So, the old joke goes like this:
An American was visiting a British coastline that was littered with rocks the size of cabbages. Big, smooth, water-eroded stones. Not a grain of sand to be seen anywhere. Just huge rocks big enough to anchor a small yacht. Stumbling along the shoreline, the American ran into an Englishman and his wife who were going, “To the beach,” and were chatting about all the “pebbles” everywhere.
The American chuckled and said, “Pebbles? What the hell do you people call a rock?”
The Englishman glances at the American and says, with typical British understated reserve, “Gibraltar.”
Today we look at Gibraltar, a stop Ursula and I made in December during a cruise. Unfortunately, the weather did not hold on this part of the trip. Visibility at the top was obscured, and misty clouds formed on the leeward side.
Nevertheless, the Barbary Macaques were ever-present to give a show, and one never needs good weather when inside St. Michael’s Cave. Fortifications dot the Rock of Gibraltar, including the Moorish Castle pictured below. On the ascent you will find a monument denoting Gibraltar’s mythic importance as one of the ancient Pillars of Hercules.
Anyway, sorry for the image quality. Sometimes, no matter how well prepared the photographer, Mother Nature has other plans for your shooting endeavors.