The beautiful city of Budapest was my latest photography destination as I spent a few days there at the end of March. The city is a fascinating one for photography with its many remarkable buildings and a succession of bridges across the Danube which winds its way through the middle of the city, separating the old settlements of Buda and Pest. The city is perhaps at its best during night time as almost all the main attractions are illuminated, making for a spectacular view. The parliament building, the largest actively used state parliament in Europe, is a particular favourite of mine and I hoped to get some good shots of it during this trip. On the day of my arrival I was hoping to photograph the interior of the parliament but the tickets were sold out for that day so instead I headed to the nearby St Stephen's Basilica. After recent trips to Prague and Riga I have started to enjoy visiting the grand old churches that can be found in many cities and photographing their interiors, usually with a wide angle lens (my 12-24mm lens seems ideal for this). Appropriately, this kind of photography often involves pointing the camera to the heavens in order to capture the patterns of high ceilings or cupolas. The churches in Budapest seemed to be very rich and ornate in their details, not only in the main central spaces but also in all the alcoves and secondary areas, which made them extremely rewarding to photograph. On the Buda side of the river the terrain rises steeply and there you can find the huge castle, the beautiful Matthias church and the remarkable neo-gothic battlements of the Fishermans Bastion. At the foot of the castle hill lies the castle gardens and the buildings of the Várkert bazár and thanks to some advice from a friend I was able to find another staircase to add to my collection (after the lightbulb staircase in Prague and the art nouveau staircase in Riga). Budapest has many beautiful staircases but usually they are in private buildings so they are not easily accessible, the one in the Várkert bazár however is in regular public use and it resembles an eye when photographed from the right angle. I usually try to make my photographs mostly in the camera rather than in the computer but in this case the staircase seemed to offer possibilities that were too good to ignore... the staircase looks like an eye, but eyes usually come in pairs, so it seemed inevitable that I should play with that. On a rainy day later in the trip I may have had a little bit too much time on my hands as the family of staircase creatures started to grow... At the end of that first evening I took a walk along the river at night and decided that the Chain Bridge was my favourite of the many interesting bridges across the Danube. I almost always travel alone on these photography trips but this time I had made plans to meet up and shoot with a couple of photographer friends who I have got to know online over the past 5-6 months, Robert Juvet and Gergő Bakos (provider of excellent staircase advice from the day before), both of whom have been very successful in the photography competitions on GuruShots, winning many times over the past year. Robert was visiting Hungary from his home in Switzerland while Gergő is a native of Budapest and we spent about 12 hours of the second day of my trip shooting together in the Budapest area. Our first destination was the Medveotthon Bear Sanctuary where we had a chance to photograph bears, wolves, lynx and some smaller mammals. This sanctuary provides a comfortable and protected environment for animals who have been released from their former duties in circuses or evicted from their homes in zoos around Europe. The animals are not free to roam the countryside, but they are given a relatively large area with suitable terrain in which to spend their days. To me the animals all looked well taken care of and content... if a little bit bored. Although the bears and wolves were the headline acts, some of the smaller animals were a great support act, it was fun to watch a cute coati climbing up to the top branches of a tree to play. The weather was sunny and mild at this part of the day and the bears were lazing around to take advantage of this. The bear above looked like he might have already breathed his last breath but shortly afterwards he perked up and started doing some yoga :) The interesting looking long horned Hungarian Grey cattle were the final attraction on this part of the visit. After Medveotthon we visited a traditional Hungarian restaurant for some delicious lunch on our way to a place where there were a number of old military aircraft and helicopters gently falling apart in a field. This was an extremely interesting place, when it came to photographing it I found the most inspiration when concentrating on smaller details rather than trying to photograph entire aircraft. As the sun began to set we made for our final destination, heading back to Budapest to shoot the city lights from the top of the hill at Citadella. This vantage point offers great panoramic views to many directions. My favourite view from the Citadella hill was of the castle and the Matthias church with the suburbs of Budapest on the hill behind. Over the past few months I have spent quite a bit of time exchanging ideas with Rob and Gergő and being finally able to get them and spend the day shooting with them was a special and memorable occasion and definitely the highlight of the trip for me. Gergő has been particularly helpful to me as I have tried to improve my skills in editing my pictures and I have appreciated that a lot while Rob and I seem to find interest and inspiration in similar places, often shooting in the mountains when possible. This was a successful meeting and I hope we can meet again. On the following day Gergő had to return to work but I spent a few hours with Rob and his family as we visited Visegrad castle and then the Esztergom Basilica, from where you can get a clear view across the Danube to neighbouring Slovakia. I would particularly like to thank Rob and his family for being such generous hosts, picking me up from my hotel and driving me around on both days despite the horrendous Budapest traffic. After saying my farewells and thank-yous to the Juvet family my attention turned once again to the Parliament building. I booked a place on a tour of the interior for the following morning and went walking to try and see if I could find good angles to combine the parliament with one of the bridges. The following morning my tour of the parliament started at 0815. As far as I could find out this was the only way to view the interior of the building, accompanied by about 60 other people (two guided tours at the same time, one in English and one in French on this occasion). This 45 minute tour gave some great information and took in some of the most interesting parts of the building but was something of a challenge from photography point of view due to the concentration of human beings in each area. The dome room, where the Hungarian crown is kept, would be a particularly beautiful place for pictures (the ceiling is spectacular) but all photography is forbidden in that room. The grand staircase is truly an imposing sight and would make a great first impression for anyone entering by this route. From there we continued via the impressive dome room to view one of the parliament chambers. Originally the Hungarian parliament was a bi-cameral system and the building contains two identically sized chambers for debating and voting. Nowadays there is only a single parliamentary house and the other chamber is used for meetings and other parliamentary business. On this kind of tour you quickly learn to try and get to each destination first, or leave last, or both, in order to get some chance for a photo before the crowd arrives. I found some opportunities initially by shooting from the crowd above people's heads but people tend to learn quickly so after a few seconds the people in front would also be taking pictures at arms length above their heads... so I would have multiple smartphones in any picture I tried to take. After breakfast I had 3-4 hours before I should go to the airport. The weather was pretty miserable so I had to look for indoor photography opportunities. I decided to go to the Matthias church and see how that looked inside. This was a good idea. This church, on the hill near to the castle on the Buda side of the river, is very beautiful on the outside, but the inside is even better. The rich colours, ornate decorations and beautiful designs in every part of the building make it a superb photography destination. In this church the beauty was more than skin deep, even side passages and corridors were elaborately decorated. As the rain poured down outside I spent a happy hour in this great place. Although this was a short trip it was a really good one. Budapest is an excellent destination for photography and it could have held my interest for many more days, I have to return one day. Thanks again to Rob and Gergő for good company on this trip. Until next time, Andy
