Modern camera technology

The final photograph in the previous post was of a kingfisher, sitting on some stonework just out of Worcester city centre. I described it in the post as ‘heavily cropped’ and I think it’s a testimony to the quality of modern camera sensors and lenses that an image can be effectively ‘blown up’ and still retain so much resolution.

Here’s what happened (and I must stress that there was no skill involved on my part beyond the use of the cropping tool; no photoshopping or enhancement of any kind – it is all down to the camera equipment).

The kingfisher flew across the river and alighted on the quayside; it was some distance away but was clearly a kingfisher. Not wishing to spook the bird, my son took a few shots in ‘burst’ mode without moving any closer. He was using a Sony Alpha 6000 with a Sony 55-210 zoom lens; from memory he thinks it was shot at maximum zoom but it was all in a bit of a hurry. This is the original shot…

The kingfisher is visible, just left of centre and on the corner of the quayside.

When we’d got the pictures loaded onto the computer at home, I just thought I’d try cropping to remove the railings; I expected the result to be grainy and unusable. This was the first crop…

It was way better than I would have anticipated, but I knew you couldn’t expect to keep cropping without compromising image quality. Nevertheless, I though I’d give it one more trim – this time with really low expectations…

The result was the photograph above, which is the one used in the previous post.

I just thought this was an amazing testimony to the quality of modern camera equipment, even in the hands of an amateur (although Rob, to be fair to him, does have a decent eye for a picture). I contributed nothing beyond the use of the cropping tool.







The mountain at the end of the street…

I read somewhere – and for the life of me I can’t remember where – about the visual and sensory impact of mountains where they are visible from the streets of a town or city. I recall the article mentioning some of the obvious examples – Seattle, Kathmandu – but also referring to the views of The Peaks from Manchester and Sheffield. I’d credit the author if I could remember who it was; it might have been Robert Macfarlane.

This shot was taken looking south-west along the high street of Kingussie: the looming presence dominating the skyline is Creag Dubh – a two and a half thousand footer which is actually beyond Newtonmore but almost looks within touching distance…


Just a thought…

Redundant railway siding reclaimed by wild flowers – Kidderminster

“The wild prefaced us, and it will outlive us… The ivy will snake back and unrig our flats and terraces, as it scattered the Roman villas. The sand will drift into our business parks, as it drifted into the brochs of the Iron Age. Our roads will lapse into the land.”

Robert Macfarlane: The Wild Places




Update (Stonelairg)

Following on quickly from the previous post (8th May), a further email arrived today confirming the announcement already covered in this release:

SSE – the outfit who “settled” for £50,000 from the trust – turned over not far shy of £29 Billion according to their most recently published annual report. This £50,000 is additional to the £75,000 already paid to the Scottish government, who had refused to accept the decision of a judicial review and effectively dragged the JMT into financial waters which were simply too deep for them.

I think I’ll probably leave it there…





I’ve left it late, as I invariably do, but I’m in the early stages of breaking in a new pair of boots, which will take a while. I don’t much like boots, only wear them when really necessary – snow (which is sadly rare) and deep mud or boggy ground (somewhat less rare); but the sole on my old Hi-Tec Ascents is separating from the upper in a way that no amount of wax or dubbin is going to fix. I’ll hopefully see out the winter with them and, in the meantime,  gradually ease in the new pair with shorter walks on mostly level ground. Coincidentally, I’m not the only one breaking in new boots… see Alan Sloman’s blog.

I’m much more interested in the experimental pair of ‘trail’ shoes I’m trying out, and encouraged by first impressions. Having had mixed experiences with both Inov8 and Brasher (one good, one not so good in each case) I decided to go down the route of looking around for a pair of cross-country running shoes in a wide fitting and came across the New Balance 610 Version 4 at what seemed like an astonishingly good price. The price led me to suspect that a model change was imminent, which turned out to be true; the restyled but apparently similar under the skin V5 is now on sale, retailing at between £70 and £80.

