order as we descended, trying not to be too distracted as we picked our way down through the rocky tracks. I would recommend using at least one walking pole while doing this walk because it is so steep. The walk was nearly 8 miles and took us about 5 hours (because I stop a lot to take photos).

To the south-west you can see the high peaks of the Dachstein range (3600m), an area we haven’t explored yet.

The dramatic peak of Spinnerin seen from the top of Schafberg

This walk is simply heading down the main (uneven and steep) paths to Wolfgangsee, ending up at St. Gilgen. You can do this as a daytrip from Salzburg, but you need to get the boat to the train station.

You can stay on Schafberg for the night in the hotel, or you can just have lunch and enjoy the views.

You’ll have to get approval from the alpine choughs though, they rule the roost up there.

The first inverts I noticed were these hoverflies (probably droneflies) feeding on this brassica.

This willow shrub was growing out of one of the viewpoints (see below), and had lots of insects waiting for their close up. This is a saw-fly.

This chrome beetle is in the Genus Chrysolina.

This is one of the Cercopis froghoppers.

To put these pics in context, here’s me taking the photos above!

And a video to show some of the lakes to the north.

I love scorpion-flies and this photo nicely shows the faux-stinger on the insect’s tail. This landed on my wife’s arm, as with the images below.

This is one of those tiny solitary wasps, possibly a gall-wasp.

Globeflower is a common occurrence in the Alps.

Mountain pine is like a shrub dotted around the alpine grasslands.

The limestone can be seen where the grasslands can’t grow. Thankfully the decline wasn’t as steep as this on the main path, but it wasn’t that far off.

The butterflies were not as numerous as they were lower down on Zwölferhorn, but there were a good number of fritillaries. iNaturalist is suggesting this is pearl-bordered frit.

On the rocky outcrops of the path the flowers were a-bloomin’. This is kidney-vetch, unless I’m mistaken.

Silvery-yarrow is a new species for me.

Globe flowers are a group I remember well from the Swiss Alps, they are probably more of a spring species than in mid-June. Not to be confused with the buttercup globeflower seen above.

I think this is rock thyme, which looks a lot like ground-ivy.

The views are spectacular along this part of the walk, so it’s a matter of looking at the plants and butterflies around your feet, and the vistas beyond, without tripping up!

The train meets you as the steepest stretch of the walk comes to an end. The gradient is nicely illustrated here.

You pass the Gasthof Schafberg-Alpe which is not in use at the moment. It’s the site of the station before the top of Schafberg. You can jump out here and walk up, or get the train back down. We continued on to St. Gilgen, down through the woods.

The ground levels out here and the walking is gentler for a time. The views are some of the most awe-inspiring I’ve encountered.

There are a number of wooden huts in this part of the walk, which make for helpful foreground subjects, with Dachstein in the distance.

As per my previous Austrian Alps post, the only orchids on show were early-purples.

The meadows were looking mighty fine.

It’s at this point that you can see how far you’ve come (literally) as the path then moves into woodland.

The shade was welcome, but it was very steep and winding.

This is probably another pearl-bordered frit, feeding on a plant I actually have in my garden here but that grows wild in the mountains – perennial cornflower.

Don’t worry you can’t get poisoned through your screen. This is deadly nightshade, also known as henbane, growing in the woods below Schafberg.

Now, this is the biggest orchid I’ve ever seen. My foot in the image on the right should show just how tall this is – knee-height. Does anyone know what on earth is happening here – is it some kind of hybrid?

This is an out-of-focus phone pic but it’s a species I don’t see often – spiked rampion.

On a fallen tree across the track I found a nice collection of wolf’s milk slime mould. I was too tired to pop them.

We arrived in the village of Winkl and soon we were among hay meadows.

This brown-black carpenter ant was poised on a fencepost, perfect for a pic. There were a couple higher up on Schafberg, so it must have been one of their ‘flying-ant days’ as we say in England.

Another species that I only see when in Europe is this buck’s-beard, growing at the roadside.

Having descended to the shore of Wolfgangsee, there were these lovely willow-leaved yellow oxeyes growing at the edge of the path.

To end, I was quite tired by this point and wondered what on earth was happening. This is a mix of phone pics and mirrorless camera pics, of the scene of a dead horsefly being eaten by a cinnamon bug. If you look more closely you can see a red mite on the head of the bug, so the mite is the winner!

Thanks for reading.

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Books: Reading the First World War

Daniel Greenwood9 Comments
Red poppies frame a green vista that reaches the blue of the sea.

It’s been more than 20 years since I studied First World War fiction in sixth form college. It remains some of my favourite reading and has dominated my book consumption of late, so here’s a run-through of my adventures in this very challenging area of literature and history.