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Earlier this month, during my trip to the west of Iceland, one great highlight was a whale watching boat trip, organised by Laki Tours, in the waters of the North Atlantic off the Snaefellsness peninsula. After some extreme weather caused a postponement, the trip was rescheduled to the final day of my time in Iceland and was also moved from Grundarfjörður to Olafsvik in order to be closer to the most recent sightings of whales. There seemed to be about 50 other people gathering for this trip at the appointed time and place, one by one our names were checked and we were given a weatherproof all-in-one suit to wear for the voyage. I wondered whether I would need this seeing as I was already wearing more layers than ever before.... but at the prospect of being in the open air on the open ocean for a few hours in winter conditions I decided just to put the suit on top of what I already had. Good decision. After we boarded the boat, it was time to choose where to stand. As I was hoping to take pictures of any whales that we might see I wanted to try and have a good vantage point that would be as free as possible of people so that I could be a bit flexible in my own position. Based on this guesswork, and an assumption that the whales could appear in any direction at any time, I decided to start off at the back of the boat on the lower level... which was deserted compared to the forward sections of the boat. Luckily this day was the calmest and clearest of my seven day spent in Iceland... but there was still a pretty strong wind. This was just right to allow the many sea birds in the area to either position themselves against the wind and hover motionless without effort... or fly with the wind at their back and achieve remarkable speed. As we made our way from Olafsvik, heading west in a line roughly parallel to the shoreline of the Snaefellsness peninsula but a couple of miles offshore, the sea quickly imposed its own rhythm on the boat. For those, like myself, who have not spent a great deal of time on boats, the rolling and heaving might take a little while to get used to... but after a few minutes it became a lot easier to deal with. This was however the North Atlantic and it was most important to have something to hold on to if you were to remain upright and onboard (both of which seemed like a good idea). The guides for our trip kept us well informed at all times, using the PA system of the boat to firstly explain what we were doing and where we were going, then to indicate the location of any sightings (using points of the clock relative to the boat - e.g. "killer whales at 3 o'clock") and also to provide great information about the animals we were seeing and points of interest on the shoreline that we were passing. The guides showed real knowledge and expertise, they were scientists and conservationists rather than tour guides and that made a big positive difference to the experience. It was not long before the first killer whales were sighted, at 12 o clock... not much use for me at the back of the boat... and at 6 o'clock - now we are in business. The first sight of these amazing animals was a great moment... but it immediately became clear that this was not going to be easy from photography point of view. I am very used to fast moving and unpredictable targets, birds provide a great example of that kind of challenge... but when you are photographing birds you usually have the option of remaining still while trying to follow them. In this case the boat was generally moving in a certain direction, but rolling and heaving to a greater or lesser extent while doing so. The sea was also moving significantly, the waves easily high enough to conceal a fin or a tail for a second or two. The whales themselves also move, and spend the majority of the time underwater... which of course renders them invisible. Finally the photographer is also moving, trying to compensate for the motions of the ship and maintain a view of the expected whale location. Luckily, the whale sightings were regular and frequent. Possibly 20 or 30 occasions in total during the 3 hour trip although not all of those were visible from all parts of the boat. This allowed for some practice and a chance to try and refine the ideas of how to photograph them. An additional challenge was the randomness of where they would appear. They could be 100m away... or suddenly appear 10-15m away. For this a zoom lens was a real benefit so that you could adapt to the situation. I used a 100-400mm lens but if I was doing it again I think that a 70-200mm f4 might be a good choice. With longer focal lengths the motion of the ocean and the movement of the whales made it extremely hard to keep the target in the frame... especially when it was necessary to hold on to the boat with one hand. A 70-200 f4 would still give some reach and some flexibility while being a little bit smaller and lighter, all of which would be helpful in keeping the target in the frame. Next, we had a great positive surprise, a sperm whale had been sighted - the first one of the season. Our guide was most excited by this and told us what to expect, a big breath and then the flukes raised high into the air as it dived for the depths. I positioned myself and watched... following the whale with my right eye through the viewfinder and the other eye directly. I heard the guide commentating on the event, I saw it with my left eye... and watched with horror through the viewfinder as the motion of the boat positioned someone else between my camera and the whale at just the wrong moment. My left eye saw the iconic sight of the mighty tail above the water... my right eye saw the camera taking an out of focus picture of the jacket of the person in front of me. At this point some descriptive words expressing a hint of disappointment may have escaped my lips but I shall not record those here. There was no time for remorse... the action was happening thick and fast... a killer whale was following us. Now I could certainly say I had pictures of killer whales... but what I wanted was good pictures of killer whales. I tried to evaluate what that would be now that I understood the possibilities a bit better. There were two things coming to my mind, firstly I wanted to see the head of the whale... not just the fin, not just the tail... the head. This was a bit tricky because you have to be shooting at the time the whale breaks the surface, not reacting after the event... and up until that instant they are almost completely invisible. The second thing that came to my mind was to find an opportunity to capture whales with a bit of a wider view, showing the mainland and the snow covered mountains in the background. That was a less demanding shot... but required the right angle to avoid the harsh sunlight and also required a cooperative whale. The experience of seeing these animals continued to be awesome while the perfect pictures continued to be elusive... fin, tail, out of focus, out of frame, fin... I started to question whether these particular whales actually had heads. At last... a whale with a head! Then I found a new difficulty :) I spotted a killer whale a fraction of a second before it emerged, it was close enough, I did my part with the camera, I got a shot.... and realised that the splashes of water that accompanied its emergence would prevent the whale's head from being visible... but now at least I had a picture with a blowhole visible. This was the closest I got to a good picture. I think that it would be easier a second time, and with a combination of skill and luck it would be possible to get some fantastic pictures from these trips, but it is far from easy. The scenery on the shore was quite beautiful as we made our way back to Olafsvik. It was not the first occasion on this trip that I saw a church in the middle of nowhere at the foot of spectacular mountains... and it would not be the last. Throughout our journey, the sea birds were flying happily overhead. I find identifying gulls to be very confusing as there are many different kinds and they change their look more than once on their way from juvenile to adult, inconveniently resembling other species at other stages. So... I am ready to be corrected in my identification attempts for the following individuals. Overall this trip was a breathtaking experience. It was simply fantastic to be out in the Atlantic with these beautiful animals in their natural environment. The Laki Tours guides, with their obvious expertise and genuine affection for the whales made a great contribution to the experience and I think they made it as accessible as possible for all participants. I cannot recommend this highly enough, if you have the chance to go on one of these tours then be sure to grab it with both hands... or on second thoughts you should leave one hand free to hold on to the boat... but you know what I mean. Until next time, Andy The second part of my West Iceland trip was focused on photographing the iconic Kirkjufell mountain and my base for three nights was the town of Grundarfjörður, only a 5 minute drive from Kirkjufell. I had also booked a whale watching boat trip with Laki tours which I hoped would allow me to photograph killer whales. I allowed myself multiple days to ensure that I had a chance for different weather conditions and hopefully some auroras or starscapes at the iconic location, but I also had thoughts of driving north to see the cool rock formations at Hvítserkur if I had time to spare. As I write this it still sounds like it was a good plan. Upon arriving at Kirkjufell for the first time I felt... nothing much. I have visited many places where the experience of being there is amazing, but it is difficult to find a photographic composition that captures the feeling. For me Kirkjufell is the opposite. The Kirkjufellsfoss waterfall and the Kirkjufell mountain provide possibilities for a great looking photograph, but in real life the place just did not speak to me. The waterfalls, with the mountain peak in the background make for a compact and well balanced frame with around 25mm focal length. With a wider lens and a slight change of angle it is possible to make room for stars or auroras. When approaching the place from the west you can see that the mountain which looks so symmetrically shaped from a certain angle, is nothing of the sort from most other angles. I had been looking for many kilometres to try and get the first glimpse of the mountain... turns out I had seen it all along and disregarded it as one of the "normal" mountains. The waterfalls are in two groups, one slightly higher up the hillside and one slightly lower. From the famous pictures you get the impression that they are large and close to the mountain. In reality the scene is not so compact... the waterfalls are small and far away from the foot of the mountain - there is maybe 400-500m in-between. This is quite possible to solve from a photography point of view with the right choice of focal length, angle and perspective... but it left me a bit disappointed visiting in real life. At Kirkjufell I was ready for photographing the scene in clear conditions, and I was ready for photographing the scene in icy and snowy conditions... but what greeted me was an ugly mixture. The waterfalls were iced over to a grotesque level... the water still flows despite the ice so it was just adding layer after layer of ice on top of each other. It sounds cool... but it looked stupid. The mountain was clear of snow but there