I can’t recommend this highly enough. Best “dangerous old codgers” comedy since RED. Last of the Summer Wine via Harlan Coben. If you’re in a tight spot and your support is a choice between Jack Bauer and the daft old Finnish ladies, don’t rush to a decision. Dark. Exciting. Hilarious!

Available in the UK on All4: https://www.channel4.com/programmes/sunset-grove

Are we becoming the feckless race from The Time Machine? Can we resist the temptation?

Background

The Essay: Are We Becoming the Eloi?

Assessment

The experiment provides further evidence, if it were needed, supporting Matt Shumer’s assertion. Using just two simple prompts the free version of ChatGPT has generated work which I would be proud to claim as my own, honesty permitting.

Much of my professional career hinged upon my ability to consolidate disparate sets of information, analyse and summarise them into a coherent whole, and then clearly communicate the expected impacts and options for action. A large part of that work can now be laid off to an AI.

That said, at least for now there’s a difference between “implement this well-formed idea” and “help me develop this idea”. It’s not clear how AI would fit into my 40-year-old tried and tested analysis process. I start with a blank document, or maybe a vague outline, and dump all sorts of ideas, notes, research material and other people’s contributions at the bottom. I then work down through all the material, delivering a curated and edited version into the document above. I eliminate the irrelevant or duplicated. Some material is included only to be refuted. The text is constantly refactored to ensure flow and coherent arguments. That process in turn generates ideas for further research, tests and writing.

For example, after reading the AI generated essay, I thought of two more potentially rich seams of analysis:

1. Wells wrote The Time Machine in 1895. Phones and electricity services were a recently-invented novelty. Distant communication was by letter or telegraph. Wells set the later scenes 800,000 years in the future, and failed to predict the exponential, accelerating changes which mean we are confronting these challenges after a mere 130 years. Does the speed of change impact on the effect it will have?
2. In The Time Machine, the Eloi are supported by the dark, subterranean Morlocks. They manage the hidden technology but also prey upon the Eloi, for food. In a very literal sense the Eloi are not the customers, they are the product. This is clearly a powerful, if extreme, metaphor for the capitalist providers of our tech. That metaphor could be explored further.

AI could clearly be instructed to extend the essay with these concepts, but it didn’t initiate them. For now, I still have to have the ideas.

However, I can imagine an AI which keeps track of my writing ideas, and regularly prompts me with “what do you want to write next?”, takes my notes and comes up with a first draft. It would be trained to mimic my own style, not one to which I aspire. It could automatically prompt the image generator to generate some sample hero images with my regular cast of characters, like the puzzled bear. It could automate the posting process. I could become one of the most prolific bloggers, but at what point is the blog no longer mine, but a computer’s?

There’s an interesting difference between the two versions of the essay. The first, academic, version (see here) goes into quite a lot of detail on the mental health dimension, complete with supporting references. Despite being an explicit element of the prompt, this is only lightly touched upon in the second version. I’ve seen this before: stylistic guidelines can change not only the writing style, but may also impact on tone, direction and content.

The temptation to use AI is potentially overwhelming. Two 1400 word essays were each generated for me in less than a minute. Either could be used without further work. By comparison my introduction and assessment have taken at least 6 hours to write. If I was getting paid for this the temptation would be hard to resist.

Even where I need to write the words myself, I will now use AI for supporting tasks. My blog’s “hero” images are either my own photos, or AI-generated cartoons. If I was writing my project management book today I wouldn’t employ a cartoonist. And that’s another job gone…

However, I’m not sure there’s any evidence yet of “the singularity”. The main reason is I think we’ve got the wrong idea about it. AI doesn’t have to be fully sentient to cause harm. It doesn’t have to launch nukes or push us out of an airlock to cause profound societal change.

Instead, I think we are going to experience a series of inflection points in different disciplines. We may not notice many of them as AI rapidly accelerates towards and passes them, we will only recognise them in the rear-view mirror.

We have to understand how AI will affect society, and that brings us back directly to my own question. Are we becoming the Eloi?

The answer is probably “not exactly”. I don’t think we need fear a future in which we are all completely degenerate, farmed by a successor species, aliens (or machines, as in The Matrix).

But we may be headed very rapidly for a world in which we all display some characteristics of the Eloi, some of the time. We are already in a society in which a substantial subset feel things are done to them, not by them. Some of us will also be Morlocks, unless we somehow arrest the rise of exploitative corporate giants.

The speed of change is significant. Wells imagined a gap of 800,000 years, in which the Eloi have degenerated physically as well as mentally. In reality in that period a better-equipped species of Homo might evolve. Instead, we are trying to manage massive and accelerating mental and societal change with much the same physical provision as the first of our species.

I think the ChatGPT essay sums it up well: “The Eloi did not notice the moment they became helpless. That is precisely why we should.”

We need to be alert to the risks. As individuals we need to try and understand what we can, avoid always taking the easy way out, and sometimes deliberately “do it the hard way”. We also need to make sure those attitudes are inculcated into younger generations. We need to make sure our political decision-makers are also alert to the risks, and not blind-sided by the siren calls of big tech.

We don’t have to become the Eloi. But there’s a very real risk that we will.

]]> https://www.andrewj.com/blog/2026/are-we-becoming-the-eloi/feed/ 0 https://www.andrewj.com/blog/2026/are-we-becoming-the-eloi-the-academic-version/ https://www.andrewj.com/blog/2026/are-we-becoming-the-eloi-the-academic-version/#respond Fri, 20 Feb 2026 12:29:22 +0000 https://www.andrewj.com/blog/?p=2978 Introduction This is an appendix to a more complete article, see https://www.andrewj.com/blog/2026/are-we-becoming-the-eloi-the-academic-version/ I was recently bemoaning our increasing dependency on automation and our general inability to take charge and either fix or work around broken things, and I thought of … Continue reading →]]>

Introduction

This is an appendix to a more complete article, see https://www.andrewj.com/blog/2026/are-we-becoming-the-eloi-the-academic-version/

I was recently bemoaning our increasing dependency on automation and our general inability to take charge and either fix or work around broken things, and I thought of the Eloi. In H G Well’s The Time Machine, published in 1895, he imagined a distant future human race who live an apparently idyllic existence, but who have lost any ability to help themselves, and are to some extent just farm animals for the Morlocks, who prey upon them. In some ways, we may be approaching the society Wells foresaw. At the same time I read another essay asserting that AI is ready to displace a large proportion of what we used to call “knowledge workers”. I decided to test the latter assertion by asking ChatGPT to draft an essay on “Are We Becoming the Eloi?”.

I fired up the free version of ChatGPT with the following prompt:

Write an essay of 1300-1400 words, on the subject “Are We Becoming the Eloi?” Take as reference the race of the Eloi in H G Wells’ The Time Machine. Compare current societal trends such as an increasing reliance on automation, increased distance between users and underlying technology (with a commensurate inability to act if the technology is not working) and the increased anxiety and mental health issues of younger generations. Write in a style similar to this article: https://www.andrewj.com/blog/2025/adjustable-architecture-and-minimising-waste/

The essay below is what resulted. It’s presented exactly as generated.

For various reasons, I then went on to generate a second version, with different stylistic guidelines, which I use in the full article. However some readers may want to compare the two versions of the essay, so I’m providing the first draft here.

Are We Becoming the Eloi?

In H.G. Wells’ The Time Machine, the Eloi occupy a distant future where humanity has, ostensibly, solved all material hardship. They laze in sunlit architecture, eat fruit, play, and live without work — carefree in their quotidian existence but frighteningly hollow in their capacities for curiosity and resilience. Over thousands of years of ease, they have devolved into a species that can barely fend for itself, dependent on the subterranean Morlocks for food, clothing, shelter, and even safety. Wells’ grotesque future serves as a caution against complacency, inequality, and the seductive illusions of technological progress. The question now is less about speculative evolution and more about whether we, in the twenty-first century, are sliding down that same evolutionary slope — into a kind of real-world Eloi-ness.

The Eloi and the Modern Soul

Wells’ Eloi are not merely idle; they lack intellectual curiosity, physical strength, and any meaningful connection to the systems that sustain them. They are the elegant unwashed, unaware that their comfort is the product of unseen labour — the Morlocks’. In The Time Machine, this absence of challenge corrodes their faculties, leaving them childlike and helpless. Their bodies, their minds, and their instincts have atrophied in the absence of need or struggle. This is a chilling image: not merely of laziness, but of degeneration in the philosophical sense — of potential atrophy where capability once lived. (Wikipedia)

At first glance, the parallels to twenty-first-century societies might seem hyperbolic. After all, few of us lack agency outright, and we remain painfully aware of the world’s injustices. Yet, when one looks closely at the interplay between technology and human behaviour today, the metaphor resonates with surprising precision.

Automation and the Loss of Agency

One of the prominent trends of our age is the exponential growth of automation. Machines and algorithms now perform tasks that once defined the substance of human labour: driving, diagnosing diseases, managing finances, even composing music. What was once the domain of specialised tradespeople or rigorous study is now routine output from digital systems. This explosion of automation brings efficiency and convenience — but also an attendant loss of direct engagement with the processes themselves.