My family and the First World War

The face above is that of my great-grandfather Wilfred Hill (1896-1961). Here he is posing in his British army uniform some time around 1914 as he prepared to go to join the First World War (WWI). Both my paternal great-grandfathers served in WWI and both of them survived. One was at Ypres, the other at the Somme, both battles renowned for the conditions experienced by soldiers and the extreme loss of life.

At the Battle of Ypres there were 76,000 deaths.

On the first day of the Battle of the Somme there were nearly 20,000 deaths of British soldiers.

Chateau Wood Ypres 1917 by Frank Hurley

I don’t know much about my great-grandfather Wilfred’s stint, but I do know he was a runner and may have been rescued by Canadian soldiers after being buried alive in a shell-blast.

First World War literature

At A-level (aged 16-19) I studied the war poets Wilfried Owen and Rupert Brooke, and the more contemporary novels Birdsong (1993) by Sebastian Faulks and Regeneration (1991) by Pat Barker.

I found Birdsong ‘unputdownable’, but Regeneration a bit more difficult to love at the time.

The poetry has not really stayed with me, possibly because it is so tragic, Wilfred Owen being killed so late in the war. Part three of Barker’s Regeneration trilogy – The Ghost Road (1995) – dramatises Owen’s death, what I felt to be the best of the three novels. It also won the Booker Prize in 1995.

Another WWI novel that really captured my late-teenage mind was the Ice Cream War (1982) by William Boyd, telling the story of life in Africa while the British and German empires battled one another for territory. It began to reveal to me the complexity of empire, war and the relationships between the people mixing in those places.

“They didn’t talk about it”

My great-grandfather Wilfred was 22 when the war ended, but he had probably lived many lives over in that four years.

When I spoke to my dad about his grandfathers’ roles in that war, he said they didn’t talk about it. His maternal grandfather, Charles (born 1895), didn’t say much at all by the sounds of it! The issue of WWI veterans not talking about the war or the difficulty integrating into society during and after the war is a major theme of WWI literature, such was the brutality of it all. I’ve read about it in Regeneration, Birdsong, and the German novel The Way Back (1931) by Erich Maria Remarque.

J.L. Carr’s A Month in the Country (1980) tells the story of a WWI veteran who moves to a Yorkshire village to restore a church mural, post-war. The story expresses some of the social issues found in rural village life, between those who had served and those who had remained at home, not least the difficulty of finding love again.

Returning to the WWI novel

In 2024 I enjoyed a rich seam of fiction, mainly WWI literature, including the Pat Barker trilogy Life Class (2007), Toby’s Room (2012), and Noonday (2015). Looking at my reading list from last year, it didn’t include a single ‘nature writing’ book, which may surprise some readers of this blog. Instead my list is comprised almost completely of novels about WWI.

I wonder why that is. I remain staunchly anti-war (but aware of the need for self-defence) in my personal outlook on world events. Perhaps the wars in Ukraine, Gaza, and Sudan have me trying to understand why these things happen and the impact they have on people swept up by them. Perhaps I am preparing myself for what Trump’s election means for Europe, and the potential selling-out of Ukraine, and thus Europe, by his inexplicable cosying up to Putin, a war criminal.

Non-British perspectives

During my university years my dad handed me his copy of The Good Soldier Svejk (1923), a satirical account of a Czech soldier serving the Austro-Hungarian Empire in WWI, against the French and British forces. It is one of the few books that has made me laugh out loud, not something you will really find in British WWI lit. The illustration above should offer you a sense of it.

Offering an Irish perspective, Sebastian Barry has two exceptional novels which cover this terrible period in history.

The brilliant A Long Long Way (2005) by Barry includes elements of the Irish ‘Easter Rising’, which helped me to understand how the two conflicts were interlaced, and how much WWI was a war of collapsing European empires. Though not focused solely on the war, The Whereabouts of Eneas McNulty (1998) tells the story of a man’s life through both WWI and the Second World War (WWII). It’s one of the most enthralling novels I’ve read in a long time and has the feel of a classic to me.

Prince Leopold of Bavaria inspecting German soldiers on the
Western Front on 14 November 1914.

At school we didn’t study All Quiet on the Western Front (Remarque, 1928) but in the autumn of 2024 I finally read it, having already seen the Netflix adaptation. As many will already know, it is an incredible novel. It is possibly the first WWI novel I’ve read from a German perspective, but the anti-war sentiments are universal. There is so much more that could be said about this novel. The Way Back is the follow-up, but I didn’t finish it because I was reaching my temporary limit for WWI reading.