were old patches of dirty snow here and there through the scene. The magic of post processing can deal with those to some extent but still the scene was quite messy. The weather was also unpleasant. Hmmm. I retreated to my accommodation and checked out where I would have to be for my whale watching trip the following day, that now took on the role of the thing I was looking forward to most. The weather was closing in and a storm was coming... that is sometimes very good news from photography point of view, depending on whether the conditions provide visible drama or just provide darkness and reduced visibility. On this occasion the storm provided nothing positive. The sunset time was obliterated, and so was the sunrise as very heavy winds and constant snow took control of the area. Visibility was about 75 metres and there were thigh-deep snow drifts here and there with other patches totally clear. My car was blocked in by a snow drift so I left on foot and fought my way to Cafe Emil (great coffee and home made cakes) in the middle of town for my morning coffee. The walk was about 400m, during which time I saw three cars being pulled out of snow drifts by vehicles which I can only describe as monster trucks. I could see no sense in driving in these conditions and decided to wait out the storm, looking rather enviously at great auroras and clear starry skies in the previous night's pictures from one of my friends who was in the south of Iceland at the same time. As the morning progressed there were a number of new arrivals in the cafe. They were all wondering what had happened and I was able to understand from their conversations that the storm was very local... a few kilometres in either direction and things looked quite different. After lunchtime the visibility improved a bit and, having extricated my car, I went back to Kirkjufell where the scene was quite different than the day before, but still not exactly beautiful. The high winds and minimal visibility had unsurprisingly caused the cancellation of my whale watching trip, I rebooked it for two days later, the last full day of my trip, so I really had to hope for no further weather disruptions. As evening fell, the weather calmed down a lot, and started to clear. I was finishing a rather good pizza at 59 Bistro Bar in the town when the aurora app on my phone alerted me to the northern lights possibilities for the evening and I was soon on my way back to Kirkjufell. I arrived at the empty car park and made my way towards the waterfalls. Although the car park was empty I could not be sure that there would not be other photographers in the area so I slowly made my way up the icy trail without using my torch... a torch beam walking through your picture without your control is a total disaster for 90% of night photographs and the last 200m of the trail would be in the frame of anyone shooting the mountain at night. As it happened I was alone when I got to my position, but I set myself up in the dark, having learned to operate my equipment in darkness for just such a situation. -- complaints section: skip ahead if you rather not read them -- Then it started. Headlights in the car park 400m away... shining into the scene... left on for many minutes. Then, one by one, other photographers made their way up the trail. Torches on full beam, shining here there and everywhere. More headlights, more torches. Perhaps 20 people in total, but one at a time or in small groups. Gradually they arrived beside me. Torches to find the way. Torches to set up their tripod. Torches to change their camera settings. Torches left on the ground shining into the scene while they mess around and talk to each other. Torches to my direction to see who was there (blinded!). The initial fuss took nearly half an hour, which felt like half a day to me... after that it was only occasional as someone needed to change their settings. I was not amused. If you allow your eyes to get used to the dark and know your equipment you can function perfectly well in real darkness and not interfere with anyone else. If you have to briefly use a light then most lights have lower settings that can be used and also you can direct the beam in a way which doesn't disturb others. If there are some other people out at night causing a lot of light then thats one thing, but you would hope that other photographers might have some understanding of the consequences of their actions and act with a bit more consideration. -- end of complaints section -- Eventually it was possible to take some pictures, but the northern lights were quite weak by that time and the clouds were coming and going. On the way back to the hotel I tried to capture the auroras from the other popular Kirkjufell view, it looks almost like a sharks fin when viewed from the other side of the bay. The following day provided a fresh start. After cloudy beginnings the weather became pleasant and sunny although still violently windy. The storm and the rearrangement of the whale watching had put an end to my ideas of traveling north to Hvítserkur but I felt like I could safely explore a bit closer to my accommodation. I drove to Stykkishólmur where there is an interesting (but maybe not attractive) modern church in a nice little village. I then decided to drive towards Ytri Tunga, a beach where there was a good chance to see seals, this having been recommended to me by the staff in Fosshotel Hellnar earlier in the trip. The weather was still bright and sunny but it had started to snow lightly and visibility was a bit difficult when the air was full of snow and the sun was in your eyes. The road conditions were still fine so I continued on my journey. When I arrived at Ytri Tunga, noting a car stuck in the snow near the car park and choosing my parking place carefully, it was indeed possible to see seals playing in the surf. Unfortunately the only angle to photograph them was strongly backlit which was not ideal... but it was fun to watch them for a while. By now the conditions started to be a bit more extreme, the wind increased again and the snow was beginning to fall more heavily. I thought it wise to head for home. One of the hazards of traveling in such an extreme but unfamiliar destination is that you can't always tell which routes to avoid. The shortest way back to Grundarfjörður meant taking highway 54 to Olafsvik so I set off on that route, encouraged by the sight of the occasional other vehicles taking the same route. This was not a good idea. The road conditions became steadily worse as I continued, and I considered turning back, but there was a lot of snow and no places to turn. I could see that there was just a couple more kilometres to go so I decided to continue. As I came round a bend there was a sudden white out, the wind-blown snow and the low sun cutting the visibility to about 15m. I could still see the tall yellow poles at the side of the road so I followed those, I did not brake but I stopped accelerating, controlled a loss of traction pretty well and stayed perfectly in my lane while my car ploughed gently to a stop in the 85cm of snow that had blown in a large drift across about a 10 metre stretch of highway. Stuck. I could not move forward. I could not move back. Hazard lights on. Laugh at myself while feeling mortified that I had become one of those idiot tourists. Become somewhat concerned about my situation and start to put my thoughts in order. It was about 45 seconds before a snowplough pulled alongside and the driver explained how he was going to pull me out. Clear snow from the front of the car. Find and uncover the recovery point. Find the hook in a tool set near the spare tyre. Attach hook to recovery point. Attach tow rope. Engine in neutral. Back to clear road. Remove rope, remove hook, cover recovery point. Thank my rescuer... many many times. I would like to thank my rescuer once again here. What he did was hugely helpful, but the way he did it was also very impressive. He was friendly, patient, efficient and did not seem irritated in the slightest. He told me, with a smile, that he had already pulled out many tens of cars during that day, and by the time I was free there were three more cars within 100m waiting their turn for rescue. I imagine he dealt with those just as helpfully and efficiently. The rest of the return to Grundarfjörður was comparatively uneventful, which was fine by me. Somewhat reluctant to repeat the circus from the night before, I studied the weather forecasts. I decided to skip the evening session and forget the sunrise, hoping that I could get good conditions and some peace and quiet by going to Kirkjufell at 0400 the next morning. That would allow me about 90 minutes during the full night and the astronomical twilight where it would be optimal conditions for shooting any auroras or starscapes... with any luck no other idiot would be foolish enough to choose to shoot at this ungodly hour instead of in the equivalent light of the evening. In something of a change of fortunes, this was a good decision :) The sky was at least partly clear, some wispy clouds came and went. There were noticeable but not dramatic auroras. There were an incredible amount of stars... and it was possible to see the tail of the Milky Way. There were many good elements to play with. As the astronomical twilight (the period when the sun is between 12 and 18 degrees below the horizon) progressed, the auroras faded away, but the clouds also thinned and it was possible to see the Milky Way more clearly. When I look through the photos that I took during this period, I can see that it is not a universally good idea to get up in the middle of the night after many consecutive days with insufficient sleep. I don't think I was thinking as clearly as I could have when it comes to composing my shots and if I was to be critical then I feel a little bit like I have baked some premium ingredients (i.e. kirkjufell + auroras + Milky Way) into a very ordinary cake. After a couple of hours additional sleep I left my accommodation and was returned to something approaching consciousness by the excellent coffee in Cafe Emil. The rest of the day would have two main parts, the first and most exciting would be the whale watching trip while the second was the more tedious prospect of driving for many hours to get somewhere