Consider the average smartphone user: for most tasks, we never see the mechanics beneath the interface. We swipe, tap, ask an AI, and receive a result. If a system fails, many users are helpless — unable to perform even basic tasks without the intermediary of a screen or app. The analogy to the Eloi begins to crystallise: a population adept at consuming results but alienated from the meanings and processes that produce them. (Mental Health America)

This distance from the underlying systems is not merely a matter of convenience, but of cognitive consequence. The sociologist David Collingridge articulated a dilemma in technology governance: by the time the impact of a technology is evident, it has become so embedded that changing or controlling it becomes difficult. In effect, we trade agency for ease, and the psychological fallout of this trade — the sense that we are passengers rather than drivers — cannot be ignored. (Wikipedia)

Dependency and the Tech Ecosystem

This loss of agency is mirrored in how younger generations relate to technology. Studies from mental health research show that heavy reliance on digital devices and platforms is nearly ubiquitous among young people near adulthood, with a majority reporting a heavy dependence on technology for everyday functions — from social connection to information to entertainment. (Mental Health America)

Some research suggests this dependency is correlated with higher anxiety and emotional distress — not because technology causes mental illness in a simple, direct way, but because compulsive use, constant digital feedback loops, and the loss of control over habits and attention can amplify feelings of anxiety and instability. (Mental Health America)

Most strikingly, modern studies on adolescent screen use link addictive patterns of engagement — not merely hours spent but patterns of compulsive use — to emotional problems, suicidal ideation, and symptoms of anxiety and depression. These findings indicate not only psychological stress but an erosion of resilience and self-regulatory capabilities among youth deeply embedded in digital ecosystems. (The Guardian)

If Wells’ Eloi succumbed to ease and lost their capacities over generations, modern society — especially among young people — is showing hints of that same pattern in behavioural trends: from diminished abilities to persist without external stimuli, to emotional fragility when devices are absent, to a reliance on automated systems rather than independent problem-solving.

The Illusion of Comfort

But here the analogy must be sharpened rather than stretched: we have not (yet) become feeble, incapable hominids. We have, however, cultivated layers of comfort that insulate us from hardship in ways that could subtly reshape character and capability. For the Eloi, every challenge had been abolished by generations of ease; for us, many challenges have been outsourced to technologies that mediate nearly every aspect of life.

As digital assistants manage our calendars, AI tools draft our text, automated systems handle logistics, and apps adapt our environments, the experience of mastering the world recedes. We may gain time in one sphere, but we lose depth in another. Without necessity, struggle becomes optional — and without struggle, the psychological mechanisms that build resilience, critical thought, and emotional strength are underused.

A telling metaphor is our response to technological failure. When our internet goes down, many of us feel not irritation — but panic. A glitch in the GPS can leave us disoriented, not because we lack curiosity, but because we have surrendered our navigational instincts to silicon. This isn’t just convenience — it’s a surrender of agency. (vida.id)

The Mental Landscape of a Digitally Infused Generation

Psychological research suggests that this isn’t an entirely imagined concern. Longitudinal studies show increases in anxiety and depressive symptoms among adolescents in recent years, often concurrent with heavy digital device use and the pressures of online social ecosystems. (Mental Health America)

These associations aren’t simple causal chains — technology doesn’t create mental illness — but the context of addiction-like patterns, comparison-driven social media, and feedback loops tailored for maximum engagement has reshaped the emotional environment in which young people develop. In some respects, what we’re witnessing is not the loss of ability, but the erosion of confidence, presence, and internal grounding: psychological analogues to the Eloi’s loss of survival muscle.

Agency as Antidote

Yet the comparison to the Eloi also reminds us that sheer ease alone does not determine destiny; social context, economic structures, and deliberate choice matter enormously. Wells’ Eloi were isolated on the surface, dependent without awareness of their dependence. By contrast, we remain deeply aware of both the benefits and risks of our technologies.

We debate automation ethics, AI governance, digital addiction, and the dangers of data concentration. We ask whether curricula should teach resilience alongside computational thinking. The very existence of these debates suggests that we are not passive participants in our own evolution — a distinction the Eloi never had. In fiction, the Eloi don’t know what they don’t know. In reality, we are increasingly conscious of our dependencies, anxieties, and the psychological costs of technological integration.

Moreover, human agency is more than the ability to perform tasks. It is the capacity for reflection, for choosing how and why we use tools — and it’s this capacity that remains at the forefront of the discourse around technology, education, and societal development.

Conclusion: A Call to Avoid Eloi-ness

To be an Eloi is not simply to be comfortable; it is to be unaware of the foundations that sustain comfort. That unawareness is the true loss Wells warns against. In many ways, our contemporary moment is not yet that dystopia. We still think, we still worry, we still debate our tools and our futures.

But there is a risk that, without intentional engagement, that awareness could be lost. If we outsource too much of the work of thinking, acting, and navigating life to machines and algorithms, the subtle atrophy of resilience and self-direction could accelerate. Becoming the Eloi would not happen overnight — it is a generational drift, a quiet disengagement from the challenges that shape thought and character.

If we are to avoid that fate, the antidote lies not in rejecting technology, but in reclaiming agency: teaching skills not just of operation but of understanding; cultivating resilience alongside intelligence; and ensuring that the comforts of automation do not become the cocoon that dulls our capacities rather than enabling our potential.

]]> https://www.andrewj.com/blog/2026/are-we-becoming-the-eloi-the-academic-version/feed/ 0 https://www.andrewj.com/blog/2026/evolution-of-an-image/ https://www.andrewj.com/blog/2026/evolution-of-an-image/#respond Wed, 11 Feb 2026 16:56:03 +0000 https://www.andrewj.com/blog/?p=2975 My photography mentor, Bob Kiss, recently posted an image of his, taken in Tuscany, of a Tuscan field scene shot through a window, with the light carefully balanced so that you can clearly see both the exterior, and the interior … Continue reading →]]>

My photography mentor, Bob Kiss, recently posted an image of his, taken in Tuscany, of a Tuscan field scene shot through a window, with the light carefully balanced so that you can clearly see both the exterior, and the interior around the window. It immediately reminded me of a not dissimilar shot I took many years ago, at the Fish Pot in Barbados.

While Bob’s shot is relatively recent, and took advantage of modern sensor technology and computational corrections, mine was taken using the Canon 40D. That was a 10 megapixel beast new in 2007, which offered what should charitably be described as a somewhat limited dynamic range, so I had to expose three bracketed shots, and combine them using HDR software. This was the result:

Original HDR image (Show Details)

Camera: Canon EOS 40D | Date: 28-04-2008 17:09 | ISO: 200 | Exp. Time: 1/159s | Aperture: 11.0 | Focal Length: 17.0mm (~27.6mm)

The 40D was an APS-C format camera and at the time my best “normal” lens was the 17-85mm, equivalent of about 27mm at the wide end. This forced upon me a less than ideal high shooting position which generated a geometry with diverging verticals. Fortunately even in 2008 Photoshop could do a suitable geometric correction which at least straightened up the window and horizon:

Adjusted HDR Image (Show Details)

Camera: Canon EOS 40D | Date: 28-04-2008 17:09 | Resolution: 2520 x 3707 | ISO: 200 | Exp. Time: 1/159s | Aperture: 11.0 | Focal Length: 17.0mm (~27.6mm)

That’s not bad, but if you look carefully you can see that the image has a typical “early HDR” feel, with soft details, muddy colours, and noticeable coloured fringes along sharp edges courtesy of the 17-85mm’s significant chromatic aberration. Bob’s post therefore got me thinking about how my image might look with modern processing.

Fortunately I had kept the original RAW files, so it was the work of moments to open them up in Capture One. The latter immediately improves matters with its “HDR” shadow and highlight recovery, and allows me to work with just the central image of the bracketed set, so goodbye to composite HDR. Capture One also has correction for the lens’s chromatic aberrations, and allows me to apply the required geometric correction non-destructively. This is the output image:

Central image processed with Capture One (Show Details)

Camera: Canon EOS 40D | Lens: EF-S17-85mm f/4-5.6 IS USM | Date: 28-04-2008 17:09 | Resolution: 2491 x 3737 | ISO: 200 | Exp. bias: 0 EV | Exp. Time: 1/40s | Aperture: 11.0 | Focal Length: 17.0mm (~27.6mm) | Lens: Canon EF-S 17-85mm f4-5.6 IS USM

That’s a major step forward. However pixel peeping reveals that the image is still not as sharp as would be ideal, and despite being shot at ISO 200 has noticeable noise in the darker areas. There’s also the compositional issue of the power socket half visible behind my Pina Colada. Fortunately we can also pass the image through Topaz Photo AI. It volunteered sharpening, and I also applied its denoise technology. I then went into its “remove” function and highlighted the half socket. This is the result:

Central image reprocessed with 2026 software (Show Details)

Camera: Canon EOS 40D | Lens: EF-S17-85mm f/4-5.6 IS USM | Date: 28-04-2008 17:09 | Resolution: 2491 x 3737 | ISO: 200 | Exp. bias: 0 EV | Exp. Time: 1/40s | Aperture: 11.0 | Focal Length: 17.0mm (~27.6mm) | Lens: Canon EF-S 17-85mm f4-5.6 IS USM

I love the way this “pops”, and we’ve got rid of the compositional compromises. I’d be happy with this image if I took it today with a modern camera and much more expensive lens. Ideally I would actually have to hand a wider lens which would allow me to get the whole of the right shutter in shot, but I can live with it.

This is great news for cases like this, but it’s amazing news for cases where the old image can no longer be recreated, because the people or architecture have moved on. So if you have in your collection images of which you’re fond but which are technically limited, and you still have the RAW files, try reprocessing them. The results may be wonderful.