Empires at War

Speaking of collapsing empires, Sathnam Sanghera’s non-fiction Empireland (2021) really is worth reading. I enjoyed it so much I then read Empireworld (2024), which is also excellent but heavy. It covers slavery in some detail, and it’s harrowing reading.

There is so much about our lives over here in Britain that can be better understood within the colonial context of the British Empire. I know that some can apparently feel quite unhappy about this being raised (not that I have actually met anyone who is), but Sanghera is not looking to goad or whip up division on the topic. I feel that he makes that point very well throughout, but you wonder how fair it is that he keeps having to say it.

In the south of England soldiers from the Indian regiments stayed in temporary hospitals at the Royal Pavillion in Brighton, and out on the heaths in what is now the New Forest National Park. This post on the University of Sussex blog goes into excellent visual and historical detail about the Indian contingent in Brighton.

British soldier and professional footballer Walter Tull who died serving in WW1 (1888-1918)

Moving into 2025, I began the year reading David Olusoga’s The World’s War (2014). Olusoga is a WWI enthusiast, and this is one of the best books I’ve read on the subject. You may know David Olusoga from A House Through Time and his writing about the Bristol statue riots in 2020. He now is a Goalhanger podcaster with Sarah Churchwell on Journey Through Time. The World’s War helped me to understand just how vast WWI was at continuous landscape-scale.

WWI was the first time men of colour came to fight in European wars on European soil.  This exposed the varying degrees of racism and white supremacy in each army, but perhaps went furthest in highlighting the seedlings of fascist ideology growing in pre-Nazi Germany. Olusoga ranks the fledgling American military as one of the worst – perhaps unsurprisingly – whereas the French military allowed men of colour to rise up the ranks and be treated with a greater degree of respect. That said, the violence experienced by black American military personnel in St. Nazaire left many questions, and the treatment of colonised Senegalese regiments in the French army echoes the worst of white supremacist imperialism.

Black and white image of barbed wire, concrete posts at Auschwitz Concentration Camp.
Black and white 35mm film image of Auschwitz I took in June 2009

Germany waged racist propaganda against the Allies and their black regiments during and after WWI. Olusoga makes the case for how this virulent strain of white supremacy provided the foundation for Hitler, with children born of relationships between white German women and black Allied soldiers being forcibly sterilised to ‘protect the white race’. We should all know by now that Hitler and his acolytes focused the national shame of losing WWI on a lack of racial purity, and we all know that it ended up at Auschwitz where 6million Jews were murdered, as well as many Roma, black, LGBT and disabled people.

One of the most shocking and appalling outcomes of the post-war (or inter-war) period was the wave of murders carried out against black American servicemen on their return from WWI. The worst excesses of white American, anti-black hate reared its head, leading to the brutal killing of decorated soldiers and their families on the streets of the United States. I didn’t know about this, and I felt sickened reading about it.

Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture, Photographs and Prints Division, The New York Public Library. “The 369th Infantry Regiment, also known as the Harlem Hellfighters, a well-known New York based black regiment during World War I, returning home” The New York Public Library Digital Collections. 1919.

The summer of 1919 was known as the ‘Red Summer’. White American racists, including well known outfits like the Ku Klux Klan, felt that black Americans needed to be ‘put in their place’ after their achievements on the Western Front. What expresses the feral nature of this violence is how women and children seemed to be involved in these attacks and crimes, not merely men. Black men were lynched in their military uniforms.

Indeed, many of the issues I have witnessed in my lifetime arguably have echoes in the 1910s. Not least the rise of the far-right in Europe and white supremacy in America are obviously not new issues.

They’re just issues I thought society had learned from, having seen where these issues end up.

What can we learn from reading the First World War?

What I take from reading this wide array of fiction and non-fiction is that war is stupid, cruel and driven by greed. The suffering experienced by people during WWI is not something I feel I can comprehend, but the voices of the people who lived through it can teach us important lessons. Those lessons are that war is misery and wars of aggression, like Putin’s in Ukraine and now Netanyahu’s on the civilians of Gaza, should never happen. War destroys not just people and culture but landscapes and ecosystems humanity depends upon for a stable existence.

Do you have any recommendations? Please let me know in the comments.

Thanks for reading.

Books

Dartmoor waxcaps

Daniel Greenwood6 Comments

This is a showcase of the posh mushroom pics I gathered with my proper camera during a visit to the wonderful Dartmoor National Park in November 2024. Mad props to my wife who is chief squirrel during these Devonian photo forages.

The photos were taken on Sunday 10th November 2024.

I write these blogs in my spare time because I want to raise awareness about the beauty and diversity of fungi. If you enjoy reading them you can support my blog here.