close to Keflavik airport ahead of my return flight in the morning. I think that the whale watching deserves its own blog post, so I will leave details of that for next time. Stay tuned. The wind was still quite heavy, the road conditions were questionable, and I would have to do much of the driving in the dark, so I tried to limit my stops on the return journey as much as possible. I tried to time it so that I could take a final look at the black church in Búðir at around sunset time. The snow over the previous days had given a new look to the area and it was nice to be there again... despite the three drones zipping about over my head as I tried to take some final pictures. As I arrived there the afternoon sun was leaving its final marks on the snow covered mountains and the white covering gave the place a peaceful look. The combination of the heavy winds and the plentiful snow meant that there were many wind-sculpted snow dunes in the area and for my final picture of the trip I tried to make use of those. Overall, this trip was absolutely fantastic. Iceland is an amazing place to be and provides wonders around every corner, it was great to be there once again. It is not, however, an easy place to be when the weather is harsh and I felt like every day was a battle against something or other. It was tough. From photography point of view it is a great challenge, and one that I am happy to have taken although I consider the results to be a bit of a mixture - some successes and some disappointments. Thanks for following my blog. Until next time. Andy Last week I made my second visit to Iceland, and once again it seemed like my flight had managed to land on a different planet - it is such an extreme and other-worldly experience to spend time in that country. As this trip was a bit longer I will split my field report into multiple blog posts. My previous visit had taken me along the whole south coast of Iceland, this time I decided to concentrate on West Iceland and the Snaefellsness peninsula. My resting place on the first evening was near to the port of Akranes but I decided to take the scenic route from the airport, driving through Þingvellir national park and visiting the beautiful Bruarfoss waterfall. Bruarfoss might be the smallest waterfall I have visited in Iceland, but it may also be the most beautiful. The glacial waters have an amazing colour and the river takes a nice winding course via a couple of pools just after the falls. It was also slightly difficult to find... but it was worth some extra effort and I got there eventually. From Bruarfoss I continued a short distance further inland to visit the thermal area at Haukadalur where there are many active vents, including Geysir - the first widely known example of its kind, responsibile for contributing the word geyser to the English language. These days Geysir is active only intermittently while it's near neighbour Strokkur is much more reliable, spouting water and steam 30m into the air every few minutes. This was an area that was amazing to witness, and to smell, but not really to photograph - the surrounding terrain was a bit of a muddy mess and there were hundreds of people in the way. I continued to Akranes where I watched the sunset near the old and new lighthouses. I had understood that there should be an old abandoned boat in a slipway near to the harbour in Akranes and I planned to try and photograph that the following morning... but having explored where I thought it should be, and a few other places as well, I could not find it. Luckily the port was an interesting subject without the abandoned boat and the still waters made for nice reflections in the hours before sunrise. After my night in Akranes I again took a detour inland on my way up the west coast. Repeating the formula from the day before I headed for the waterfalls of Hraunfossar and Barnafoss (a hundred metres apart - very convenient). These waterfalls were both fascinating to look at, but when it came to photographing them I did not find inspiration easily. One problem was the light which was too harsh and direct but the other people at the location were perhaps more of an impediment to me. There were some areas that were fenced off, with many signs asking people to stay behind the fences to protect the vegetation that was holding the riverbank together. I can admit that I have sometimes disregarded such boundaries where doing so involved minor trespassing or minor danger, but in this case I thought that the signs made a sensible request and I decided to respect them even though that meant giving up the best shooting positions. Other photographers had made a different judgement and the protected area was full of people... which, as well as being a bit stupid and disrespectful in my opinion, also meant that they were blocking out the view for anyone trying to observe or photograph from the permitted area. In the end these obstacles worked to my advantage as I looked for alternative compositions in the area. About 40-50m upstream from the main torrents at Barnafoss I spotted an area where there was a rapid flow of glacial water framed by volcanic basalt and decorated by icicles. A long lens allowed me to capture an other-worldly shot which was quite different and unique despite standing at a popular place surrounded by photographers and selfie-hunters who were all taking the same shots that thousands had taken before. My next port of call was at Deildartunguhver, another thermal area, this one harnessed for the benefit of the Icelandic population. Boiling water emerges from the depths at a rate of about 180 litres per second and this provides hot water and central heating for most of the houses within a 65km radius. The 64km hot water pipe to Akranes is the longest in Iceland and the water is still about 80 degrees celsius when it arrives at the other end. After returning to the coast the scenery was quite beautiful on the drive towards the Snaefellsness peninsula. It is actually a "big problem" from photography point of view because if you stopped every time you got fascinated by the view you could only cover about 10km in 24 hours. When visiting a new part of the country it is extremely difficult to know whether it is a good idea to try and find a place to stop and walk back to shoot. The amazing photos that you imagine from a fast moving car are often illusions, your brain is remarkable in its ability to edit out obstructions and distractions in real time but the camera is not so clever, every power line, bush and rock is fully visible in the photo when you return to the spot. It is very often (but not always) the case that when you stop you end up disappointed and also late for your real destination... and it is also very often the case that you end up full of "maybe I should have..." thoughts any time you don't stop. I have struggled with this on every kilometre of both my Iceland trips. Eventually, after regretting multiple stops and multiple non-stops, I made it to my next highlight - the black church at Búðir. This tiny church, in the middle of nowhere, in the shadow of mountains and glaciers, was maybe my favourite destination of the trip. I scouted it out as well as I could before continuing to my accommodation at the Fosshotel in Hellnar. Normally on my Iceland trips the accommodation has been functional and basic but this was a number of steps up from that without a corresponding step up in price, and it also has a nice restaurant. I highly recommend staying here if you are in the area. After dinner I did some scouting of the nearby attractions and realised I was rather exhausted... I decided to get some sleep, but first I thought to check that the aurora forecast (which did not look encouraging) was correct. Any time there is a chance to photograph auroras that takes priority over sleep... so I drove the twenty something kilometres back to Búðir. The little black church is unfortunately (from photography point of view) rather harshly illuminated at night, creating a massive difference in brightness within any scene. Some other photographers had the good idea to cover the main light with a towel which mitigated the problem slightly... and they also had the less good idea of continuously waving their torches around in order to see well enough to adjust their camera settings. It does not take much unwanted light to completely ruin an exposure. After an insufficient amount of sleep it was time to go back to Búðir once again... this time for the sunrise. As usual it is the time before the sun appears which is the most interesting, the colours are often quite magnificent and the soft tones are a lot easier to capture than the harsh light and shadows that dominate after the sun makes its entrance. The area near Hellnar has some beautiful cliffs and beaches, as well as a lighthouse. My plan was to try and add some good seascapes to my portfolio. I am often drawn to that kind of scenery, and very much like other people's seascape pictures, but my own efforts have never been quite as good as I would hope. At Londrangar there is a good vantage point and a spectacular view over the vertical cliffs, full of nesting gulls... but the composition would benefit greatly from taking 5 steps to the left. Any attempt to do so would not be that wise as the 50m drop to certain death in the Atlantic would rather disrupt your photography session. A drone would be helpful in this situation... but I would like to resist that temptation, I find the constant buzzing of other peoples drones rather irritating and it is an increasingly regular phenomenon at all places of photographic interest, it really takes you (and everyone else) out of the peaceful beauty of a location. Maybe when they are completely silent and one quarter of their current size I can think again. A short trip around the coast from Hellnar you can find the black sand beach at Djúpalónssandur. As is often the case in Iceland, the prospect of imminent death is waiting for you at this attraction, and you enter at your own risk. In this case the peril is provided by "sneaker waves" as it is in the beaches near to Vik in the south. The beach slopes gently down to the shore, but just beyond the shore it drops off rapidly, creating conditions that are just right for occasional waves to come 15 or 20 metres further