]]> https://www.andrewj.com/blog/2026/evolution-of-an-image/feed/ 0 https://www.andrewj.com/blog/2026/the-unhelpful-amp-hour/ https://www.andrewj.com/blog/2026/the-unhelpful-amp-hour/#respond Fri, 23 Jan 2026 12:59:28 +0000 https://www.andrewj.com/blog/?p=2968 I spent much of the last few years working on a large company’s Net Zero project, within which a significant element of my role was trying to educate people to understand electrical power and emissions calculations. It was hard enough … Continue reading →]]>

I spent much of the last few years working on a large company’s Net Zero project, within which a significant element of my role was trying to educate people to understand electrical power and emissions calculations.

It was hard enough training those without much scientific background to understand power in Watts, energy in Watt-hours, and their various standard multiples in SI units. At least the relationship between power and energy is a straightforward one.

However once we started talking about energy stored in and used from batteries, we encountered a whole new level of complexity. That’s because contrary to common sense, battery drain and capacity are almost always quoted not in Watts and Watt-Hours, but in Amps and Amp-Hours. Amp-hours (Ah) are a measure of the current flowing through a circuit, multiplied by (or, strictly, integrated over) time. If a steady current of 1 Amp flows for 1 hour, that’s one Amp-hour. If that circuit consuming 1A is powered by a battery marked 10Ah, then you know the battery should be able to power it for 10 hours.

So far so good. If you know the current drain, and everything runs at the same voltage, you can do these calculations easily. Older car electrics which all work at 12V are a standard example. Then there’s a great sequence in Apollo 13 where Ken Mattingly (played by Gary Sinise) sits in the simulator and experiments with sequences to wake up the stricken craft to find one which fits the capacity and the maximum current of the usable fuel cells, using just an ammeter.

The Amp-hour model breaks down

Unfortunately it all rapidly breaks down in our modern world of multiple battery technologies, with varying loads and voltages.

Here’s a simple example. I have a powerbank battery, which is marked 20Ah. I want to use it on a trip to recharge my drone batteries. According to Google the DJI Mini 3 Pro uses batteries with a 2453 mAh (≈ 2.5Ah) capacity. How many batteries can I recharge, and how long should it take?

You might think that the answer to the number of batteries is 20/2.5 = 8. But it’s not that, or anything remotely like it. That’s because the quoted Amp-hour figure is "at a certain voltage". Change the voltage and you change the Amp-hour capacity.

If you’re not sure about this, think about two AAA cells each with about 1Ah capacity. Wire them up in series and you get a voltage of 3V, but only 1Ah can flow (the same current flows simultaneously through both). Wire them in parallel with a switch between them, the output voltage is 1.5V but you’ll get 1Ah out of each in turn, so 2Ah in total.

The problem with the powerbank and drone batteries is they have different native voltages, and 1Ah therefore represents a different amount of power in each case.

OK, so I’ve convinced you that we should think about power/energy rather than current. Well Power = Voltage * Current, so that should be easy, right?

Sadly not. Google helpfully confirms that "the DJI Mini 3 Pro uses 7.38V Li-ion Intelligent Flight Batteries, with a maximum charge voltage of 8.5V". So what voltage should we use? 7.38V, 8.5V, something in between? Fortunately a bit more Googling confirms that that the batteries have an energy capacity of 18.1 Wh, so working backwards we get a voltage of 18.1 / 2.453 = 7.38, so that’s the right one, but you could easily get it wrong.

It gets even more confusing with the powerbank. They don’t sell exactly the same model any longer, but the closest replacement supports output voltages of 4.5V, 5V, 9V and 12V. At which of these voltages is the Ah figure quoted? It turns out to be none of them. Hidden away in the 2pt text in pale grey on the bottom of the battery is the capacity in energy terms, 74Wh. Working backwards, that tells us that the Ah figure is quoted at 74 / 20 = 3.7V, which isn’t actually an output voltage. In this case we’re entirely dependent on the battery manufacturer providing a Wh figure. In fairness to Romoss their newer adverts all do, but they still use the almost meaningless Ah number as the "hero" figure. Many other manufacturers don’t bother – I couldn’t find a Wh figure for any of a random sample on Amazon.

Now we have two energy figures in Wh, we can finally answer my first question. The ratio between powerbank capacity and drone battery capacity is 74 / 18 = 4.1. It’s not actually going to be that good, because charging one battery from another is nowhere near 100% efficient, but 3 charges might be achievable, and that’s what I saw in practice.

The "how long should it take" question is a bit more tricky, as we don’t know exactly what voltage the two batteries will negotiate over USB-C. 9V is closest to the 7.4V of the DJI batteries, and Romoss also usefully state that the powerbank can deliver 2.2A at that voltage. A full charge is 18Wh. 9V x 2.2A is about 20Wh, but let’s assume about 75% efficiency like with the capacity figures. That suggests a full charge time of just over an hour, again matching my experience.

Another example

Once you’re alert to all this you find other examples everywhere. I have a number of Wifi-enabled water detectors in the house. I noticed that immediately after putting in freshly-charged Duracell rechargeable batteries, they report a battery level of ~67%, and the batteries don’t last as long as expected. Why?

The answer is that 1.5V does not equal 1.5V. Well it does, but what different manufacturers and technologies deliver as a "1.5V" battery varies widely.

Out with my trusty AVO meter, like me in its 7th decade, and still running on its original battery. Impressive. Let’s look at 3 AA cells in my battery drawer:

• Duracell NiMH rechargeable battery. Output 1.3V unloaded. Stated capacity 2500mAh @1.2V, so energy capacity 2.5 * 1.2 = 3Wh
• Varta Longlife alkaline battery. Output 1.5V. Published capacity 2750mAh, so energy capacity 1.5 * 2.75 = 4.1Wh
• Hixon Li-ion battery. Output 1.5V. Stated capacity 3500mAh, so energy capacity 1.5 * 3.5 = 5.25Wh

Clearly the combination of low voltage and low capacity of the NiMH batteries explains their relatively short life between charges. Unfortunately the Li-ion batteries are dramatically more expensive and I’ve had a few reliability issues, otherwise they’d solve a lot of problems.

Is the Amp-hour completely useless?

Current is easy to measure. Almost as soon as we’d realised that current flowing through a coil produces a magnetic field, we added a magnet and a spring and created a meter which could measure current. Add a resistor, and you could measure voltage. Add some diodes and a capacitor and you could do the same tricks with alternating current.

Power is much more difficult to measure directly. In reality most of the time we measure current and (if we don’t know it) voltage and do the multiplication sum.

If you’re working with a sealed system then current and Amp-hour figures may be good enough. As I noted above, generations of electricians have operated that way. For a lot of purposes I don’t care what the voltage of my phone’s battery is: I can see the current drain over time with an app like AccuBattery, and I can work out how that matches the battery’s capacity in Ah. However as soon as you have to interface with external elements (e.g. "how many times can my powerbank charge my phone?") this breaks down.

Unfortunately the market is following tradition, in an environment where the tradition is no longer applicable. Why do powerbank manufacturers think it’s acceptable to quote an Amp-hour capacity tied to a mysterious internal voltage which isn’t even one of the options on the output? As a start, let’s try to quote stored energy figures in Wh as well, but in time they should become the primary figure, with the Ah consigned to a secondary role.

]]> https://www.andrewj.com/blog/2026/the-unhelpful-amp-hour/feed/ 0 https://www.andrewj.com/blog/2026/just-get-on-the-train-updated-again/ https://www.andrewj.com/blog/2026/just-get-on-the-train-updated-again/#respond Fri, 02 Jan 2026 11:25:48 +0000 https://www.andrewj.com/blog/?p=2965 Do you prefer drama where they talk about getting on a train, or where they actually have to do it? I’ve just updated my list of “getting on a train” films: https://www.andrewj.com/blog/2012/just-get-on-the-train/. Have a laugh, and see if you think … Continue reading →]]>

Do you prefer drama where they talk about getting on a train, or where they actually have to do it? I’ve just updated my list of “getting on a train” films: https://www.andrewj.com/blog/2012/just-get-on-the-train/. Have a laugh, and see if you think I’ve missed any obvious ones…

]]> https://www.andrewj.com/blog/2026/just-get-on-the-train-updated-again/feed/ 0 https://www.andrewj.com/blog/2025/review-a-house-of-dynamite/ https://www.andrewj.com/blog/2025/review-a-house-of-dynamite/#respond Sun, 26 Oct 2025 11:22:38 +0000 https://www.andrewj.com/blog/?p=2960 Warning: contains spoilers. I had been looking forward to Kathryn Bigelow’s new film for Netflix, A House of Dynamite. On the face of it this should be exactly our sort of film. Vantage Point, the 2008 film which shows an … Continue reading →]]>

Warning: contains spoilers.

I had been looking forward to Kathryn Bigelow’s new film for Netflix, A House of Dynamite. On the face of it this should be exactly our sort of film. Vantage Point, the 2008 film which shows an attempted assassination of an American President from multiple perspectives is a firm favourite. A House of Dynamite promised to be something not dissimilar in structure, with the twist of portraying the challenges of decision-making in the heat of an active nuclear strike.

The film promised to be story and character-focused and therefore ideally suited to Bigelow’s directorial style and the constraints of TV films with their limited budget for action, special effects and location. Unfortunately what results is a phenomenally boring plodding procedural in which the characters fail to behave in a professional manner as one hopes their real counterparts would do, and everything is left unresolved by a "non-ending".

