Photography then and now

Taking, editing, manipulating, storing and retrieving photographs in the 21st century would be a barely recognizable pastime for my ancestors of the late 1800s.

I’m lucky enough to have in my possession prints taken from Victorian plates which were taken by my great grandfather. He clearly embraced what was then a new technology by making clever double exposures of himself playing his alter ego at chess and of his wife drinking tea from a dainty cup with herself as companion. He would have had a device similar to the one below whereby focal length was adjusted manually by winding the object lens to and from the plate on rails. It is possible that he may have had his own processing facilities involving chemical baths and washes all accessed from under a black cowl by the user; dark rooms would have been a luxury.

Imagine his amazement if he could see the capabilities of today’s equipment. Instant auto-focus (which can be over-ridden), Instant and adjustable light metering, long and short focal length lenses adjustable by a thumb dab, almost infinitely adjustable processing, at times from within the camera itself, and the ability to create, duplicate, share without limit.

Even in my time I have owned cameras with a fixed lens, minimal or no exposure adjustment and cartridge film – think ‘cloudy, sunny, sun-on-beach settings! I upgraded my camera from time to time but always a few years behind the latest technology for financial reasons and still own what was the 1990s apex of my collection, the Canon 500D, an SLR with interchangeable motor-driven lenses.

In 2003 I stepped into the digital age and consigned my old cameras to a box of mementos and curios. I felt a degree of loyalty to the Canon brand and went through four or five compact ‘point and shoot’ examples before acquiring the 450D, a digital version of my prized SLR which is gratifyingly compatible with my older motor-driven lenses. Eventually I missed the convenience of a pocket sized camera and chose the Sony DSC HX50 with its barely credible 30x optical zoom. That has remained my daily camera.

Since then I seem to have taken over 27,000 images and have them stored on my laptop and backed up on at least five external hard drives. All are tagged by subject or theme or name, or all three and so are instantly retrievable. I edit only lightly by straightening horizon lines, darkening an occasional over-exposure or airbrushing out unwanted intruders.

Lately I have become excited by video and indulged myself with a GoPro ‘action camera’ which is not much bigger than a matchbox but can shoot startlingly sharp footage in up to 4k resolution and can be attached to almost anything using an array of third party fittings and gadgets. I fix it to my bike when we ride, to my car windshield when we drive, to my lapel, or handheld, when we walk. It automatically cancels out shake or vibration and has a wide variety of touch-screen settings. I can edit the footage on my laptop to cut unnecessary sections, slow down, speed up, add music, narration, captions, titles and credits and share online.

Photography in all its forms is a wonderful way to record a life lived.

Hiking from Route 10 to Borden-Carleton on The Confederation Trail

After yesterday’s rain we were treated to a bright sunny Sunday for our final cross-island hike in this series. We drove to yesterday’s finishing point and parked where route 10 crosses the trail. Within just twenty minutes we were strolling through the Bridge Park at Borden-Carleton and passing the Visitor Centre, plaques, information boards and all the other paraphernalia of a Provincial entry/exit point.

 

The wind was howling and several times I dashed back to retrieve my cap. With a fairly short hike for today, we had plenty of time to wander around and I photographed artefacts left over from the railway era. We climbed the stairs inside the model ferry and stood on the upper deck gazing out over a mercury-grey sea. Not surprisingly, with closure of the Atlantic Travel Bubble, traffic on the Confederation Bridge was very light.

 

We left the Bridge behind and walked back to the trail. Soon we were back at the car and congratulating ourselves on completing this long central stretch of the Confederation Trail, from Charlottetown to Borden-Carleton. We’ll come up with more adventures for next year!

Hiking from Albany to Route 10 on The Confederation Trail

 

The penultimate leg of our cross-island hike took us from Albany to the road crossing at Route 6. It was cold with a fine drizzle but surprisingly this was only our second walk in the rain all year. It was also our longest at 11.74 km. We plan to head out tomorrow too and, after today’s effort, we are now left with just a 6km round hike for the final leg which will see us reach the Confederation Bridge at Borden Carleton

Hiking from Kinkora to Albany on The Confederation Trail

Trekking westwards, we picked up the Trail again at Kinkora. This branch of the old railway runs to the old port of Borden and will eventually bring us to the bridge to the mainland. We had encounters with ATV drivers and a miscellany of disused farming equipment but otherwise the 9km hike was only notable for long straight sections under glorious sunshine.