up the beach than the waves coming before or after. If you are swept out by one of these sneakers, you will not make it back. As if this danger was not enough, the beach is also guarded by a fearsome Troll woman :) The beach itself is beautiful as well as deadly, a typical Icelandic black sand and black pebble beach with interesting volcanic rock formations. Having survived the deadly beach it was time to make my way towards the second part of my trip which I would spend in Grundarfjörður near to the iconic Kirkjufell mountain. The journey from Hellnar to Grundarfjörður would take a little over an hour if you managed to drive without stopping... but such things are almost impossible in Iceland so it took me nearly 3 hours. One of the regular features of the scenery in Iceland is the lovely Icelandic horse, my friend Bragi Ingibergsson has many beautiful pictures of these animals and I wanted to get at least something to remember them by from this trip. Besides the horses, another regular feature of the Icelandic scenery is abandoned buildings and machinery in the middle of nowhere. I suppose that the tough conditions will inevitably defeat some of the human settlers and then the low temperatures help to preserve the ruins, such scenes are typical on many of the routes I have driven. My trip reaches its half way point... and I will save the rest for my upcoming posts. Thanks for reading my blog and have a good day! Andy A new destination this time as I took a short family trip to Riga, the capital of the Baltic state of Latvia. Although the flight to Riga is shorter than an hour from (my home airport) Helsinki I had somehow never made the journey before, but it turns out to be a good destination for a city break and and an interesting place for photography. The main point of the trip was to spend some time with my mother, who made the rather more adventurous journey to Riga from the north of Scotland. The city itself has an interesting mixture of styles. The old town, with some buildings dating from the 1300s, has a number of old churches and interesting buildings and is a small enough area to allow you to explore it in a day. The Daugava river forms the western boundary of the old town and there are some interesting bridges spanning the river. In the picture above you can see a train crossing "the Railway Bridge" in the colourful time before the dawn. Its steel arches are a great feature, especially at night when they are illuminated. The building in the background is the Latvian Academy of Sciences and the arches of the central market can be seen to the left of the bridge arches. The central market is a fascinating place in itself. It is housed in five former Zeppelin hangars, huge semicylindrical buildings which are bursting with life during the opening hours every day. You can find all sorts of fresh meat, fish, vegetables and bakeries in the market as well as clothes, bags and other memorabilia in the stalls outside. Riga CathedralIt would be possible to spend tens of hours just viewing the different churches and religious buildings in the old town, my favourite of these was the Riga Cathedral which was constructed beginning in 1211 and has been adapted and modified many times over the intervening centuries. As well as accessing the main area of the church, it is possible to stroll around the cloister, this is all included in the €3 admission price. Latvian national libraryOn the other side of the Daugava, the main building of the National Library of Latvia is an imposing presence. Opened in 2014, this iconic building has 13 floors and employs over 400 people. The lines and shapes of the building are interesting both inside and out and the decision to use a large amount of the internal area for an atrium that extends the full height of the building allows for multiple vantage points. It is definitely worth looking around if you are in Riga. There were many hundreds of visitors to the library when I was there, but the enormous building quickly swallowed them up and I could maintain my normal "no people" style of photography for the most part. It seems that I quite often find staircases and escalators interesting when photographing in cities, and this was no exception. As well as the fancy criss-crossing staircases pictured above (not the previous picture but the one before), there was also a more functional high capacity evacuation route which caught my attention. It is often a good idea to check both the "looking down" and the "looking up" views when photographing a staircase, they are often quite different... it is worth investigating even though you have to climb all the stairs to find out. The TV TowerOne of the more surprising attractions in Riga is the soviet-era tv broadcast tower. At 368 metres high, this is seemingly the tallest tower in the European Union, the 3rd tallest on the European continent (after the tv towers in Kiev and Moscow) and the 15th tallest in the world. Situated on Zakusala island, in the middle of the Daugava river, it dominates the surroundings. The tower is accessible with a walk of around 40 minutes from the old town but it is possible to drive right to the base of it if you have access to a car. From the base of the tower it is possible to ascend in a custom made elevator up one of the legs of the structure. As you might notice the legs are not vertical so the elevator has to make a curving, diagonal journey up to the viewing level (the lower windows in the red part of the the structure) at 97m. From this level it is possible to get panoramic views to all directions, and even though it is "only" 97m high that already makes a huge difference to the view. The best time to visit this tower from a photography point of view would be in the middle of winter as it is the only time of year when the sunrise, sunset and even darkness hours coincide with the opening hours. The distance to the city and the heat haze during the day, combined with whatever has accumulated on the windows since their last wash, make it challenging for daytime photography. I understood from the helpful staff member on duty that the tower would be renovated in the next 12-18 months to allow even higher viewing points for visitors, possibly including an open air viewing deck... that will not be for the faint hearted. The Art Nouveau districtAnother highlight that was well worth a visit is the Art Nouveau district. There are a few blocks of really amazing buildings as well as the wonderful "Art Cafe Sienna" which has a selection of amazing cakes, an extensive range of teas and excellent coffee, all of which can be enjoyed in really beautiful surroundings. My main target when visiting this area was another staircase, this time at the Art Nouveau Museum, perhaps my second favourite staircase so far after the lightbulb staircase in Prague. The Riga staircase is very ornate and beautifully designed. One major challenge when trying to photograph this staircase is the lighting. There are some large windows at various points going up the stairs, they present something of a difficulty as even when they are hidden from view they still contribute light from unwanted directions... but the bigger annoyance is the motion sensitive lighting that is deployed at various points. The slightest movement or any coming and going caused changes in the lighting conditions, sometimes in the middle of an exposure. Luckily I had time and space to be somewhat patient at this location, it would have been more irritating if time was short. Sky barMy final destination in Riga was the Sky Bar in the Radisson hotel. What a perfect place to observe a winter sunset, bringing another trip to a conclusion. My next trip, in a week's time, will take me to the west coast of Iceland, I am very much looking forward to that. Hopefully the weather will cooperate and I can come back with some good pictures. Thanks for reading! Andy In the last few days it was my great pleasure to return to Utajärvi, a small village in the Northern Ostrobothnia region of Finland, to photograph Golden Eagles from a hide in the middle of the forest. I have been to Utajärvi on three previous occasions for the same purpose, it is surely the best location in Finland to photograph these rare and magnificent birds. The Golden Eagle is one of the best known birds of prey and is present across a large area of the Northern Hemisphere. The global population has been estimated to be approximately a quarter of a million individuals. That does not however make it easy to find! The Golden Eagle has sensibly learned to be cautious around humans and in order to have a reasonable chance to spot one from reasonably close range you need to be in a hide. On this trip I joined a Golden Eagle photography course organised by Finnature, in association with Olympus, and led by Jari Peltomäki, a well known Finnish professional photographer who is currently an "Olympus visionary" and uses their equipment for his photography. In order to maximise the chances to see the eagles, the day in the hide starts before 0700. We arrived in the dark in order to be set up and ready to be silent and still during the hours of daylight, waiting and hoping that the eagles would come to visit the area. In order to lure the eagles into range of our cameras some suitable bait (for instance foxes, squirrels or racoon dogs which have met their end in accidents on the local roads) is left for them to find. The new Finnature hide at Utajärvi (constructed last summer) is larger and more comfortable than the older ones but the most important difference in my opinion is the improved visibility which it offers. It is now possible to have a much wider field of view without having to change your position and that offers greatly increased chances to see all the activity. The eagles tend to approach in stages. Firstly you might see them doing a fly-by overhead, before they settle in the trees at the back of the area for a period of observation, possibly accompanied by some calling. This period of observation seems to typically last for many minutes, or even tens of minutes, but can also be very brief. One of the challenges of this kind of photography is that while you spend 10 or more hours in the hide, the important action of the day may only last for 10 seconds in total. You have to be ready all the