Unlike Vantage Point which carries on past the shooting and explosion to complete the story, this film just stops, short of the missile’s impact. We never learn what happens next, or why. I understand that the writers and director were trying to focus on the challenges of making crucial decisions under extreme pressure and with limited information, but in reality those decisions would wait on at least confirming that a real bomb has exploded.

The story never proceeds past the first, lone missile. We don’t even know if it actually hits, or actually explodes when it does so. There is some discussion about the urgency of deciding on a retaliatory strategy, but given the uncertainties including who fired the missile and under what political or military orders one can’t help thinking that in reality one would wait until some of that uncertainty had been resolved. It’s shown that the US already has its planes and submarines ready to respond and waiting until more information was in place would not preclude a response if one were required.

There’s no real attempt to resolve the origin or purpose of the strike, which to my mind is critical to the response decision process. We’re told as a plot device that somehow US surveillance missed the actual launch, but surely it should be possible to trace the trajectory back? Can nothing be deduced from the flight path characteristics? Is there any useful signals or human intelligence?

To my mind the options include:

1. Genuine first strike sanctioned by the regime of Russia, China or North Korea. This seems unlikely as there’s no obvious motive, and the characters don’t discuss any geopolitical context which might explain it. Also surely more than one missile would be launched, and there would surely be a more obvious attempt to disable the US ability to respond. Also destroying a major US city guarantees a massive response in the way a lesser or military target might not. Given the uncertainty about the origin, against whom do you respond? There’s literally no evidence for this option, and hence no justification for the "bomb everybody" response that the military characters are suggesting.
2. Official but dummy strike to probe US capabilities, readiness and resolve. In this scenario the missile either destructs a few miles short of Chicago or makes a large but harmless splash in Lake Michigan. A lesser response is required, and you still need to work out against whom.
3. Deliberate launch by terrorists or rogue elements acting independent of main regimes. We are shown the Russian foreign ministry desperately trying to say "it’s not us" and told China is saying something similar, which supports this option. Unlike in Crimson Tide or Hunter Killer there’s no background context such as a Russian insurgency to support this explanation. Again if this is the case it demands a more measured response, and you need to work out against whom.
4. Accidental launch, due to either a human or technical failure. This is a horrible possibility. Yet again any response has to wait until you understand the outcome of the impact and the missile’s origin.

I don’t know how accurate a portrayal the film is of the process under which the president would make a decision about a response, but you can’t see even President Trump making a snap decision to simultaneously attack all America’s enemies and start WW3 without more information.

Some other plot devices are also not credible. The president is hurried onto Marine One, a large helicopter in perfect condition, but is accompanied only by the army officer with the nuclear football. What happens to the president’s assistants and advisers who were also at the basketball game and might be able to help analyse the situation?

The isolation of the president is enhanced by unrealistic comms issues. We’re shown one of the National Security Advisers joining the central call by video from a phone even as he’s running around Washington and going through security, but the president is restricted to a poor quality audio-only link from The Beast and Marine One. The vast White House machine is unable to patch calls together, so more junior characters have to take key calls and then relay to more senior characters third hand. Really?

A very surprising number of central characters behave in completely unprofessional ways, having breakdowns, focusing on personal considerations rather than their duties, even committing suicide. At one point Rebecca Ferguson’s character, who is in charge of the situation room, sends her deputy out to fetch personal mobile phones from their lockers. You think maybe she’s come up with a cunning solution to the problems with the White House phone system but no, she makes a personal call and he stands catatonic scrolling through pictures of his family. While it is certainly true that not everyone would live up to the expectations of their role, these people are chosen and trained to do so and you would hope more would get on with it.

This film is a complete waste of an opportunity and a strong cast. If I had paid to see it at the cinema I’d be wanting my money back. Fortunately it’s part of my Netflix subscription, which is currently otherwise good value, but it was still a frustrating waste of my time.

]]> https://www.andrewj.com/blog/2025/review-a-house-of-dynamite/feed/ 0 https://www.andrewj.com/blog/2025/adjustable-architecture-and-minimising-waste/ https://www.andrewj.com/blog/2025/adjustable-architecture-and-minimising-waste/#respond Sat, 25 Oct 2025 11:04:25 +0000 https://www.andrewj.com/blog/?p=2955 Rescue, Don’t Replace One of the things which attracted us to our house about 30 years ago was a great feature: what is known as a “Chinese Circle” in the courtyard end wall, which provides a view into, from and … Continue reading →]]>

Rescue, Don’t Replace

One of the things which attracted us to our house about 30 years ago was a great feature: what is known as a “Chinese Circle” in the courtyard end wall, which provides a view into, from and through the courtyard from both the house and the garden. We place sculptures so they are viewed through it, we light it at Christmas, it’s very much part of what makes our house.

Unfortunately a few years after we moved in, it became apparent that the original wall had not been built very strongly and was in some danger of collapse. Therefore about 25 years ago we had it rebuilt. We contracted a local builder who agreed a much stronger double-thickness structure, plus what we hoped were adequate, larger foundations.

While the wall itself was impressively strong, we’re on clay and over the years it became clear that with each cycle of wet and then hot weather the foundations were moving slightly. In recent years this accelerated, with the wall moving by several millimetres this summer and getting to the point where there was some risk of collapse. The wall itself was still stable and uncracked, it was just leaning into the garden, as a whole, by about 5°.

The Leaning Wall of Effingham (Show Details)

Camera: SONY DSC-RX100M7 | Date: 16-08-2025 11:51 | Resolution: 3648 x 5472 | ISO: 100 | Exp. bias: -0.7 EV | Exp. Time: 1/100s | Aperture: 5.6 | Focal Length: 14.4mm (~39.0mm)

Knowing the wall was still stable I approached several subsidence specialists. They made it very clear they were not interested in such a small job, claiming that the simplest solution was to knock the wall down and rebuild it. We approached a reputable local builder who said very much the same thing: he was happy to provide a quote for rebuilding, at enormous cost, but when we pressed him for a quote to stabilise it he basically refused, by providing a quote effectively no different to the rebuild option.

Apart from the impact on our finances this just felt wrong and wasteful. Other things aside, a rebuild would require at least £1000 worth of new bricks, with the existing ones being disposed of as rubble. The wall was strong and undamaged apart from leaning. Even if it could not be fully righted, it would be acceptable to just stabilise and support it where it was. Why was no-one prepared to do that?

With another local builder Frances and I came up with the idea of creating two steel buttresses to stabilise the wall in place. We were quite keen on the option, but it became apparent that his steel fabricator was going to charge a fortune to make up the buttresses, and we’d pay a lot of money for an aesthetically questionable part solution.

Just as we were in danger of exhausting the local directories, we were introduced to friend of a friend Tomasz and his team of Polish builders. Initially he wanted to quote for a rebuild, but when pressed he agreed that it should be possible to jack the wall back nearly vertical, and then underpin it. The quote to do so wasn’t much more than half the rebuild option, he was able to start almost immediately, and we almost bit his hand off.

On the anointed day up turned a team of Polish chaps with shovels and a tiny digger, who proceeded to dig two deep trenches either side of the wall. I was a little afraid that it would collapse during this process but with strategically placed props and wooden supports it they managed to keep it all in place.

The first attempt at jacking used two steel props with contact points halfway up the wall. This quickly reduced the lean angle by about half, but we were concerned that the wall might crack at its base if the wall moved and the foundation didn’t. We were prepared to stabilise the wall at the new position, but the Polish guys went back to digging and created a new structure in which two smaller jacks could be used to twist the foundation itself.

The next challenge was finding the right jacks. They had one small hydraulic jack, pretty good, and a bunch of modern car jacks which were clearly not going to work. However I rummaged in the back of my garage and found a bottle jack rescued from an old Ford Transit in the 1970s which turned out to be exactly the right piece of equipment. Twenty minutes of careful jacking on the foundation twisted it with the wall intact, and we had a perfectly straight wall again.

My faith in the strength of the wall was fully vindicated – it didn’t crack or warp at all.

The rest of the process was straightforward albeit physically hard work, progressively digging by hand and pouring extended foundations which were wider and deeper than the old one.

We decided to cap off the new structure by building two brick buttresses on the garden side of the wall. While not strictly required because the wall is still uncracked and now vertical they enhance the look of it and make sure if there is any cracking right at the base of the wall it won’t compromise the solution. Tomasz procured 100 matching bricks, and I was given the task of coming up with a design for their use in the buttresses. My design used 98 of them. We also needed to cap off the top bricks, the dimples of which would otherwise collect water. I came up with the solution of creating porcelain tile caps, and then impressed the guys by getting out my own electric tile cutter, and making the required caps from a single yellow floor tile left over from our 2006 bathroom refit.

Brick Buttresses (Show Details)

Camera: SONY DSC-RX100M7 | Date: 19-10-2025 09:12 | Resolution: 3648 x 3648 | ISO: 100 | Exp. bias: -0.7 EV | Exp. Time: 1/40s | Aperture: 5.0 | Focal Length: 11.1mm (~30.0mm)

Overall the process took an average of two men just over a week. The bill was under 2/3 of the cheapest rebuild quote. The excavated clay had to be removed from site, but otherwise there was zero waste, apart from two spare bricks!