Hiking from Emerald Junction to Kinkora

 

The temperature was barely 2c when we hit the trail last weekend. Nonetheless we kept warm by maintaining a good pace, as you can hear from the rhythmic crunching of our boots! A notable sight along the route was a large collection of truck plow blades and an old wasps nest, which Susan carefully prized apart. The living quarters were incredibly intricate and contained hints of what once lived inside.

The Last Full Measure

 

War films often place over-reliance on action to maintain your attention but last weekend we watched an example where less is more. The Last Full Measure is based on the true story of William H Pitsenbarger, a US Air Force Para-rescue-man whose heroism in the Vietnam War had never received the recognition it deserved.

Pitsenbarher’s story is told through the research of Pentagon staffer, Scott Huffman who is ordered to shelve his fast-track career and instead follow up a request which has been receives for an Air Force Cross to be upgraded to a Medal of Honour. Very reluctantly and without much enthusiasm Huffman interviews former comrades of Pitsenbarger and demonstrates his lack of compassion and indeed lack of knowledge about their sacrifices in the Far East.

Gradually he is drawn into a conspiracy which has prevented Pitsenbarger from getting his true honour. The stories of selfless heroism which are shown in flashback and reveal Pitsenbarger to have been truly a man ready to lay down his life for his fellow fighters, most of whom were army soldiers and not even known to this Air Force man.

Much of the story takes place in offices and living rooms and the scenes involving the airman’s father played by Christopher Plummer are poignant indeed. Huffman puts his career on the line and takes the case to the highest level where eventually he succeeds and at the conclusion, amid stirring speeches, Pitsenbarger’s award is rightfully upgraded to The Medal of Honour.

The Jungle combat scenes are short but realistic and the enduring effects of what would then have been called Shell Shock are plain to see in his surviving colleagues. I can highly recommend this as thoroughly absorbing look at a piece of history and of justice done.

Hiking from Breadalbane to Emerald Junction on The Confederation Trail

Susan was tired after only four hours sleep the night before but insisted she was up for a hike and we completed a round trip of just over 6km, somewhat shorter than our usual jaunts.

This weekend took us from Breadalbane to Emerald Junction. Just before the junction itself, where the line continues west to Kensington and sends a branch line south to Borden Carleton, is the site of the Emerald Junction Station. The station building was saved following closure of the railways and is now home to Bedeque Bay Environmental Association which probably explains a nearby hut with a placard reading Monarch Way Station.

Hiking from Elliotts to Breadalbane on The Confederation Trail

After a summer of cycling we have switched to hiking and although we rode this section of The Confederation Trail only a few weeks ago it was good to take it more slowly and on foot. When the snow comes the Trail will be handed over to the Snowmobile Association who lease it for the winter months but for now it's ours and today we covered 10 km on it.

The trees lining the Trail rustled and creaked under a stiff wind, while here and there patches of ice from a recent snow flurry lingered and autumn birch leaves like gold coins scurried across our path. The sun shone and the sky was blue, belying the single digit temperature. Bovine and equine company abounded. Some very large cows were curious about us from the start and two placid horses ambled over to greet us near our turnaround point.

Susan regaled me with stories of her childhood and at the start of this film she is heard explaining how they ran barefoot through fields of cow pats (patties over here). I feel as though I haven't lived!

You rather wish that farmer would be made to have his ancient rusted machinery hauled away. It is a blot on the landscape and at one point even encroaches on the shoulder of the Trail. The cows didn't mind though and thoughtfully chewed their cud.

A neighbourhood walk around Hermitage Creek

 

The blue sky and sunshine are deceptive. It's 3c and colder days are just around the corner.

Hiking at Winter River

It was only 6C but deep in the woods at Winter River we weren’t cold at all.

Miscouche to Northam on The Confederation Trail

I managed to leave my GoPro mount at home so hand held filming produced some interesting results. Excuse the director’s occasional glimpses of the film maker! Another mild October day so I decided on the spur of the moment to drive to Miscouche and ride my bike westwards from there, picking up the Trail where I had left off last week. The Trail runs dead straight for the first 10 km and so was somewhat bland to ride. However on turning north the fall colours shone all around. A stiff wind caused the outward leg to take one hour fifteen minutes but nudged me back in just one hour.