A reminder that I am not encouraging people to pick or remove mushrooms in these areas. You could very easily clear all the mushrooms we saw within minutes. I think that would be sad because it would mean other people wouldn’t get to see them and learn or be inspired by them. I think with rare species like waxcaps that are featured here, we should be taking photos and submitting them to apps like iNaturalist or Plantlife’s waxcap campaign. In some areas that would be illegal anyway, due to site protections.

While I don’t believe 2024 will go down as a vintage mushroom season, there were a lot of lovely waxcaps to be found on the moor in a place we’ve been visiting since 2016. Moorlands seem to be quite good for waxcaps, not that I know why, and also for lichens because they are rocky, wet and the air is fresh.

I’ll post the images in chronological order for my own sanity.

This is the landscape where the fungi lived – moorland with a view towards the Teign estuary.

The first fungal find were these eyelash cups (Scutellinia) growing on animal dung! Plenty more dungi to come.

Waxcaps make up the crux of the mushrooms we found. These beauties are butter waxcaps (Hygrocybe ceracea).

Not to be outdone, some very photogenic sulphur tuft (Hypholoma fasciculare) were found as we climbed the moor.

These mottlegills (Panaeolus) are quite common in places with grazing livestock like Dartmoor ponies.

My best guess is that this was one of the moss bells (Galerina).

These lichens are beautiful. I don’t see them very often because I have to travel west see moorland. They’re probably gritty British soldier lichens (Cladonia floerkeana).

I’m unsure what this species is, but it’s a beauty.

As we approached the more remote moorland (in terms of people living out there) the waxcaps began to appear in the cropped turf. This is another example of how important grazing to some degree is, and how it mimics very ancient processes. These mushrooms would not grow in closed-canopy woodlands.

This is one of the red waxcaps, but I’m unsure if it’s honey waxcap or not. It looks too orange for scarlet waxcap.

This is one of several species under the umbrella of blackening waxcap or witches’ bonnet (Hygrocybe conica complex).

This isn’t an award winning image but it’s likely to be meadow coral (Calvulinopsis corniculata).

This is a species I only really see in the west of England or Ireland. It’s one of the dog lichens (Peltigera).

These are crimson waxcaps (Hygrocybe punicea), stunning mushrooms indeed. There were some young men passing by who stopped to admire the colours of these impressive shrooms.

I don’t have an identification yet for this gorgeous waxcap and the closest I can guess is a colour variation of parrot waxcap (Gliophorus psittacinus).

This is meadow waxcap (Hygrocybe pratensis), often fan-like, always best photographed from ground level.

I think this is golden waxcap (Hygrocybe chlorophana).

Now we’re back at the dungi. This was a very small mushroom, growing on a rabbit or hare dropping.

These are probably dung roundhead (Protostropharia semigloblata). Despite the animal dung, they’re beautiful!

I’m not up on my corals and suchlike, but these are probably in this family.

The walk ended in a little graveyard, great places for waxcaps, by the way. That was evidenced again by this clutch of what I would say were scarlet waxcaps (Hygrocybe coccinea).

Phew!

Thanks for reading.

I write these blogs in my spare time because I want to raise awareness about the beauty and diversity of fungi. If you enjoy reading them you can support my blog here.

Snapshots of Salzburg 🧂

Daniel GreenwoodLeave a comment

In May 2024 I visited Salzburg in Austria for the first time. It’s a beautiful city in a wonderful part of Europe. The photos are taken with my Olympus EM-1 Mark III with a sprinkle of my Olympus TG-6 compact, and Pixel 7a.

One of my wife’s prerequisites for the visit (part of our honeymoon rail adventure – see Swiss Alps posts) was to attend the Sound of Music tour which begins in Salzburg. I love the film (thanks to my friend and blog reader Allison for lending me the DVD), but admit to remaining silent on that bus!

The building above is Schloss Leopoldskron and was used in the film, combined with another location. In the distance you can see the hill of Gaisberg which lurks throughout this post.

Just outside the city centre we were driven to Schloss Hellbrunn and the famous gazebo where ‘Sixteen Going on Seventeen’ was set. The scene inside the gazebo was a set as it was too small for actual dancing.

Our excellent guide finished the tour (which takes you much further outside Salzburg) at the Mirabelle Palace Gardens. In the distance you can see the iconic Hohensalzburg Fortress.

Here’s the Hohensalzburg Fortress in spectacular light after heavy rain later that evening. Taken with my Olympus TG6 compact camera.

The evening light falling across one of several bridges that connects the old and new towns of Salzberg, crossing the Salzbach river.

The reverse view to the north-west.

The following morning we passed the St. Sebastian Church, sited along a pedestrianised street. Mozart’s father and wife are buried in the cemetery here.