The guys tidied up and disappeared, making good so well you’d never know they’d been there. The next day we watched an episode of “Grand Designs” in which the house was pre-fabricated 200 miles away from the plot, and moved as completed modules which were craned onto waiting foundations. Although the process was relatively painless, it was enormously expensive, and there were a few points where the prefabricated structure had to be hacked about with axes and chisels to accommodate unexpected service positions, which just felt wrong. Essentially the structure didn’t allow adjustment.

Good architecture should be accessible and adjustable. I’ve always believed in this for both the software I have designed in my professional career, and the hardware solutions I have developed for our living space. For example, I make sure that pipes and wires run in accessible spaces, and allow for change. However I’ve usually accepted that this might not be possible with the lower levels of physical architecture, the “Structure” layer of the Frank Duffy / Stewart Brand model.

Now I’m not so sure. We stuck to our guns, and we adjusted a brick wall!

 

With a big dziękuję to Tomasz, Rafal and Artur.

]]> https://www.andrewj.com/blog/2025/adjustable-architecture-and-minimising-waste/feed/ 0 https://www.andrewj.com/blog/2025/acceptable-update-strategies/ https://www.andrewj.com/blog/2025/acceptable-update-strategies/#respond Sat, 20 Sep 2025 09:55:09 +0000 https://www.andrewj.com/blog/?p=2945 Excellent Example: Microsoft Visual Studio. You finish your work, and when you exit from Visual Studio, it prompts you with “Updates are available, would you like to install them now?”. There are Yes and Cancel (= defer to next time) … Continue reading →]]>

Excellent

Example: Microsoft Visual Studio. You finish your work, and when you exit from Visual Studio, it prompts you with “Updates are available, would you like to install them now?”. There are Yes and Cancel (= defer to next time) options.

Good

Examples: Idea IntelliJ, Topaz Photo. While you are working the program checks for updates in the background. If they are available it shows a subtle notification which does not get in the way of your work. When convenient, you click on the notification to start the installation process.

Also Good

Example: Windows Update. A background process detects available upgrades which are silently installed while you work. If they can be completed without interrupting usage, that’s done. If not they are deferred until either you choose to reboot the machine, or it can be done automatically when not in use.

Acceptable, Most of the Time

Example: Microsoft Office 365. A background process detects available upgrades, which are silently installed while you work. Occasionally there’s an annoying notification that Office needs to be closed down for a short period to complete installation, but you have the option to defer.

Wholly Unacceptable

Examples: most meeting and messaging apps. You go into the software just before your meeting. It looks for updates and if they are available starts to install them. There is no option to defer.

Why, just why?

]]> https://www.andrewj.com/blog/2025/acceptable-update-strategies/feed/ 0 https://www.andrewj.com/blog/2025/i-wuz-there/ https://www.andrewj.com/blog/2025/i-wuz-there/#respond Tue, 19 Aug 2025 08:22:51 +0000 https://www.andrewj.com/blog/?p=2939 I don’t think anyone took a single photograph of me in Zimanga, apart from the group shot which I initiated, so I made damn’ sure that there were some photos of me in Mongolia. Fortunately not only did other members … Continue reading →]]>

I don’t think anyone took a single photograph of me in Zimanga, apart from the group shot which I initiated, so I made damn’ sure that there were some photos of me in Mongolia. Fortunately not only did other members of the group oblige, but our excellent guides Oyu and Bayar also took copious record shots which they have shared. Enjoy!

Andrew and Eagle Hunter at Tolbo Nuur (Show Details)

Camera: Panasonic DC-G9M2 | Date: 01-08-2025 19:15 | Resolution: 5851 x 3657 | ISO: 100 | Exp. bias: -66/100 EV | Exp. Time: 1/80s | Aperture: 6.3 | Focal Length: 12.0mm (~26.0mm) | Location: Tolbo Nuur | State/Province: Chzhirgalantu-Sagsay-Somon, Baya | See map | Lens: LUMIX G VARIO 12-35/F2.8II

Andrew and Eagle Hunter at Tolbo Nuur (Show Details)

Andrew on rockat Baga Gadzrïn Chuluu (Show Details)

Andrew at sunset at Baga Gadzrïn Chuluu (Show Details)

The group with eagle hunters (Show Details)

]]> https://www.andrewj.com/blog/2025/i-wuz-there/feed/ 0 https://www.andrewj.com/blog/2025/the-worlds-worst-panorama-2025/ https://www.andrewj.com/blog/2025/the-worlds-worst-panorama-2025/#respond Wed, 13 Aug 2025 10:09:26 +0000 https://www.andrewj.com/blog/?p=2933 Here’s my now-obligatory group panorama for the 2025 Mongolia trip. From the left: Vince, Oyu, Mike, Yours Truly, Denise, Marco, Bayar, Ebu, Yasmin, Ann, Lee, Sarah, Christian, Steph Continue reading →]]>

Here’s my now-obligatory group panorama for the 2025 Mongolia trip.

From the left: Vince, Oyu, Mike, Yours Truly, Denise, Marco, Bayar, Ebu, Yasmin, Ann, Lee, Sarah, Christian, Steph

]]> https://www.andrewj.com/blog/2025/the-worlds-worst-panorama-2025/feed/ 0 https://www.andrewj.com/blog/2025/thirsty-friday/ https://www.andrewj.com/blog/2025/thirsty-friday/#respond Tue, 12 Aug 2025 06:59:57 +0000 https://www.andrewj.com/blog/?p=2928 Friday starts with another late breakfast. One could get used to this. The group then divides, several electing to stay around the hotel for the morning, but I join a group who go across town to a viewpoint which is … Continue reading →]]>

Friday starts with another late breakfast. One could get used to this. The group then divides, several electing to stay around the hotel for the morning, but I join a group who go across town to a viewpoint which is a good location for both still and drone photography.

Lee and Yasmin both fly their DJI Mavic drones, which are almost large enough to need a freight licence. They unpack them onto the mats, press “take off” and go. I launch my diminutive Mini 3 Pro, the size of a couple of packs of cigarettes, hoping for a similar low-friction experience, but no, I am apparently too close to the airport and need special permission!

Ebu, our guide who is a drone specialist, takes one look at the controller screen and just shakes his head, but he has reckoned without Andrew’s “dog with a bone” approach to being told something is not possible. It is an arcane process. I have to launch the drone and have it hovering to trigger the process, then I have to connect the controller to WiFi to fill in the registration, then I have to get a text on my phone, then I have to land the drone and disconnect WiFi for the authorisation to complete. By this time the drone’s battery is almost empty so I swap it out, take off and get the warning again, and have to repeat about 80% of the process…

To paraphrase Those Magnificent Men In Their Flying Machines: “Up, Down, No flying around…”

It is all worth the effort as Ebu then gives me a lesson on drone flying and I learn a few useful techniques. I get a couple of nice panoramas of the city, but in terms of the classic “pretty roofs” shot I think I prefer my shots from the incoming plane flight. Oh well.

Ulgii panorama (Show Details)

Camera: Panasonic DC-G9M2 | Date: 01-08-2025 11:38 | Resolution: 11519 x 3600 | ISO: 400 | Exp. bias: 0 EV | Exp. Time: 1/800s | Aperture: 8.0 | Focal Length: 15.0mm (~30.0mm) | Location: Ölgii | State/Province: Ölgii, Bayan-Ölgii Province | See map | Lens: LUMIX G VARIO 12-35/F2.8II

Flying into Ulgii Airport (Show Details)

Camera: SONY DSC-RX100M7 | Date: 30-07-2025 09:19 | Resolution: 4919 x 3074 | ISO: 100 | Exp. bias: -0.7 EV | Exp. Time: 1/1600s | Aperture: 4.0 | Focal Length: 10.0mm (~27.0mm) | Location: Ölgii Airport | State/Province: Ölgii, Bayan-Ölgii Province | See map

Lunch is at a Turkish restaurant. They don’t have beer. Fair enough, maybe they are Muslims. But then we work down the drinks list, and discover neither do they have coke, fresh-brewed tea, or bottled water! There’s no explanation, and we just end up sending one of the drivers out for water and coke. Very odd.

I opt to walk back from the restaurant to the hotel via the main shopping square, but it’s not a great success. I do find one shop with “tourist” T-shirts but they are all ghastly, horrible designs and not good quality. I may have to manufacture my own.

From the hotel we head south of Ulgii on a good paved road which takes us almost the whole way to a pretty lake surrounded by mountains, Lake Tolbo. There we are joined again by several of the first group of eagle hunters, who do a bit more “riding dramatically through the water”, and then we all climb a rocky outcrop to get photos of them in evening light with the dramatic scenery behind them.

Eagle hunter at Tolbo Nuur (Show Details)

Camera: Panasonic DC-G9M2 | Date: 01-08-2025 17:58 | Resolution: 3760 x 3760 | ISO: 160 | Exp. bias: 0 EV | Exp. Time: 1/400s | Aperture: 2.8 | Focal Length: 100.0mm (~200.0mm) | Location: Tolbo Nuur | State/Province: Chzhirgalantu-Sagsay-Somon, Baya | See map | Lens: LUMIX G VARIO 35-100/F2.8II

Eagle hunter at Tolbo Nuur (Show Details)

Camera: Panasonic DC-G9M2 | Date: 01-08-2025 18:04 | Resolution: 4187 x 4187 | ISO: 100 | Exp. bias: -33/100 EV | Exp. Time: 1/400s | Aperture: 4.5 | Focal Length: 35.0mm (~70.0mm) | Location: Tolbo Nuur | State/Province: Chzhirgalantu-Sagsay-Somon, Baya | See map | Lens: LUMIX G VARIO 35-100/F2.8II

We watch a dramatic sunset, then head back on the relatively short drive to town.