Kensington to Miscouche

 

Taking advantage of a sunny mid-October day I drove to Kensington and set off westwards on the Confederation Trail. This is a new section for me although I know the nearby roads well enough. The Trail follows Route 2 past the ubiquitous potato processing plants, smelling of oven-ready French fries until it dives across Route 2 and heads south west into Summerside.

After briefly reaching the harbour it veers inland again and takes a bee line through residential roads, cutting across junctions and making for an interesting ride. Leaving Summerside behind I pedaled further west and turned around eventually at Miscouche.

A strong southerly wind gave me a buffeting crosswind for both legs of the ride.

Fredericton to Kinkora

 

Taking advantage of a bright blue October Sunday we took our bikes to Fredericton and picked up The Confederation Trail westwards. We rode to Kinkora and back and thereby completed the central and south eastern arms of the trail meaning we have cycled from the Bridge at Borden Carleton to as far as you can go south east on PEI, Murray Harbour - and back. The weather will soon compel us to stow or bikes for the winter but we will hatch plans for other adventures.

104km Cycle Ride to Kensington and back

 

The Long Ride

 

For some weeks now I have been threatening to do ‘a long ride’. The figure I had in mind was 100km. Susan and I have put in several respectable jaunts of 40-45km but as I had a free weekend last Sunday, I decided to go for the big one.

I could cram a light rain jacket, sandwiches, lip balm, phone and some minor medications in the back pockets of my cycling jersey but wanted to take a couple of extra items. So I fashioned a curious cargo holder out of two cut-down plastic pop bottles, one sliding just inside the other. This contraption fitted in one of the bottle cages on my bike and held full gloves and a gel seat cover (in case).

With my tyres pumped up like granite, GoPro fitted to the handlebar mount, chain and gears cleaned and lubed and a half litre water bottle chilling in the fridge, I set my alarm for 5:30am and slept like a baby. Or I would have done if I hadn’t developed a head cold and sore throat. At the crack of dawn I arose, made coffee and convinced myself my cold was not bad enough to abort my mission.

At 7:00am I checked my pockets for keys, spare GoPro batteries and the previously mentioned accoutrements and carried my bike down three flights. Under a grey sky and with my rear light pulsing deep red, I set my phone’s Strava app to record and pedaled off into the dawn.

Sunday morning at daybreak would be the quietest time to venture onto Route 2 on two wheels hence my early start. At 7:20 I peeled off the Lower Malpeque Road onto the Highway and headed west, trying not to think about the vast distance ahead. My destination and first planned stop was Kensington some 46km away. In my car that is no more than a forty minute blast up hill and down dale. But those hills are a different proposition on a bicycle.

After a couple of minor climbs I hit the trip’s real test, the road up out of Hunter River. You can’t get a run at it as there are inconvenient bridge works and temporary traffic lights in the dip so I dropped steadily through my gears until I had no lower cogs to try. For the cognoscenti the smaller of my two chain rings is 43 and the largest of seven rear cogs is a measly 26. Professional riders in the Alps have friendlier ratios! Nonetheless, and with a perfect Tour de France grimace, I wound my way to the top huffing, puffing, grunting and gasping. My heart was hammering as I crested the rise and swore to the sky.

More hills followed, lots of them, but none as arduous. Every so often I thumbed the record button of my GoPro and shot clips for the record. At Springfield I slowed to change camera batteries and noted that my average speed was a respectable 22kph. After two hours and fourteen minutes I rolled into Kensington and trundled through the old railway station which is now nicely decked out with diners and small boutiques and a pretend platform. A short stretch of track remains as does the hulking mass of an old CN locomotive standing forlorn in a perpetual siding. Passenger trains haven’t run here since 1969 and freight trains not since 1989, hence the fantastic cross-island network of hiking and cycling trails.

After a brief stop to drink water and feast on peanut butter and jam sandwiches I remounted and rolled out of Kensington on The Confederation Trail. Although the return leg would be longer at some 57km I was looking forward to the absence of trucks and cars, and hills. However, all was not rosy; I veered into a stiff headwind which eased periodically to a crosswind as I followed the trail’s meanders.

At times I thought about stopping to install the gel seat cover which I had thoughtfully packed but the padding in my cycling shorts seemed sufficient and I banished any notion of a pit stop. In fact I did not stop again until I reached the 70km mark, somewhere near Fredericton. I sat on a bench and ate one of Susan’s delicious peanut butter and choc-chip cookies, washed down with most of the remaining water. As I refueled, an old man ambled by on a sit-up-and-beg bike with his nose in the air.