time... and inevitably you sometimes choose the wrong moment to take care of something else (eating, changing batteries, having a toilet break) after concentrating for a prolonged period without getting a reward. All you can do is try to be as ready as possible and as focused as possible for as much of the time as possible. Sooner or later, the eagle may decide that it is safe to come and feed. This is a very sensitive time, if the eagle notices anything alarming, such as a moving camera lens, then it may decide to leave the area and not return... your day can effectively be over (although you still have to sit in the hide until nightfall). The practice is to remain silent and still until the eagle has started feeding, and then begin shooting. Some cameras have the possibility to shoot completely silently with an electronic shutter, this gives the possibility to aim the camera where you expect the eagle to land and silently capture its arrival without lens movements or disturbing noises. Once the eagle has landed shooting is also done cautiously, starting with single shots and gauging the reaction over a number of minutes before moving on to longer bursts. The ultimate goal is to encourage the eagle to stay for long enough that there is a chance for a second eagle to arrive. On the occasion shown in the video below, the eagle got spooked before another eagle had a chance to arrive on the scene. Should you be lucky enough to see it, the most interesting and valuable pictures are likely to come when a number of individuals start squabbling over the available food. Capturing these interactions is extremely challenging, the second eagle can arrive from any direction and as they come together the action can continue in unpredictable ways. The wings of these glorious animals are enormous, the wingspan can be well over 2 metres, and during a scuffle a wing can suddenly stick out to any direction... easily disappearing from the frame. In trying to capture these interactions, the choice of lens or the choice of focal length, is something to pay particular attention to. The longer the focal length, the more detail you can capture... but the harder it is to keep the birds in the frame. My thoughts for the trip were to use 800mm focal length for eagle portraits and around 400mm for action and interactions... but this plan was undermined by a problem with the weather sealing on my 100-400mm lens. Trying to shoot the interactions with 800mm focal length was something of a challenge. During the three days I spent with the eagles, I would say that the weather conditions were more favourable than average. Each day had periods where the clouds and the sun were battling for supremacy and this gave some beautifully soft golden light... but unfortunately that light rarely coincided with the best periods of eagle action. The snow was also an interesting variable with periods of heavier snow as well as moments where tiny individual snow crystals drifted slowly towards the ground as if gravity was turned down to a minimum and would travel horizontally instead of vertically at the slightest hint of a breeze. This was another very memorable trip. I am grateful to Jari Peltomäki and to Finnature for making it both possible and enjoyable. For any nature photographers, or wildlife enthusiasts, I can warmly recommend this experience whether you live in Finland or beyond.
Until next time, Andy A bit of a different trip this time as I swap my normal landscape and nature photography destinations for a few days in a city, heading for the old town of Prague in the Czech Republic. After checking into the hotel my first port of call was the Cafe of the Black Madonna where they not only have great coffee and delicious cakes (I recommend the Mille Feuille) but also one of the world's more photogenic staircases, commonly known as the lightbulb staircase. The "bulb" at the top of the stairs is in fact a window, so this particular lightbulb only shines during the hours of daylight. Shooting interior pictures, and trying to find interesting perspectives with a very wide angle lens was very refreshing during this trip. As evening approached I walked over the famous Charles bridge, lined with statues, which leads from the old town towards the castle. The statues and towers make for an interesting subject but the thousands of people that are in the way make this a less appealing prospect. At this time of year the sunset and the following blue hour are at civilised times of the day so there is no chance to get popular city destinations to yourself. The following day, before breakfast, I made the steep uphill walk from my hotel to the castle, trying to familiarise myself with the area and see what I might like to photograph over the coming days. One thing to notice was that all the famous buildings that were illuminated in the evening were shadowy and silent in the morning. There were fewer people and better light for shooting, but the possible subjects were dark and dead. In what would become a pattern for this trip I had walked about 10 kilometres by the time I sat down for breakfast. After refuelling at the breakfast buffet I set off towards the castle again, intending to try and find some interesting architecture shots. On the way I stopped at St Nicholas church, near to the old town square. The grand ceiling and impressive chandelier caught my attention and I decided to shoot from directly underneath the chandelier, making a very graphical picture, reminiscent of the view through a kaleidoscope. Continuing towards the castle I joined the thousands of others making their way up the steep hill. The many remarkable buildings in the castle complex were interesting to look at, but the huge amount of people was off-putting when it came to photography and I continued my journey towards the Strahov Monastery and particularly their library. Admission options for the monastery library included the possibility to pay a little extra for rights to take pictures there so as I made my way up the stairs to see the reading rooms I had a yellow sticker on my jacket indicating that I had photography rights. Even the yellow sticker did not allow entry into the rooms themselves so one had to be content with shooting from the doorways in this beautiful place. From the library I continued ever upwards towards the impressive observation tower at Petrin and the small hall of mirrors beside it on the top of the hill overlooking Prague, before heading back down towards the Vltava river and the city beyond. This route took me close to one of my other targets, "the Dancing House" designed by Frank Gehry and Vlado Milunic, so even though I had already covered close to 30 kilometres that day I decided to take the small detour see the dancing house in the twilight. This iconic and slightly odd building was fascinating to look at but not very easy to photograph. The adjacent intersection is extremely busy with traffic and the area is full of overhead electricity cables - it is a challenge to find a suitable place to shoot from. The picture above was taken from a very small traffic island with angry drivers (I did not notice any other kind of drivers in Prague) racing by within one metre of my tripod on both sides. Finally on this long, long day I visited the staircase at the Cafe of the Black Madonna in the dark to see what I could do with the lightbulb staircase when the light was "off". To me the resulting view now resembled the head of a bird instead of a lightbulb, the spiralling lines of the staircase retaining all of their interest even though the bird's eye had gone dark. The next day I was up and about before dawn once again. This time I climbed a different hill, across the river to the north of the old city and up to the park which contained the Prague metronome. If you searched carefully there were a few spots which offered panoramic views of the city, and continuing round towards the Kramarova villa there were also some good views towards the castle... but the morning was another grey and gloomy one with no interesting light for cityscapes. I did however have the good fortune to spot a Eurasian Nuthatch, seemingly quite a common bird in Prague (I saw a few) but still exciting for someone who lives in Finland where they are rather harder to find. After breakfast I set off once again to the north of the city, heading for the area containing the zoo and the botanical gardens. I have rather mixed feelings about zoos, it is very interesting to see the animals up close, and I understand that many zoos are doing a lot of work with conservation of animals, but I still feel bad every time I see animals enclosed in tiny environments. All zoos are not equal, and I think that the Prague one was towards the better end of the scale when it comes to having enough room for the animals with quite a few very large areas, but in some cases (such as the eagles and owls) the cramped spaces seemed especially harsh. Putting aside any other negative feelings, the challenge of taking pictures in a zoo is an interesting one. One the one hand you can get incredibly close to some very interesting species, but on the other hand you need to be quite inventive with your shooting in order to keep all fences, windows, walls and other artificial elements out of your pictures. Having spend many hundreds of hours searching for genuinely wild wildlife with my camera over the past couple of years, it is almost annoying how easy it is to get interesting shots in a zoo. Although this was an interesting exercise, and I was quite happy with the pictures I managed to take, I think I will stick to "real" nature photography from now on. I wonder what the future will hold for our zoos. With the amazing variety of nature programs on the television and the huge amount of information on the internet, the "need" for zoos in our cities as a way to educate the public would seem to be greatly reduced compared to 100 or even 50 years ago. I guess that more and more will evolve towards a concept where there are fewer and fewer animals incarcerated in cages and more and more open environments where a lower amount of animals can interact with their environments in a more natural way with humans observing safely from within the environment. It will be interesting to see how it goes. After leaving the zoo I