Tolbo Nuur (Show Details)

Camera: Panasonic DC-G9M2 | Date: 01-08-2025 20:07 | Resolution: 5466 x 3416 | ISO: 100 | Exp. bias: -66/100 EV | Exp. Time: 1/400s | Aperture: 5.6 | Focal Length: 56.0mm (~122.0mm) | Location: Tolbo Nuur | State/Province: Chzhirgalantu-Sagsay-Somon, Baya | See map | Lens: LUMIX G VARIO 35-100/F2.8II

At a different restaurant we hear a familiar refrain. No wine or beer, and we’re not allowed to bring any in. Apparently the local administration has decided that to fit with Muslim sensitivities Friday should be “dry”, alcohol free, like Sundays in Wales when I were a lad.

That’s fair enough, but things seem to have spiralled out of control and again we’re told they are now out of soft drinks and water. One of our drivers does the necessary, but this does seem like an odd consequence of the legislation. Either the restaurants are over-interpreting the rules as “no drinks”, or they are not managing things very well. Surely Friday arrives on a sufficiently predictable schedule that they could stock up?

Dinner is very tasty, but takes a long time to arrive, especially Yasmin’s pizza. That’s so late that it doesn’t all disappear, and I snaffle a couple of slices as an alternative to the execrable hotel breakfast. Back at the hotel I discover one last can of beer and head for the terrace, but sadly comms are down and no-one joins me. However it’s still a nice way to bid farewell to Ulgii.

]]> https://www.andrewj.com/blog/2025/thirsty-friday/feed/ 0 https://www.andrewj.com/blog/2025/cows-to-the-left-of-me-gers-to-the-right/ https://www.andrewj.com/blog/2025/cows-to-the-left-of-me-gers-to-the-right/#respond Wed, 06 Aug 2025 08:15:23 +0000 https://www.andrewj.com/blog/?p=2925 Lee must be losing his grip. We have a morning off! Most of us lie in for a late breakfast around 9, then spend the morning pottering. I walk out to try and find some shops, but completely miss the … Continue reading →]]>

Lee must be losing his grip. We have a morning off! Most of us lie in for a late breakfast around 9, then spend the morning pottering. I walk out to try and find some shops, but completely miss the main square although it’s only a few streets away. I do find one souvenir shop with very nice T-shirts, high quality with an attractive and properly printed design, but they only have them in small!

The services of the Makhsum Centre Hotel are, to be polite, a bit dodgy. Their breakfast has to be among the worst I have ever experienced, with bread which could be used as a construction material, and the two pairs of trousers I send to the laundry come back inside-out and rolled into a tight ball. The laundry ladies at the Heure Bleue Palais in Essaouira who not only pressed my underwear but put each pair into its own separate packet don’t have to worry about the competition.

After lunch we head up into the hills for our own private eagle hunting festival. This is a long-standing Kazakh tradition, in which the hunters tests the relative skills of themselves, their horses and their eagles through a series of events.

We do seem to have added one new event to the traditional set. First we meet up with some of the participants who engage in the new sport of "riding your horse with eagle through water for foreign photographers". All score well, but there is an active debate between the participants with cameras about positioning. First discussion is about choice of background, whether to have cows or gers in the background. We end up singing "Cows to the left of me, Gers to the right, here I am stuck in the middle with you!"

Eagle hunting festival (Show Details)

Camera: Panasonic DC-G9M2 | Date: 31-07-2025 16:23 | Resolution: 3468 x 4625 | ISO: 800 | Exp. bias: 0 EV | Exp. Time: 1/400s | Aperture: 14.0 | Focal Length: 100.0mm (~200.0mm) | Location: Sagsay sum | State/Province: Uujim, Bayan-�lgii Province | See map | Lens: LUMIX G VARIO 35-100/F2.8II

There’s also the question of how to frame the action. Most of the others are obsessed with getting a head-on shot, but I also revert to the sideways panning approach honed from polo and horse-boarding and get some great variations.

Eagle hunting festival (Show Details)

Camera: Panasonic DC-G9M2 | Date: 31-07-2025 15:58 | Resolution: 4353 x 4353 | ISO: 800 | Exp. bias: 0.33 EV | Exp. Time: 1/400s | Aperture: 11.0 | Focal Length: 64.0mm (~128.0mm) | Location: Sagsay sum | State/Province: Uujim, Bayan-�lgii Province | See map | Lens: LUMIX G VARIO 35-100/F2.8II

Up the hill, the festival is opened as traditional with a song, but we forgo the poetry competition, Just as well as I’m starting to wonder if we’re supposed to contribute, and if so how well "There was a young lady from Bude" will translate.

Eagle hunting festival opening ceremony (Show Details)

Camera: Panasonic DC-G9M2 | Date: 31-07-2025 17:02 | Resolution: 5389 x 3368 | ISO: 100 | Exp. bias: 0 EV | Exp. Time: 1/125s | Aperture: 6.3 | Focal Length: 35.0mm (~70.0mm) | Location: Sagsay sum | State/Province: Uujim, Bayan-Ölgii Province | See map | Lens: LUMIX G VARIO 35-100/F2.8II

The first events are tests of the eagles, timing them flying from the top of the nearest ridge to their master’s hand, and then to a moving lure towed behind the horse. The only slight problem is that this early in the season most of the eagles are too well fed, and the group only have one who’s in the right state of hunger. However after performing 3 times and getting 3 treats she is also well fed and visibly getting a bit bored.

Eagle hunting festival (Show Details)

Camera: Panasonic DC-G9M2 | Date: 31-07-2025 17:33 | Resolution: 3256 x 3256 | ISO: 800 | Exp. bias: 0 EV | Exp. Time: 1/1600s | Aperture: 7.1 | Focal Length: 400.0mm (~800.0mm) | Location: Sagsay sum | State/Province: Uujim, Bayan-�lgii Province | See map | Lens: LEICA DG 100-400/F4.0-6.3

The other sports challenge the horses and riders, and are better populated. They include a form of horse-borne tug of war, and a competition to pick up small bags of money while galloping past them at speed. Both competitions are won by the reigning local champion, a handsome chap in a pink shirt channelling a cross between Jason Momoa as Khal Drogo in Game of Thrones, and Oded Fehr as Ardeth Bay in The Mummy. Predictably the ladies all go gooey.

Eagle hunting festival – tug of war (Show Details)

Camera: Panasonic DC-G9M2 | Date: 31-07-2025 17:52 | Resolution: 4370 x 4370 | ISO: 400 | Exp. bias: -66/100 EV | Exp. Time: 1/500s | Aperture: 9.0 | Focal Length: 66.0mm (~132.0mm) | Location: Sagsay sum | State/Province: Uujim, Bayan-Ölgii Province | See map | Lens: LUMIX G VARIO 35-100/F2.8II

Eagle huting festival – picking up money (Show Details)

Camera: Panasonic DC-G9M2 | Date: 31-07-2025 18:03 | Resolution: 3993 x 2496 | ISO: 400 | Exp. bias: -33/50 EV | Exp. Time: 1/500s | Aperture: 9.0 | Focal Length: 100.0mm (~200.0mm) | Location: Sagsay sum | State/Province: Uujim, Bayan-�lgii Province | See map | Lens: LUMIX G VARIO 35-100/F2.8II

We engineer a further break with tradition by doing a whip-round and sending one of the drivers off to the village for beer. Excellent addition.

The eagle hunting festival may very well be the most intensive single shoot I’ve ever done. I captured 1330 images, around 57GB, but several of the team who left their cameras on high-speed mode are up at three or four times that number.

Eagle huting festival – picking up money (Show Details)

Camera: Panasonic DC-G9M2 | Date: 31-07-2025 18:02 | Resolution: 2116 x 2116 | ISO: 400 | Exp. bias: -33/50 EV | Exp. Time: 1/500s | Aperture: 9.0 | Focal Length: 100.0mm (~200.0mm) | Location: Sagsay sum | State/Province: Uujim, Bayan-�lgii Province | See map | Lens: LUMIX G VARIO 35-100/F2.8II

Once the sport is complete we have a series of portrait sessions, taking maximum advantage of the evening light, then it’s back to Ulgii for a late dinner. This is followed by a rather pleasant nightcap on the hotel’s roof terrace, using up the spare beer, plus a couple of bottles of wine for the ladies. Good day.

]]> https://www.andrewj.com/blog/2025/cows-to-the-left-of-me-gers-to-the-right/feed/ 0 https://www.andrewj.com/blog/2025/a-long-but-rewarding-day/ https://www.andrewj.com/blog/2025/a-long-but-rewarding-day/#respond Tue, 05 Aug 2025 08:18:58 +0000 https://www.andrewj.com/blog/?p=2921 We’re up before 4 to drive to the airport for the flight to Ulgii. Check-in and so on go very smoothly thanks to the experience of our guides, I’m not sure we would have navigated it without them. The airline … Continue reading →]]>

We’re up before 4 to drive to the airport for the flight to Ulgii. Check-in and so on go very smoothly thanks to the experience of our guides, I’m not sure we would have navigated it without them. The airline collect about £3 in excess baggage fees from me (and from most of the participants) but there’s a stupid system where this has to be paid right at the other end of the departures area, with no useful signage, just the guides’ help. At least Argentinian Airlines put the lady with the till right next to the check-in desk, much better.