The Old Fox was a pub we ate at later that evening, as we have a penchant for foxes (not eating them). The food was good, but like many places in Austria their approach to accommodating and supporting people with nut allergies needs work. It’s a lovely old pub inside and out.

Mülln Parish Church seen from one of the bridges across the Salzach. The hill here is the outcrop that holds the Fortress.

I think this is my favourite image that I captured from Salzburg. It shows so much of the city’s character, including the ancient heritage, layers of architecture, a cable car (very useful in Austria), and the life of the place. The processing is maybe a bit harsh.

Inside the Fortress walls, now a major tourist attraction. Of course there’s a lime tree, it is central-eastern Europe after all.

The views of the Salzkammergut mountains from the Fortress are spectacular.

The Salzach river snaking away to the north and north-west where it becomes the boundary between Bavaria (Germany) and Austria. It eventually finds its way into the mighty river Inn.

This is the first view in this post of Salzburg Cathedral, originally built in the 700s.

The cathedral has been restored after it was bombed by the Allies in October 1944 as the Second World War reached its climax. Many thousands of people, including civilians, lost their lives in the British and American bombings of Austria and Germany.

The towers were reconstructed by 1959.

The cemetery near the cathedral is a lovely, quiet spot. This is a Pixel 7a pic, hence the fancy colours.

There are many lovely towers to see in Salzburg. Here you can see evidence of how green the city is, looking into the mountains.

Gaisberg as seen on the approach to the monastery, with a Sound of Music fan eagerly making their way there.

Stiegl was the nicest beer that I tried during our time in Austria. It’s a wheat beer. This is one of their breweries and apparently dates back in part to the 1400s.

We walked up from the city to the Benedictine Abbey of Nonnberg, another location for The South of Music.

The view from our hotel room was special, mixing Salzburg architecture with the surrounding peaks of Salzburgerland. An almighty storm arrived not long after this photo was taken.

Looking from another window in our room, the clouds drifted over Gaisberg.

Thanks for reading.

I write these blogs in my spare time because I want to raise awareness about the beauty and diversity of our landscapes. If you enjoy reading them you can support my blog here.

Swiss Alps: where sycamore trees feel at home

Daniel Greenwood2 Comments

Continuing my series of posts about visiting the Jungfrau region of the Swiss Alps in May 2024, this one focuses on the sycamore trees which are so abundant there. They were seen on a short but constantly ascending walk at the foot of the Wetterhorn.

If you want to do this 3-mile walk for yourself, it begins in Grindelwald and ends at the owl sanctuary/mountain café with a return bus available at the end. This is the route we took (ignore the starting point, just begin anywhere in Grindelwald):

I’ve posted a couple of times about the sycamore tree (Acer pseudoplatanus) as I think it straddles that special boundary between human culture and wildness that is probably my creative sweet-spot. In Britain sycamore is at once reviled by nature conservation puritans, accepted by rewilding pragmatists, and held as a symbol for the British love of trees in the form of the illegally felled and now martyred Sycamore Gap tree.

In the Bernese Oberland I saw sycamores playing a fundamental role in cultural landscapes at the foot of the Wetterhorn, one of the Jungfrau’s towering peaks.

What do I mean by cultural landscapes? My understanding and use here indicates a landscape that remains wild or ‘natural’ but with a heavy human influence still. English national parks are cultural landscapes, whereas those managed by wolves and grazing animals without human management plans in North America, are ‘wildernesses’. That in itself is questionable from a Native American perspective, but another blog.

There isn’t a lot of information about sycamore wood pasture as a cultural landscape but for this dissertation about sycamore wood pasture in the Northern Alps.

The Wetterhorn seen above meadows of yellow rattle, and kidney vetch, both growing in profusion.

I posted more generally about the meadows of Grindelwald (a mile west of this location) here:

Swiss Alps: Grindelwald’s magnificent meadows 🦗

A reminder that you shouldn’t pick flowers, trample on them, or knowingly disturb wildlife or livestock in these extremely sensitive places. In terms of you being trampled, cattle were behind electric fencing where present.

The cattle are an iconic element of these landscapes in the Alps, and provide an important role in grazing the grasslands.

The signage is impressive in Switzerland, some provide hours and minutes route descriptions of destinations. Not something I’d seen before, but now there’s no going back, or at least if there is, you will know how long it takes!

The walk crosses the Horbach river at least once.

A large, moss and lichen-covered ash tree (Fraxinus) showing no signs of ash dieback disease, thankfully.

It was nice to see some roughness and history in what is an otherwise ‘spick and span’ setting. I presume the huts are built on stone to prevent rising damp decaying the timber frame.

Spiked rampion was a new plant for us. Apparently it’s endangered in the UK. It was growing in woodlands and meadows around the Grindelwald area.