found myself in an unfamiliar position. My phone battery was dead and I was not exactly sure where I was. The walk to the zoo had taken nearly 2 hours and although I thought I could retrace my steps I was reluctant to do so as I was rather tired. I decided to get on a bus and hope for the best, even though I did not recognise the names of any of the stops nor understand any of the signs. Some time later I was deposited at an unfamiliar underground station from where I made another guess about which stations might be near my hotel, and then a further guess about which way to walk... all of which brought me safely back to my room. It seems I am a decent guesser. It was a reminder of how much we come to rely on our phones, but also good to know that I could survive without mine for a few hours. The Prague underground itself is an interesting place. Built in the 1970s and 1980's the stations themselves have a definite feel of their time of origin... but not in a "terrible wallpaper of your childhood" kind of way. Each station on the same line seemed to have a slightly different colour scheme but a consistent design, helping passengers to easily identify their stop. I got the feeling that it might be possible to spend a productive day or two just photographing the activities and stations along the 65.2km underground network. Maybe next time. That evening I once again made the walk across the Charles bridge, looking for some different views than the ones I had seen so many times before. I once again climbed the steep hill to the area beside the metronome in search of a different view towards the castle, preferring to shoot in black and white to simplify the real mess of different colours that illuminate the buildings of the area. This was a very good trip, a refreshing break from my normal landscape shooting, and also great exercise as I carried my camera gear for over 150,000 steps in my 4.5 days in the city... a benefit which was somewhat mitigated by the mere 5,000 steps that I took in the following 4.5 days while going through my pictures. Before I leave you, there is just time to share one more picture from the staircase at the cafe of the Black Madonna, surely my favourite place to photograph during the trip. Thanks a lot to all my readers, please feel free to leave comments or questions by clicking the "Contact Andy" link below.
Until next time, Andy "Winter is coming" said the weather forecast, as it has been saying for a few weeks here in southern Finland... but the problem is that winter never arrived. Finally I got fed up of waiting and decided to head north for a few days in search of deep snow and real winter rather than grey wet depression. My destination was Ruka, a skiing resort about 25km north of Kuusamo and about 40km south of the Arctic Circle... about an 850km drive from my home. On my way I stopped for the night in the small city of Kajaani to break up the long drive, finding the interesting old church as I explored the city in the late evening. The following day I eventually completed the journey to Ruka and was happy to see that there was a good amount of snow in the area. It was already obvious from the drive that the trees, covered in an unfeasible amount of snow, would provide interesting subjects for photography. The days are very short at this time of year at this latitude but the light for photography is rather good, even when the sun is at its highest the light is not very harsh and the sunrise/sunset and the blue hours last for a long time. Another bonus from photography point of view was the way the ski slopes were lit, the artificial lighting which is used for that purpose was not the harsh orange sodium lighting that you usually see in town centres but a much softer and slightly more pink light which resembled sunset colours, extending the sunset mood for many hours after the sun had departed. I spent quite some time wondering around the area near the ski slopes as the twilight and the light from the ski slopes were made even nicer by thin low cloud. I had found the winter I was looking for. The magical trees also looked great once it was truly dark, I ventured to the village again in the late evening after taking a dinner break. One difficulty caused by the short days is that there is not much time available to scout for good shooting locations. In summer photography trips you have a total of 3-4 hours per day of good light to shoot in with a 10 hour scouting gap in-between - this makes it quite easy to find new locations and travel to them ready for the action periods. In winter that gap just disappears and it is not so easy to get to know a new location. On the second day (and first morning) of my short stay in Ruka I headed out on foot a couple of hours before the sunrise, picked a direction in which to walk and hoped for the best... I was at least treated to a beautiful morning walk. My idea for the day was to visit Oulanka National Park, about 25 minutes drive north of Ruka, where I hoped that one of the trails would be passable without needing skis or snowshoes. My goal was to get to the rather photogenic rapids at Myllykoski and shoot them in full winter conditions. The path to Myllykoski was passable, but not very easy. There is a fair amount of traffic on this route so a very narrow path through the snow was kept open, but if you put a foot to the side your leg was quickly enveloped in snow up to your knee. The main hazard was the occasional very steep sections. There are steps in place for these sections in the summer but they were in a curious condition, smooth icy slopes with a rail beside them. I wondered how they got to this state until I saw someone approaching in the other direction sliding down the slope using the rail to keep the speed to a minimum. All very clever... but for people wanting to go up the same steep slope this was quite a pain in the ass. The other interesting part of the route was the narrow rope bridges that allow you to cross over the Kitkajoki river. These were also quite hazardous as they were only just wide enough for a person, covered with snow and ice, and very wobbly... with a raging river below. When starting the trail from the car park in Juuma, the first bridge over the river was a great spot to see white throated dippers. There were 2 of them fishing there when I went past on the way to Myllykoski, and 5 of them as I passed the same spot on the way back. Dippers are always interesting birds to shoot... but I did not have a suitable lens for that job on this occasion. After a couple of kilometres I found my way to the Myllykoski area, a bend in the river where the water suddenly speeds up and becomes agitated, with a lovely old mill on the apex of the bend. After looking around for a few minutes it became clear that the best vantage point would be from another wobbly rope bridge. After making my way round to the bridge, an even shakier one than the previous one, I was able to get some shots of the Myllykoski mill. The wobbly bridge presented quite a challenge from photography point of view, in order to handle the rushing water you would usually aim for a rather long exposure... but in order to keep the shots sharp on the unstable bridge the exposure could not be too long. Some experimentation was needed to discover the longest safe shutter speed for shooting from the bridge. As I was in unfamiliar territory, with the light fading, and with the path not being easy to traverse, I didn't want to go too much further along the trail - returning in darkness would have been a bit difficult. I followed the trail through the forest and around the next bend where I found a nice view of another cabin in the forest as the sun went down, and then started back to the car. I could not resist taking a few more shots of the mill at Myllykoski on my way back, this time using a bit longer focal length to make the mill take up more of the frame. This was a really nice location to visit, and would be worth returning to in different seasons. There is an extensive network of trails through Oulanka National Park and they would be a great hiking destination in the summer months. On the following morning I started for home, my idea was to drive a far as I (safely) could as I needed to be home by midday the following day at the latest, but in the end I made the whole journey home in one day. According to my car I drove 851 kilometres and the driving time was 10 hours and 31 minutes. I did however stop a couple of times to take photographs of the forests at the roadside. This was an enjoyable little trip, and helped to blow away the depression of the grey days in southern Finland. The new year is well under way, the nights are getting lighter and I hope that I have some interesting trips ahead of me. Until the next time, Andy As 2017 came to an end, my project to photograph as many bird species as I could in 2017 also concluded. The red-legged partridge from Kilmuir in Scotland was the final addition to the 2017 list, the 169th species I captured during the year. Overall this was a pretty good result, my initial target had been 100 species which seemed ambitious enough in January last year, but ended up being fairly easy. Some relatively common species escaped my attention (e.g. rook, rough-legged buzzard, black woodpecker, hawfinch) but on the other hand I was able to photograph some rarer species (e.g. pallid harrier, red kite, stonechat, Tengmalm's owl). With the new year I need a new count, and suddenly I am all the way back to zero. I think I will keep track of my count for 2018 also but I won't give it such a focus as I did last year, preferring to concentrate on learning to recognise new species that I have never photographed before and getting as good pictures as I can of whatever species, even if I have photographed them before. My 2018 account got off to a very nice start yesterday as I went in search of the Black Redstart which had been spotted a number of times over the festive period in the capital area (of Finland). Wait a minute, you are probably saying, that doesn't look exactly like I was expecting... and you would be right, the consensus amongst those who know better than me seems to be that this is a central asian subspecies of the black redstart - phoenicurus phoenicuroides for all you latin speakers. Quite what such a