The opportunities for retail therapy in Ulaanbaatar Airport’s domestic departure lounge are, to say the least, somewhat limited, but I do manage to negotiate purchase of a packet latte and use of the hot water boiler. The resultant drink is as white as snow, despite the packet confirming that it is at least intended to include coffee, but it’s sweet, wet and warm. The flight is very smooth. As we near the end I get a good aerial shot of a snow-covered mountain, not realising its significance for the day’s activities.

Aerial view of Mount Tsambagarav(Show Details)

Camera: SONY DSC-RX100M7 | Date: 30-07-2025 09:07 | Resolution: 5472 x 3420 | ISO: 100 | Exp. bias: -0.7 EV | Exp. Time: 1/1600s | Aperture: 4.0 | Focal Length: 25.9mm (~70.0mm) | Location: New Ulaanbaatar International Ai | State/Province: Buhuugiin Hural, Central Aimak | See map

Some cities are pretty close up even if they look disorganised from a distance. Ulgii belies the obvious nominative determinism by looking quite pretty as you fly in, courtesy of a mosaic of pastel-coloured tin roofs, but once you’re driving through it the old, decayed Soviet-era buildings and the massive amounts of new construction are both very visible.

We check into our hotel, get a bite of breakfast, and then hit the road. We have a 2.5 hour drive south to meet a family of eagle hunters. Although nomadic, they are usually to be found in the shadow of Mount Tsambagarav, the same snow-covered (and very sacred) peak I had photographed from the plane.

Askhabyl Shaimurat, Eagle Hunter (Show Details)

Camera: Panasonic DC-G9M2 | Date: 30-07-2025 17:51 | Resolution: 4336 x 4336 | ISO: 1600 | Exp. bias: -1 EV | Exp. Time: 1/60s | Aperture: 4.0 | Focal Length: 30.0mm (~62.0mm) | Location: Erget Gol | State/Province: Tsagaantüngi, Bayan-Ölgii Prov | See map | Lens: LUMIX G VARIO 12-35/F2.8II

We have lunch with the head of the family, Askhabyl Shaimurat, who answers our questions about their life and the culture of the eagle hunters, and then after lunch we alternate between a couple of portrait set-ups, and photographing a couple of the more active hunters doing action shots, riding through water with their eagles. As the sun goes down we all move up hill to capture our new friends in environmental portraits lit by the evening glow.

Eagle Hunter at Erget Gol (Show Details)

Camera: Panasonic DC-G9M2 | Date: 30-07-2025 19:39 | Resolution: 4375 x 4375 | ISO: 250 | Exp. bias: -66/100 EV | Exp. Time: 1/160s | Aperture: 6.3 | Focal Length: 62.0mm (~146.0mm) | Location: Erget Gol | State/Province: Tsagaantüngi, Bayan-Ölgii Prov | See map | Lens: LUMIX G VARIO 35-100/F2.8II

Eagle Hunter in front of Mount Tsambagarav (Show Details)

Camera: Panasonic DC-G9M2 | Date: 30-07-2025 19:49 | Resolution: 5955 x 3722 | ISO: 100 | Exp. bias: -1 EV | Exp. Time: 1/200s | Aperture: 6.3 | Focal Length: 45.0mm (~98.0mm) | Location: Erget Gol | State/Province: Tsagaantüngi, Bayan-Ölgii Prov | See map | Lens: LUMIX G VARIO 35-100/F2.8II

We wait until sundown, and then it’s another 2.5 hours back to the hotel, which we reach near midnight, Ulaanbaatar time. It’s been a very long and action packed day, but full of wonderful photographic opportunities with a great family.

Askhabyl Shaimurat, Eagle Hunter (Show Details)

Camera: Panasonic DC-G9M2 | Date: 30-07-2025 20:09 | Resolution: 4336 x 4336 | ISO: 800 | Exp. bias: -33/100 EV | Exp. Time: 1/125s | Aperture: 6.3 | Focal Length: 57.0mm (~134.0mm) | Location: Erget Gol | State/Province: Tsagaantüngi, Bayan-Ölgii Prov | See map | Lens: LUMIX G VARIO 35-100/F2.8II

]]> https://www.andrewj.com/blog/2025/a-long-but-rewarding-day/feed/ 0 https://www.andrewj.com/blog/2025/the-andrew-johnston-unintentional-desert-camouflage-masterclass-2025/ https://www.andrewj.com/blog/2025/the-andrew-johnston-unintentional-desert-camouflage-masterclass-2025/#respond Tue, 05 Aug 2025 08:14:56 +0000 https://www.andrewj.com/blog/?p=2918 See also the Iceland Camouflage Masterclass and Namib Desert Camouflage Masterclass Continue reading →]]>

See also the Iceland Camouflage Masterclass and Namib Desert Camouflage Masterclass

]]> https://www.andrewj.com/blog/2025/the-andrew-johnston-unintentional-desert-camouflage-masterclass-2025/feed/ 0 https://www.andrewj.com/blog/2025/a-custom-more-honoured-in-the-breach/ https://www.andrewj.com/blog/2025/a-custom-more-honoured-in-the-breach/#respond Sat, 02 Aug 2025 13:58:09 +0000 https://www.andrewj.com/blog/?p=2914 “‘Tis a custom more honoured in the breach than the observance” Driving on the right in Mongolia… After a relatively few hours’ sleep we’re up again for the short drive back to the Tsagaan Survarga cliffs. This time the photography … Continue reading →]]>

“‘Tis a custom more honoured in the breach than the observance”
Driving on the right in Mongolia…

With my digestive system playing fairly nicely I decide to join the morning shoot. Rendezvous time is set for 5.15. At 5.14 I walk into the car park as fast as my little legs, dodgy knees and metal hip will carry me, to see the jeeps pulling out! I have to wave dramatically to flag one down and get in. I know Lee’s trips don’t follow US Ranger principles, but this is a new extreme.

I needn’t have bothered. When we get to the location it’s blowing a gale, whipping up sand all around, and the light is very poor. Mike has his cameras protected by plastic bags and puts them down for a minute, and by the time he picks them up they are already covered in sand. We cut our losses, thank our models (at least the human ones), and head back to breakfast.

After breakfast we pack up and set out on the first stage of the long drive back, which we plan to break near the canyon at Tsagaan Survarga.

Lunch is taken at a Korean restaurant where for the first time in the trip we are met by customer-facing staff who have both very limited English and non-existent customer-handling skills. I get a beer, but the girl on the till is unable to either make the right amount from the various notes I offer, or make change, or explain the problem. Eventually one of the guides has to bale me out and I pay with a card, but then have to persuade the girl to return the correct notes I already passed her. I’m sure there’s no intent – the Mongolians I have met are all scrupulously accurate and polite in their dealings with me – but it does suggest that the restaurant needs to work on their staffing policies. On a positive note the soup I have ordered is tasty, but difficult to eat with chopsticks!

Another couple of hours brings us to the Gobi Caravanserai camp. The futuristic buildings are like something from a classic sci-fi movie set on Mars, and not unlike the Chilean observatory used as a location for Quantum of Solace. The new en-suite rooms are nicely appointed but there are no chairs and I am having to type this standing up and stabbing the keyboard like Rick Wakeman does, so that’s a few points on the clock…

The other big problem is that the newly-built rooms ("hereinafter referred to as ‘the ovens’, m’lud") have large glass windows and doors facing the sun for much of the day, but no A/C, no forced ventilation (e.g. a fan), and no means of natural ventilation such as an opening window. The only option is to open both the patio door facing the desert, and the main door facing the courtyard. Chance of invading creepie-crawlies 100%. Chance of invasion by something larger (e.g. curious camel, snake) non-zero.

There’s no WiFi in the rooms, and for the first time in the trip I don’t have a usable signal on my Mobicom Mongolian SIM. The bar beckons.

After an early dinner we head out to the canyon. Although these "badlands" are being bathed in beautiful late-evening light, they are almost impossible to shoot because of the force umpteen gale blasting up the canyon walls and across the top where we are trying to work. Regular readers will know how I boast of being able to hand-hold shots down to 1/5s, or even multiple seconds for wider angles. I’m struggling to get a usable shot at 1/500s, and all the while worrying about taking a tumble.

As soon as the sun is down we head back to the hotel and sit outside waiting for the Milky Way, in the hope that at least an astrophotography opportunity might save the day. Sadly there is sufficient cloud that we’re unlikely to get a true and uninterrupted sky shot, but the conditions are sufficient to get a few memory shots. As I don’t have another model I opt for trying to get a "Milky Way Selfie". None is perfect (it’s really not that easy to run into position in less than 10s and then hold a pose for 20s), but I do get a couple of decent memory shots.

The overnight power outage goes unnoticed, but I have a rough night courtesy of a howling wind and unexpectedly high temperatures. Having suffered with the cold mornings in Zimanga I have brought all sorts of cold weather gear for our dawn shoots, but the day dawns with the Gobi Desert at 26C. I don a T shirt, and suspect I have wasted half my luggage allowance. Sod it.