His a mighty view of the Horbach looking towards the Eiger.

Red-banded polypore is common in continental Europe but not as easy to find in the UK, so I always enjoy seeing it.

I love woodland ponds, especially ones as wild and dynamic as this one. This is probably an ancient pond.

After this point you reach a hotel which I didn’t take any photos of. It’s a good place to have a hearty meal. Just don’t expect to charge any devices, we heard an English couple seemingly fall out with the staff over that. Oops.

After stopping at the hotel you pass this incredible cut in the mountain side. The rock looks twisted and dramatically compressed. There’s a small quarry in operation, glimpsed in the right hand corner.

These walks always involve huts belonging to local people. What a life that once would have been.

After this hut we turned into the sycamore wood pasture.

I know very little about mountain hydrology and the role that meltwater plays in feeding ecosystems lower down. But looking at the lushness of this meadows makes me wonder about how the ice melt provides such a fertile location for grassland, and sycamores. Sycamores do well in damp conditions, but not too wet.

Other lifeforms that enjoy wet conditions are of course mosses. They’re thick on this trunk. I didn’t spend any time attempting to identify any.

Fairy foxglove (Erinus alpinus) is another new plant we encountered. It was growing on the footpath.

A view into what I think is the Upper Grindelwald Glacier (Oberer Grindelwaldgletscher).

Walking in such an awesome location can feel rather overwhelming.

View north-east with a group of moss-darkened sycamores before growths of spruce. I think the peaks beyond the snowy tops can be reached by walking into the Grindelwald First gondola, accessible via the town centre.

A view south-west towards the Eiger ridge.

An old pollard sycamore coming into leaf for another year. The trunk is thick with moss and no doubt with lichen and algae too.

The Eiger Trail passes up here over the snow but it was closed due to rockfall.

Early-purple orchid was not a common sighting during our time in the Alps, so seeing one against the vista of Grindelwald was nice.

Looking west towards Männlichen (see post here).

I was intrigued by these stone walls, reminding me of forgotten settlements seen in Ireland, Scotland, Dartmoor or Yorkshire. It’s a contrast with the tidy timbers of Grindelwald.

The walk ends at this lovely cafe on the road, across from the bird sanctuary.

Some old shoes on display. Made with sycamore wood?

Just a few of the treats on offer.

There aren’t many cafes that can beat this view.

The Alpine Bird sanctuary (Alpenvogel Park), home to capercaillie, eagle owl, snowy owl, long-eared and tawny owls.

Thanks for reading.

My 2024 in photography

Daniel Greenwood6 Comments

Another year completed and lessons learned. Creatively I have found a balance with my equipment and the actual process of photography. I’m into my 6th year of working with Micro Four Thirds cameras and lenses, giving more space to enjoy the process of gathering photos – walking – because the equipment is light.

Cameras used include Olympus EM-5 Mark III, Oly EM-1 Mark III, Olympus TG-6 Tough compact camera, and Pixel 7a phone camera.

These photos should show the range of things I like to take pics of – not just mushrooms! 😂

With the privileges available to me – health, location, resources, freedom of expression – here are my photographic highlights of 2024:

January

I did a couple of long walks in Sussex at the beginning of the year, exploring some new locations around the South Downs. I visited St. Botolphs church for the first time, one of Sussex’s special ones among thousands of already significant churches. Last year I set up a gallery for my fledging church photographs project which can be viewed here.

February

This felt like the moment of the light returning after the dark winter months. The Downs at Amberley are my gateway to the South Downs, and walking here is always worth the gentle climb.

March

In March I visited Dublin for a weekend and took in the sights along the great river Liffey.

For a friend’s birthday we spent the weekend in York, which gave me a chance to take some compact camera pics of a few of the oak timber framed buildings. I’ve added a gallery for my ‘Oak Timbers’ project here.

April

I got married in April so there wasn’t time for much beyond the odd local walk. I was trying out my new Pixel 7a, bought because of its value and reported image quality. The camera is spectacular, I just wish it wasn’t a G**gle product. I blogged about it here.

May

Ah, memories. In May we went on our honeymoon to Austria and Switzerland, all by train. You may be sick of reading about that! I am definitely not sick of blogging about it though!

This was one of those one-off photos experiences. Thankfully the weather held and we saw the mountains in much of their glory.

June

A bit of a lost month for photography because I started (yet another) new job and had to settle into a new routine. The highlight was probably these sawfly larvae which ate through some of the leaves on my gooseberry. Blog here.

July

“July, July, it never seemed so strange”, as the Decemberists sang. I caught Covid and didn’t really get back to normal for 3 months afterwards (Vitamin D is very important, people). My macro work was reduced by the evil contagion but I did find some nice bugs near home to share.

