I’ve taken a few photos of these small waterfalls since the start of the year. This time, I went for the context of the surrounding caves as well, and just for a change, shot it using the new mobile phone camera before processing as an HDR panorama.
Port Mora, along the Southern Upland Way from Portpatrick.
A quick cost-benefit analysis:
| EE | Vodafone+3 | |
| cost | £37/month | £9+£12.90/month |
| 2g coverage | fine | excellent / NA |
| 3g coverage | fine | NA / excellent |
| reliability | atrocious | excellent |
| contract length | 24mo | 12+1mo |
Just to be clear, by “atrocious” I mean EE’s signal drops-out every time it rains or blows a gale, which in our particular geography is at least once a fortnight throughout winter, sometimes for half a day, and in both January and February, for periods of even 5 days at a time; there was no evidence of internal network monitoring, just fire-fighting reacting to tweets of complaint. As for customer service, when I wrote an actual letter to complain they tried to fob me off telling me to call 150 from the mobile that was out of action at the time. They also took a week to fix a broken SSL certificate on their customer login website. I really hated the phone – the Samsung Galaxy Note proved an unreliable lump of junk, the only phone I’ve had to return for warranty repairs – twice.
Granted, 3’s signal will suffer the same failings, but at a third of the monthly cost I’m prepared to continue paying for that, especially since my primary number is now on the most reliable service.
It’s funny how a lot of Android websites only seem to consider a handful of “premium” manufacturers – if it’s not Samsung, Sony or HTC, very few people seem to be interested. Yet by stepping outside the social Western norms, I’ve managed to acquire a thl mobile with dual SIM-card slots, octa-core CPU, 2GB RAM and a 13-megapixel camera (hey, that’s more than my old Canon G9 compact camera!) at a very reasonable price, and I can get a fair deal on recycling the old Galaxy Note as well.
Moral of the story? If you tie yourself in to a tariff and phone dictated by a telco, the service will be crap, after 2 years the phone will stink, and you’ll be throwing money down the drain. Liberation is bliss.
An initial experiment with the new mobile phone camera – part of the regular dog-walking route this evening.
It appears to be spring again; with the ground covered in a carpet bluebells all around, walking Dog in the local woods is a joy.
6 shots, made fresh this morning, with the Pentacon 50mm f/1.8 lens (almost wide-open).
Ferns
The past couple of days I’ve been experimenting with the old Pentacon 50mm f/1.8 lens; its bokeh wide-open is quite spectacular, giving this small scene a strong sense of depth.
Light and cloud shadows on the sea, overlooking Portpatrick.
It’s a bright sunny bank-holiday weekend, which means only one thing.
Of five approaching cars at which I waved, only one young yet surprisingly dour-looking passenger waved back.
Visiting vehicles are easily identified by how caravans clog-up the roads, how cars perform 3-point turns in the mouths of T-junctions.
Avoiding eye-contact becomes the norm, as does the body-language of shying-away from Dog when passing on the pavement. Instead, out come the silver insulated food bags that bring their suburban life to us, their chilled packet contents probably bought from the perceived safety of a generic supermarket en route rather than in one of the local shops.
It speaks of an indifference to the existing social networks within the village being invaded, a separation of us versus the self-centred them.
I do not see merit in the argument that tourism is good for the local economy. It might seem to be, in a short-sighted fashion; but when all visitors see is each other and perceive landscape as pretty, its shallowness does not compare to the depth and quality of soul that comes from involving oneself in committing one’s life and work to a place.
A couple of days ago the shed door started coming off its hinges altogether in ordinary use – the wood underlying the screws had rotten away.
This afternoon, we burned the whole thing – and a great bonfire it made, too, with the roofing felt melting, burning, exuding a thick black smoke (fortunately not for too long).
Narcissi and Dutchman’s Breeches backlit in the evening light.
I walked maybe half a mile along the pebbled shores of Loch Ryan, attempting to make interesting photos in classical landscape style. Of this kind of scene, one particular favourite survived the editing purge:
However, the photo I favour most from this afternoon was a serendipitous find, a result of some gentle urban exploration. Just standing in the doorway of this ruined building, all the light through the windows and lines and curves somehow fell together into a classic composition, a celebration of abandonment in grunge:
It also looks radically different in colour:
I’ve made a few photos of this waterfall since the start of the year: it might only be small, located a long walk away from home in the corner of Port Mora bay beside a cave, but being my own discovery makes it more favourite than some of the other waterfalls in Galloway.
SRB ND1000 filter, two frames at 30s each; experimenting with a fairly thick-black tonality and the 6×7 portrait aspect-ratio.
Wee Waterfall
Well, they say photography is partly about seeing interest in mundane things. So here are five views of a simple bit of street-furniture:
All are black and white, HDR made from 3 frames bracketed +/-1EV.
Two landscape photos, fresh off the press, taken on Friday evening as the sun had just about set.
Quietness in a frame.
Wouldn’t think they were HDR, would you?
This is what it looked like, walking Dog through the local woods this morning.
Misty Woods
Having installed raspberries in January, today saw the second significant planting of the year: an old flower bed given a sense of purpose, dug over and mounds filled with planted potatoes (Harlequin variety, since we preferred it to the purple things last year, and it claims to be good for everything from salads to boiling to mashing).