I swapped my dying GoPro battery for the third and final replacement, swallowed two Tylenol and swung my leg over my trusty steed. My bike, by the way, is a Raleigh Quadra manufactured in 1986 by Raleigh’s special racing division and not entirely suited to trail riding with its 23mm tyres. Since I acquired it ten years ago I have replaced tyres, tubes, seat, brake pads, chain, rear cogs and gear cables. I have fitted new clip-in pedals, a cycle computer and a miniature seat bag with essential repair tools. Within five minutes I had caught up to the old boy and whooshed past him at better then 30kph.

When I came to edit my video footage a day or so later, I realised just how much talking out loud I had been doing during the final 30km. I was keen for the ride to be over and told the trees, the trail and the sky as much and often. My sit bones were complaining too and my head was stuffed with a cold.

The wind kindly shifted and gave me a helping nudge towards the end. I rolled off the trail and hit the tarmac once more for the last 5k and pedaled into the parking lot of my building with great relief. I pulled out my phone and saved the Strava account of my route which stood at 104 km and 5 hours 14 minutes of moving time. The sting in the tail, as ever, was the need to carry my bike back up three flights before I could close and lock my door on a most eventful day.

Colville Road to Fredericton

 A cold and windy 36k ride on the Confederation Trail under deceptively bright and sunny skies.

Charlottetown to Mount Herbert

To connect the east and west arms of our cycling trek across the southern portion of PEI we rode from my home in Charlottetown to Mount Herbert. Using roads meant we had serious hills to contend with and a wind which gusted from various directions; always from the front according to Susan!

A short film of our recent camping and hiking exploits.

Camping in Nova Scotia

Taking advantage of the ‘Atlantic Bubble’ we took a three day break to Nova Scotia with a car full of camping gear. Online registration was a breeze and passing through the New Brunswick and Nova Scotia checkpoints was equally so. We made our customary stop for brunch at the Irving Big Stop in Aulac and motored south towards Halifax.

After three and a half hours we reached King Neptune Campground at Indian Harbour. We selected the same pitch as last year and were fully set up in forty-five minutes. The camp site is simple but pleasant and mostly stacked with RVs and trailers. We were one of only half a dozen tenters.

The weather was hot and humid by day and rather chilly by night, ranging from 25C to 12C across three days. As is our custom we scrambled all across the several kilometres of granite coastline around Polly Cove and several hours of exertion and blazing sun set us up nicely for a campfire and an early night.

We lit great fires each night and watched the setting sun turn the sky shades of yellow and orange. With zero light pollution the starry night was spectacular and made getting up to answer the call of nature in the small hours an event! Sometimes during the night hours we heard a deep reverberating blast way off in the distance, not unlike a snore but coming about once a second. We pondered the possible origins and were fascinated to learn from our local friend Mimmi Henriksen that we were hearing dolphins blowing as they swam through feeding grounds.

We took a hike across the Peggy’s Cove site too and shook our heads at those edging way too close to the surging water by the treacherous black rocks. The lighthouse is a great sight but one we probably didn’t need to see on a busy Labour Day weekend when visitors were out in force. Much more satisfying was our hike on the trails near West Dover, a short drive east. From one peak in the hills we could see right out to sea. Inland there were spectacular residences cut into granite slopes, one with a seaplane moored alongside.

All too soon our adventure drew to a close and as we made breakfast on our final morning we surveyed the site to find only four pitches out of sixty-five remained occupied; a mass exodus had taken place after the holiday weekend and in time for the first day of school, resuming after a six month break.

A Weekend in the Bubble

As the four Maritime Provinces of Canada (Prince Edward Island, Nova Scotia, New Brunswick and Newfoundland and Labrador have commendably low COVID19 infection rates (PEI has no current cases) it was decided by mutual consent to open the borders between these Provinces and thereby allow short breaks, visits to relatives, shopping and other trips.

We registered online and received our authorization passes by return email. On Sunday morning we drove to the Confederation Bridge, paid our toll, and drove the 13 kilometers across to New Brunswick. Normally you roll off the bridge at cruising speeds and continue to your destination but this time a slight diversion took us past a small police presence where we waved through without even having to show our passes. Fair enough, we must have looked safe! The heat was intense - 32C and feeling like 38c with the humidity.