August

I managed to pap some pretty fine inverts in August, with this beautiful ichneumon wasp seen in my garden. I’ve not got anywhere near enough out of my Olympus EM-1 Mark iii and 60mm macro, but this showed just how good Micro Four Thirds cameras are for macro.

Another strongpoint for M43 cameras is that they can ‘stack’ images internally, something now copied by the big hitters. This is a composite of about 10 photos the camera has laced together to ensure the depth of field covers a deeper focus range. It means more of the, rather gruesome, subject can be seen in detail.

September

In September I made my first ever visit to the iconic sea stacks at Downpatrick Head on the North Mayo Coast in Ireland. Mayo has an international dark skies designation so I was able to mess around with the Milky Way. But for the astro photo I haven’t processed these images yet so here are a couple of phone photos.

October

As I have lamented on my Fungi Friday blog, 2024 was not the best mushroom season. But there are always things to find out there. I found this knocked over fly agaric, which was in perfect condition, ready for its portrait.

November

Autumn is a time for Dartmoor for me and my wife, and despite colds we managed some walks onto the moors in the National Park. We found an amazing array of waxcaps, like the crimsons above, which you can see in full on Fungi Friday.

On the last day of November I hiked with my South Downs amigo from Ditchling into the mist. This is the much-photographed Ditchling dew pond, shrouded in mist.

December

The weather in December was very grey and damp, and all the Christmas demands gave me only one meaningful walk – to Pulborough Brooks in West Sussex.

Thanks for all your support in 2024 and wishing you peace and happiness in 2025.

Swiss Alps: mountain woodland flowers at Pfinstegg, Grindelwald🚡

Daniel Greenwood4 Comments

Continuing my series of posts about the landscape of the Jungfrau mountains in Switzerland, here is a look at some of the woodland plants seen above Grindelwald.

Just to say: picking or trampling on wildflowers is not advised, and may be illegal in some locations. The meadows shown here form part of people’s livelihoods as well as being sensitive habitats. Woodlands are extremely sensitive to our footsteps so stick to designated paths where you can. Check the regulations around foraging before you go and show respect for people and wild plants, animals and fungi when you visit. There’s a lot of livestock around, usually behind fences, but they’re so noisy you can’t miss them.

The photos here are a mix of mirrorless camera and phone. The plants photos are mainly taken with my Pixel 7a, the landscape photos with my Olympus EM1 Mark III. All have been lightly processed.

The walk

The walk was a fairly short one in length, mainly due to the altitude and general tiredness from travelling. It would be a good one if you’re visiting from Interlaken on a day when it’s not worth going higher or it’s too early in the season.

The walk is about 2.5 miles and can be done more quickly if you’re not taking photos of plants!

All the high trails, including the Eiger Trail, were closed when we visited. Climate change may be making rockfall more common and therefore the higher trails are more dangerous.

It’s possible you can do this walk and see absolutely no one, but for a farmer or two, after you pass the toboggan run.

We took the Pfinstegg cable car up to the Berghaus restaurant, had some chips, and walked down to the village, past the toboggan run.

What you can’t hear is the sound of middle-class Americans talking about their Adriatic travel plans.

One image I wanted to share was this exhibition of alpine heritage. Here you can see the array of bells used in the Jungfrau for cattle management. The sound of the cowbells is one of the signifiers that you are in the Swiss Alps. Of course the same can be said for many mountain regions, but each one has its cultural differences. That’s a different blog entirely!

Alpine flowers (1300m)

One of the more common sightings in the alpine zone was alpine butterwort, (Pinguicula alpina).

Another common one was shrubby milkwort (Polygaloides chamaebuxus).

A regular of this habitat was leafless stemmed globularia (Globularia nudicaulis). They look like little lilac mops.

At this point the views of Grindelwald began to be swallowed by the spring woodlands.

In the woods

As you can imagine, the water was crashing down as the snow melted. A lot of work is going into observing the changes in the glaciers in the Swiss Alps, which is happening at an alarming rate here.

You can get views of the Lower Grindelwald Glacier from this walk (though this was taken lower down). This glacier shrunk by over a mile between 1973 and 2015.

I love a new violet species that’s easier to identify than ours at home. This is twoflower violet (Viola biflora) and was only seen in the woods at the edge of lanes.

It’s always nice to find globeflower (Trollius europaeus), a species of buttercup.

This was a new species for me – may lily (Maianthemum bifolum). It looks more similar to something like black bryony or bindweed to the untrained eye (this one).

This cranefly was resting on the leaves of yellow archangel, a woodland plant we seem to be losing in the UK.