specimen would be doing in these parts is a bit of a mystery, It might be that those who know even better than those who know better than me can still come to an updated conclusion about what the bird is, if so then I will update this post with any subsequent developments... but for now I will assume it is this "eastern black redstart". The weather in southern Finland has been typically disgusting over the past weeks, temperatures fluctuating around zero rather than providing a proper winter experience, instead we are treated to grey, wet, cold, slippery, muddy and dark days and only get to see the sun for some brief moments every 4th or 5th day. This creates quite a challenge for bird photography where you would ideally use fast shutter speeds (1/1000s or faster) to freeze the action. In order to get enough light to fall on the camera sensor in dark conditions it is sometimes necessary to gamble on much longer exposures... and as with any gamble there is a possibility to lose and that leads to blurred images... but once in a while you can snatch victory from the jaws of defeat if they happen to be blurred interestingly. This was a marvellous looking bird, and a rarity, so it was a really nice way to start 2018 and very much worth tramping through some luxurious mud and navigating through a swampy area in order to find it. Spotting the bird itself was easy on this occasion, the half a dozen humans pointing telephoto lenses or binoculars at a particular bush gave a strong hint as to it's location. The bird was also very well behaved as a subject, happy to stay relatively close to it's interested observers while regularly changing positions to allow some variety in the pictures. I don't think that it was entirely healthy however, it made constant head and neck movements over the 20 minutes that I observed it, as if it was trying to swallow something, so perhaps it has something stuck in its throat. I hope that it recovers from whatever is ailing it and manages to find a way to survive the winter. When searching for birds, particularly when searching for one certain species, it is very often the case that your effort ends in a disappointment, it is not an exact science or an easy task, so it is very satisfying when you get one of these good days and find what you are looking for. I hope there are more such days to come as the year progresses. That's it for this time, hopefully I will soon have something to share with you again. I hope that 2018 has started well for you.
Until next time, Andy Hi everyone, and apologies for a period of inactivity in my blog. First I was travelling, then I was a bit unwell, then it was Christmas... and all of a sudden it has been four weeks since my last post. Now that I have made my excuses, perhaps I can tell about my trip to Scotland for 12 days in December. As some of you will realise, this trip took me to my country of origin. My intention this time was to split my days between exploring with my camera and catching up with friends and family - my parents, brothers, sisters-in-law, nieces and nephews all still live in Scotland and it was high time for a visit. My journey to Inverness was somewhat more complicated than it should have been due to unfavourable weather conditions. Firstly my flight from Helsinki to Amsterdam had to divert to a small military airport in Groningen for refuelling, Amsterdam was reduced to a single operating runway by fog and wind and we did not have enough fuel to go round in circles waiting our turn. After a 2 hour wait in the plane on the tarmac in Groningen we finally made the short hop to Amsterdam. My second flight, from Amsterdam to Inverness, went without incident until we were above Inverness, at which point the captain informed us that the airport was currently closed due to heavy snow... so we went round in circles overhead for 90 minutes while they cleared the runways. This did however offer some great views of the snow-covered city. The weather which disrupted my flights, would also disrupt many of my other plans. Living in Finland I am very used to freezing conditions and driving on snowy or icy roads, but I felt like it was wise to be a bit more cautious when driving an unfamiliar car on unfamiliar roads without the benefit of winter tyres. I had hoped to travel all around the north and west of Scotland, including the Isle of Skye, but instead I stayed within a couple of hours drive of my parents house near to Inverness for most of my trip. Luckily there was plenty of interesting things to point my camera at without travelling more widely. I decided to visit the lighthouse at Tarbat Ness, an impressive 53m tall specimen built in 1830 by Robert Stevenson (the grandfather of Robert Louis Stevenson) as part of the response to a great storm in 1826 which had resulted in the loss of 16 vessels in the Moray Firth. The lighthouse still operates today, fully automated, and it's light can be seen for over 40 kilometres (on the rare clear days in this part of the world). The location is somewhat remote on the end of a peninsula, ideal lighthouse locations are not always the most convenient to journey to. Tarbat Ness was also a good place to observe birds, I spotted chaffinches, robins, dunnocks, rock pipits and blue tits as well as being almost continually accompanied by the sound of wrens as a I explored the area. There were noticeably more birds than there are in Finland at this time of year. Over the course of the following few days I spent some time walking with my camera near to Kilmuir, in search of bird species that I had not previously photographed. There were two particular prizes that I was seeking, the red kite (a bird of prey which is rather hard to find in Finland) and the red-legged partridge (a small game bird that can't be found in Finland at all). The red kite is historically a native bird in Scotland but had disappeared from these parts until a successful effort to reintroduce it at the end of the last century, relocating 93 birds from Sweden for the purpose. Thankfully, nowadays, it is possible to see these beautiful birds more regularly, I was able to see one or more of them at least every second day during my trip. When it comes to the red-legged partridge, my hunt for that prize was not so straight-forward, every time I went out with my camera I would come back empty handed. After one such failed search I sat at the kitchen table having coffee, only for a red legged partridge to walk slowly past on the street outside, about 1 metre away... unfortunately my camera was not with me. Sometimes that's how things go. My next lighthouse was at Chanonry Point, a narrow spit of land in-between the villages of Fortrose and Rosemarkie which is one of the best places in the world to observe dolphins from the shore. This lighthouse was also built by a Stevenson, this time Alan Stevenson (son of Robert, uncle of Robert Louis), and it was completed in 1846. It still operates, fully automated since 1984. I was not lucky enough to see any dolphins while at Chanonry Point but there were many birds in the immediate area including oystercatchers, robins, dunnocks, sparrows and a goldcrest - but the most interesting species I saw was a stonechat, the 167th species I have photographed this year. From Chanonry Point I continued round the coast to Rosemarkie where I spotted a flock of Brent Geese on the beach... species 168. From Rosemarkie beach I followed a path through the forest to some fairy pools. The sign promised that it was 500m to my destination so after walking up a hill for 25 minutes I started to have some doubts about whether I was on the right path, but when turning the next corner they were right in front of me. It was a bit curious that this area was almost free of snow while lower down in the valley there was a thick white blanket covering everything. The lighthouse project continued as my father and I took a day trip, following the Moray coast east to the town of Lossiemouth where the impressive Covesea Skerries lighthouse can be found. Another Stevenson design (Alan once again), this lighthouse was built in 1846 as another part of the recommended response to the storm of 1826, it's light was finally extinguished in 2012 but the iconic structure remains. From Lossiemouth we continued east to the town of Portknockie where the quartzite rock that makes up the local coastline has eroded into interesting shapes, the most famous of which is Bow Fiddle Rock, an interesting protrusion about 50 metres away from the coastal cliffs. As we returned from our trip to Portknockie I was again taunted by the elusive red-legged partridge. This time there were a pair of them sitting on the neighbours doorstep. They were very close and not that concerned by our presence... but it was about 2 hours after sunset and way too dark to take bird photographs. On the second weekend of my trip I headed south to Leven, near Edinburgh, to visit my nephews. It was a particular highlight to be able to watch the new Star Wars movie with them in St Andrews after visiting their favourite bookshop. After returning to Kilmuir again the red-legged partridge was on my mind. Time was running short to get a photograph. Wondering around with my camera brought all kinds of birds into view, but not the one I was looking for... as compensation I was at least treated to a nice sunset. Although I didn't find the partridge, I had a lucky encounter with another Kilmuir resident who gave me a tip about where I might see some partridges early the next morning, before my flight back to Finland. A dawn stakeout, hiding under some tall bushes, was finally rewarded (after 80 cold minutes) with the sight of a pair of nervous red-legged partridges. They were a bit smaller than I expected, about the size of a pigeon, and behaved in a similar way to pheasants, preferring to walk or run away from any perceived danger instead of using their wings and taking to the air. The bird was a bit distant and the sun was below the horizon so the picture is no masterpiece, but at least it gives an idea how these distinctive birds look, and also takes my 2017 photographed species count to 169. Thanks to all who have shown an interest in my blog and my photographs during 2017, I wish you a happy new year and a great 2018. Andy |
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