After a couple of hours driving we reached Moncton and stopped at Costco with a smart shopping list. Masks were recommended but not compulsory so we took a cart and navigated the almost empty zig-zag queueing system into the deliciously cool store. It's umpteen hundreds of thousands of square feet are piled high with industrial sized packs of everything imaginable. We stocked up on paper towels, bagels, cheese and various other items, in bulk.

A visit to Value Village and then we were heading back north. Before we reached the bridge we stopped for ice creams and when almost home we called ahead for a take out curry.

On Monday morning, a Public Holiday here, we set off for Stratford in the car with the bikes on board. Parking at Mount Herbert we picked up the Confederation Trail south and east and rode for 31 kilometers to Lake Verde and back. The humidity was high and the sky mostly overcast with a strong crosswind, there and back.

Somehow amid all that we found time to fit in three episodes of the Handmaid's Tale, Season 3, and two movies: Doctor Sleep and Joker.

Sunday Biking

The Rise and Fall of Musical Styles

I love these presentations by Data is Beautiful, they really show the staggering significance of things we feel we already know. Country and then Jazz soared in the teens and twenties; fast forward to 1955 and the arrival of rock 'n' roll swept all else aside in a matter of months. And how quickly styles are dropped like hot bricks, no gradual decline for the likes of ragtime, which fell like a stone in the mid-forties.

It's worth mentioning that whatever is currently in vogue is considered pop, hence no catch-all category for that. I am somewhat surprised by the tenacity of Techno but this is an American study, hence the mumbling/swearing/angry chart topper of the past decade.

People like what they like and, as in all life, a favoured minority style cannot be artificially boosted.

Outdoor Activities

Weekend movies and cycling

‘Blinded by the Light’, based on real events, is at heart a coming of age story. Javed, a Pakistani teenager, lives with his controlling father and obedient mother in Luton, North London. We meet him in 1987 as a high-schooler attempting to stay afloat on the high seas of family expectations, the lure of western music, vicious racism and girls.

His passion for writing poetry and a chance introduction to the music and lyrics of The Boss lead to an awakening of the soul and inevitable conflict with his father’s rigid ideology. Jared has formed a close relationship with an English girl and is torn between his cultural roots and the freedom and excitement of the west. Boiling point is reached when Jared wins a writing competition and insists on travelling to New Jersey (Springsteen’s birth place) to pick up his award and his father tells him not to come back.

Happy endings abound when the two reconcile after Jared gives a heartfelt speech at a school event revealing that he has ample space for both his new lifestyle and his South Asian roots. The film shows the beauty of music and love against a backdrop of ugly racism, demonstrating how an immigrant boy can learn to embrace a new culture yet remain loyal to his origins.

‘The Legend of Tarzan’; not our typical film fare but, intrigued by the trailer, we gave this a go and soon found ourselves immersed deep in the African Congo admiring the lush jungle and its wholly credible CGI beasts. The old Edgar Rice Burrows creation is retold with a nice mix of reverent fidelity and exciting action scenes. To help those unfamiliar with the tale, Tarzan’s upbringing by apes and subsequent return to a life of British gentry is shown in neat flashbacks.

In short, the thrust of the plot is Tarzan freeing Congolese men from the grip of slavery under Belgian King Leopold; an apt theme for the times we live in. Naturally our man gets separated from his feisty wife Jane but manages not only to unchain the slaves but to rescue his mate from the jaws of death.

A British emissary sent to the Congo as Tarzan’s sidekick provides some fun with self-effacing humour and Jane is played superbly by Margot Robbie. If there’s a weak point it’s perhaps the great man himself. While he looks the part, all chiselled abs and flowing locks, his demeanour is low key. Nonetheless he impresses with much effortless swinging through tall trees and wonderful relationships with the jungle animals.

           

Cycling has become our latest weekend activity. We ride on quiet, Sunday morning roads to reach the Confederation Trail where we can start loops around and through Charlottetown, steadily increasing our range. This time we reached the centre of town where the Trail ends. Nearby is the former Railway Station building, now home to the Workers’ Compensation Board of Prince Edward Island, while at Peakes Quay the former engine sheds now house a series of diners and cafes.

We spun through a deserted downtown and out to Victoria Park where a bike lane takes you past the harbour and on to sleepy residential roads. Soon we were back on main roads for a fast downhill coast on North River Road to Ellen’s Creek then a sharp uphill effort and we were home, 26kms under our belts.

Visitors to my balcony and beyond

Signs of the times