It’s always a joy to encounter herb paris (Paris quadrifolia). I think the columbine (Aquilegia vulgaris) seen here is probably a garden escape, though it is an ancient woodland plant as well, so I may be wrong. I hope it’s the wild one!

There was more herb paris, but only in the woods.

There were a couple of valerians. This one is three-leaved valerian (Valeriana tripteris). It was growing in wet areas.

I also saw marsh valerian (Valeriana dioica).

Now, there weren’t a lot of orchids out at the time as it was probably too early in the season. But this is bird-nest orchid (Neottia nidus-avis), which I’ve only really seen in the chalky woods of the North Downs in England.

This is fly honeysuckle (Lonicera xylosteum), a strangely shrubby honeysuckle compared with the climber we have in the UK. It’s been introduced to Britain but I’ve never bumped into it.

Hillside meadows

Let’s just take in the views of the Wetterhorn for a bit…

I’d like to be out walking in World Heritage landscapes every week, but alas, it will just have to be once or twice in life.

Looking south-west towards the Eiger.

Mountain sainfoin (Onobrychis montana) was one of the most eye-catching plants, growing at the edges of the lane if I remember rightly.

The spring really glows in this image, despite the misty conditions. The sycamores are coming into leaf.

This is a view down the valley where the train returns to Interlaken.

This is something I’d never seen before – a totemic welcome for Aaron who was born on 4th May 2024. Perhaps this is a tradition in this part of Switzerland?

The views across towards Grindelwald First come into view as space opens up on the woods. You can see all of the chalets that dot the meadows.

I was intrigued by these rustic chalets that were more indicative of a rural way of life, compared with the guesthouses in the valley. It looked lived-in or at least used by people who made use of wood products. What a lovely place to be able to escape to in the summer. Of course communities would have developed from these single dwellings across the Alps.

This image looks north towards the other side of the valley. The yellow hue in the meadows is either kidney vetch or birds-foot trefoil.

The lovely spiralling shell of a snail roosting in a tree.

These umbellifer-rich meadows were a joy to behold.

The lower we got (c.1000m) the more abundant yellow rattle become. This is probably Rhianthus serotinus.

This is the Black Lütschine, one of the rivers that flows into Lake Brienz. It was very powerful. Its source is the Lower Grindelward Glacier, pictured earlier in this post.

The meadows around people’s houses – this looks like an orchard – were in fine condition.

Thanks for reading.

I write these blogs in my spare time because I want to raise awareness about the beauty and diversity of our landscapes. If you enjoy reading them you can support my blog here.

Can you really ‘transplant’ an ancient woodland?

Daniel Greenwood12 Comments

I was listening to Nicky Campbell’s BBC Radio 5 Live call-in the other day when a comment from one of the guests stopped me in my typing tracks. The subject was whether the government should ditch the midlands/northern leg of High Speed Rail 2 (HS2) from Birmingham to Manchester, which they now have scrapped.

The rail expert said that he had ‘regrown an ancient woodland’ with acorns from a felled or cleared site during the creation of High Speed 1 (HS1), the line that runs from Kent to London St. Pancras International. There was no confirmation of which woodland the man was talking about.

Nicky Campbell did question this clearly unusual comment about ‘ancientness’, but it wasn’t final and the rail expert had the last word. Let’s look at the facts.

Wood anemone, an ancient woodland indicator plant

Ancient woodlands are wooded landscapes home to assemblages of particular species relevant to their locale (trees and wildflowers, fungi, invertebrates) that have been on maps since the year 1600. Their soils are rich in fungi and invertebrates, ecosystems that have developed over a very long time.

So is it possible to remove this landscape and put it somewhere else?

HS2 has been trying. They have been moving soil and, apparently, in some cases trees. This method says so much about our relationship with landscapes today – we can just move things around like pieces of Lego, and surely everything will be fine?

In my view, the equivalent of this is wheeling a patient out of a hospital and leaving them in the car park. ‘There you go,’ the doctors might say. ‘Consider yourself replanted.’

It’s like taking the Mona Lisa and chucking it into the sea.

To some ecologists it’s just beyond belief.

What is so problematic about this rail expert’s statement, beyond the obvious? It’s greenwashing from people, intentional or not, who profit from development of ancient woodland, or who think their expertise in one area allows them free reign elsewhere. I’m sure there are housebuilders out there lamenting environmentalists who think they are also experts in constructing properties.

This kind of greenwashing is a green light for bad planning, dodgy development and accelerated destruction of England’s already depleted wild and natural places. I think it’s important to challenge it when it does rear its head. Once an ancient woodland and all its wildlife and heritage is gone, it’s not coming back.

Thanks for reading.

Somewhere between a cuckoo and a high speed train

Woods under threat from HS2 – The Woodland Trust