Width fitting is an issue with me, particularly for my seemingly ever-spreading left foot and the discomfort it suffers from a too tight toe-box. Specifying ‘wide fit’ in an online search reduces the available options considerably; the 610s are a 4e width fitting and comfortable from first time on. Specifying cross-country was simply in the hope of finding something with improved grip – primarily for mud and wet rock, rather than snow and ice – although the lug pattern on the NB’s isn’t what I would describe as overly aggressive.

dscn1165First impressions are so far so good: the shoes have felt comfortable from the outset, grip is certainly good on muddy trails; as for durability only time will tell. The 4e width is a real blessing for me as I don’t have to go a half or even a full size bigger just to get a bit more room in the toe-box. The only real drawback is that the shoes have a Gore-tex liner, which I would happily have done without, but it doesn’t appear to add too much to the weight. Mostly I prefer unlined shoes because I find membranes can make my feet a bit too warm at times. On the plus side, they do mostly fall within my preferred colour range of very dark grey to black.


A goodbye to 2016

So much has been said and written about 2016 that there are probably few, if any, stones left to turn. The level of attrition among well-loved and iconic celebrities seems to have been unprecedented; the shifts in the political landscape certainly caught out the commentators and experts – pollsters included; indeed pollsters in particular. If I’m left with any overriding impression, it’s of a year where seminal, potentially life-changing events seemed to have moved beyond the control of anyone and assumed a momentum all of their own.

Turmoil: it’s not exactly a new phenomenon but it does make me grateful for the cathartic effects of walking among the hills, getting some separation, if only temporarily, from what passes for reality. This year, those have been the best of times; and that’s probably true in most years.

The worst of times? If I had to single out just one, it was the senseless, incomprehensible killing of Jo Cox.

On a personal level, I shall forever miss Leonard Cohen; there won’t be another to fill that particular void, not in my lifetime. Since his passing, I’ve listened to a number of discussions about which was the best cover of Hallelujah – Rufus Wanwright? John Cale? Jeff Buckley? The list, like the debate, goes on…

There’s a custom in football of, in exceptional circumstances, ‘retiring’ a shirt number worn with distinction by an outstanding player: Cruyff, Baresi, Zola, Henrik Larsson as just a few examples. Similarly, every now and again somebody just makes a song their own, for posterity…


Jo Cox : 1974-2016

A happy 2017 to all: perhaps we will get to live in uninteresting times for a while.

The blog parasite

By the way, that’s not some very selective strain of computer virus specifically targeting Blogger and WordPress. It’s me I’m referring to; although it’s taken me a while to realise…

Back in the summer, the outdoor blogging community sadly lost one of its finest – Oldmortality. And there, straight away, that tells its own story: I never met him, never knew him by his real name; only by his blogger username.

His blog, One small step, was (and remains – follow this link) wise, funny, erudite, provocative, irreverent, endlessly entertaining, and all of the many other things you’d want to find in a blog. As if that wasn’t enough, he’d also frequently add links to some exceptionally fine musical treasures.

But here’s the thing: I visited One small step regularly, have read pretty much all of the back posts at some point, still do, and will continue to do so for as long as the link works. But I rarely commented: only a handful of times over the years and that’s true of other blogs as well and for all sorts of reasons. Now I’m wondering if passive reading of the efforts of others, without the mutuality of leaving at least a brief comment is tantamount to taking from the (blogging) community and contributing nothing – or not much – by way of reciprocation. People go to a lot of trouble to put this stuff in the public domain, generally without reward or any desire for it; maybe they deserve better recognition – something a bit more tangible than another tick in the stats counter.

I know some blog sites – this one among them – can make commenting less than straightforward: crossing platforms seems, if anything, to become less intuitive as the social media options continue to proliferate. Measures intended to keep the spammers at bay can be a deterrent to like-minded souls whose only intention is to add a constructive comment.

So, not normally given to the making of resolutions, I’ll break the habit and resolve firstly to comment more regularly on other blogs when I visit them, and secondly to explore ways of making this one a bit more accessible and welcoming.

I hope I’m not breaking too many laws by adding this…