The dawn shoot echoes the evening one. We have the same herders (and quite possibly the same "lead" camels) in a slightly different location the highlight of which is that 4 out of 5 Land Cruisers get stuck in the sand and have to be towed out. I get more great shots, especially with a great dawn breaking behind the models, but it’s very much an extension of the previous session.

Back at the camp I am suddenly struck by what can most politely be described as "Khan’s Revenge", and have a difficult morning running frequently to the facilities. Fortunately things seem to settle down during the afternoon, but it’s all a bit ominous given the amount of driving and flying on coming days.

After lunch I have a kip, and then plan to catch up with the blog. However I’m stymied by yet another power failure. I have internet access courtesy of a local SIM (which if I understood correctly gives me 15GB for about £4), but no power to the PC. Oh well.

I decide that discretion is the better part of valour and opt out of the sunset shoot, which based on weather conditions looks like becoming an extension of the previous two. The night has also been tagged for possible astro shots, but with heavy cloud cover that looks increasingly unlikely. I therefore hide in the bar, waiting for power to be restored, and am rewarded with a cut-price beer because the lad behind the bar has opened one too many, and selling it to me half-price is the easiest way to sort out the stock position. Excellent!

Day 3 is mainly a long drive south, to not far off the Chinese border. Thanks to the emergency replan this is a bit longer than expected, and we’ll also have a slightly longer drive back on day 5 returning to Ulaanbaatar from a more southerly site, but at least Mongolia has maintained its reputation for hospitality and kept a roof over our heads each night!

The main road south varies dramatically in quality and condition from place to place. After, say, 10 miles driving uninterrupted at UK motorway speeds you reach a section where the drivers have to pick their way around potholes almost deep enough to swallow a Land Cruiser. We make good time, but perhaps still less than the original plan allowed for.

Lunch is taken at the rather magnificent Grand Gobi Resort in Dalandzadgad. This combination of hotel, restaurant and night-club is styled like an enormous ger, but inside dominated by a statue of Genghis Khan. The food is good, but the portions are ridiculous. After a hefty salad with camel meat which most of us assumed was "it", we are each presented with a plate of 6 meat-filled pastries (think Cornish Pasty or empanada). One might have worked, two would have been generous, three covering absolutely all bases… We’re all sad to see so much food go back to the kitchen, but the heartiest trencherman amongst us manages 3 1/2.

The statue of Genghis Khan highlights an interesting problem. Most countries and their areas/cities can call upon a number of recognised cultural or historical figures to represent their image. Sometimes, as in Cuba in 2010, there is a conscious decision to limit things to a few chosen public figures. (They chose to iconise Fidel, Raoul and Che, but could have chosen from a range of musicians, sportsmen and gangsters!) However Mongolia’s interaction with the outside world is dominated by a certain 13th century warlord, and the outside world have few other references. He therefore dominates their imagery, but hopefully as Mongolia proceeds to make its own way outside the shadow of the Soviet Union we will start to recognise, and they will start to use, some other characters.

After lunch we head west from Dalandzadgad. The first 200km is on a very good new road and dispatched quickly, but then we turn off the surfaced road and head due north across country, through an impressive mountain valley, and reach the end of the Khongor sand dunes.

Before we reach the camp, we’re intercepted by a group of camel herders, who have been pressed into service to model for us as we photograph the camels and dunes. The sky is quite cloudy, providing less than ideal light to capture the dramatic scenery, but good light in which to do portraits of the herders and their animals.

After the shoot we do the final few miles to the Gobi Erdene camp. We’re each accommodated in a log cabin which is superficially attractive but scores very high on my Dysfunctional Hotel Room Design Index. [Update: the room not only scores a massive, unprecedented, 68 points, but has contributed 4 new categories!] Highlights include a single power socket positioned between the main and bathroom doors, but nowhere near any other surface, intermittent power which goes off during the night so nothing has charged, and a tap which is not actually screwed into the sink! Not impressed.

The big problem with Mongolia is that it’s so big. Big and empty. The distances between points of interest are usually several hundred km, there are few internal flights and a limited rail network. To explore multiple tourist destinations you are going to spend a lot of time on the road, and only a proportion of that will be on surfaced main roads.

On our second day we are therefore collected from the hotel by a convoy of five Toyota Land Cruisers, and set off on our long drive south. The jeeps are numbered, and to avoid any losses the drivers are determined to keep a tight convoy, in correct sequence, while making rather better progress than the official speed limit prescribes.

The resulting driving style can most politely be described as "enthusiastic", although we also exchange less printable terms. The drivers regard speed limits as non-applicable guidelines and no overtaking zones as vague suggestions. High speed progress is regularly interrupted by last-second braking and swerving to avoid potholes or crossing livestock.

Things are not helped by limited communication, even though each vehicle has a walkie-talkie. Following several near misses where our driver fails to brake quickly enough in response to brake lights in front, our jeep 4 is nearly into the back of jeep 3 during a more sudden than expected, unannounced, turn off the road to visit a family of horse breeders.

Sadly most of the horses are tied or corralled together, and difficult to photograph, but we do get some shots of the young lads riding bareback. However the family’s hospitality is unimpeachable, they welcome us into their ger and are happy to pose for portraits, although I decline the offer of fermented horse’s milk…

As we are getting back into the jeeps there is a more sudden than expected discovery that there’s been a cock-up on the accommodation front, and the camp we thought were expecting us for the night are not actually expecting us for four days. Fortunately the camp we had planned for the fifth night has space tonight, so the replanning is minimal, but it does mean turning tail and driving 100km back towards Ulaanbaatar, before we strike left on a rough trail to the revised location.

As per the highway speed limits, the drivers regard the unpaved routes as guidelines, and frequently strike out across unmarked terrain, or take multiple parallel routes to avoid being in each other’s dust trails. However the speeds are lower, separation a bit better and the surprisingly smooth progress is an impressive demonstration of just how good the suspension of a modern SUV can be when being put through its paces. Then, when more suddenly than expected the flat terrain turns into a steep climb up a narrow, rocky channel, you realise the Land Cruisers are in their element.

Although we arrive later than planned (the drive from the horse breeders has taken nearer 3 hours than the promised 1.5) we make arrangements to go and get some sunset photographs at the dramatic granite formations of Baga Gadzrïn Chuluu. This turns into an excellent 2 hours photographing the rocks in sunset light by camera and drone. This is the first time I have used my drone "in anger" as a mobile camera platform. The only challenge is working out which drone is whose, when you have all six in the sky.

A great end to a day filled with both the right and wrong sorts of excitement.

“Alright, alright, alright alright alright”. If you know, you know. If you have to Google it, it’s option 2!

It’s instructive to look back on my Zimanga trip, to review what worked, and what I might have done differently. If you’re planning a photo safari, you might find the following useful.

Firstly, I can’t praise strongly enough the owners and staff of Zimanga (https://zimanga.com/). The vision to dedicate 7000 hectares of land to a game reserve specifically set up for photographers has paid dividends. I know our group all enjoyed it thoroughly, and Lee is having no difficulty selling his trips a couple of years ahead, thanks in part to a lot of repeat business! The staff are all charming, knowledgeable and helpful, and go out of their way to make you feel welcome. Highly recommended.

I was very pleased with my kit choices. I agonised a bit about spending the money to supplement my perfectly good 100-300mm lens (200mm-600m equivalent) with a used Panasonic 100-400mm, but it paid off well. I regularly used both the extra reach (especially on the smaller birds) and the feature to limit focus to >5m (vital for shooting from behind glass but not implemented on the 100-300). I did experience the common complaint that the zoom control is a bit stiff and slow, so it may not work so well for sports, but for this trip it was ideal.

Of the 1220 shots I have retained on the PC for further processing, over 80% were shot with that lens. Around 15% were shot with the 35-100mm f/2.8, and almost all the remainder, only about 4%, with the 12-35mm f/2.8. I always carry spares, but I could have done this trip perfectly easily with just the three lenses, and I could have lived with the tiny kit lens for the "normal zoom".

My last-minute decision to trade in my old Panasonic GX8 for a used G9 also worked well. Because of the time pressure I just used the Wex Photographic used camera service for both the purchase and the trade-in, but it went like clockwork for a net cost under £150. Wex didn’t want the spare GX8 batteries but they sold almost immediately on eBay bringing the net cost under £100. For that I got a more modern camera which is similar enough to the G9 mark II you can switch quickly back and forth between them.

Don’t underestimate the number of shots you’ll take, or the storage requirement. My previous records were about 3300 shots over three weeks in the Desert Southwest of the USA, and 2900 shot over two weeks in Namibia (which combined wildlife, landscape and human subjects). In effectively 8 days in South Africa I took 6194 shots, and filled around 300GB of fast SD cards. After filtering I deleted about 100GB and moved over 130GB to my "unused image" archive disk, but I still have ~50GB (1220 images) to process further.

The other things you need are patience, and luck. Even with hides carefully designed to attract the animals, and dedicated guides constantly sharing information about what’s where, there was a lot of sitting around waiting, or driving across the reserve only to find the subjects had moved on. If you want the predictability of knowing for certain what you’ll see in a certain session, then maybe a trip to Longleat is in order!

I suspect that I lack the patience to do a lot of wildlife photography. I certainly missed a couple of hide shots because I was doing something else when the animal appeared. So be it.

Even with that caveat, I came away with a good collection of images, with some of which I’m extremely pleased. This was a very successful trip, and I can recommend it should you get the opportunity.

Over the past few weeks I’ve had the same conversation at least four times: before my trip to South Africa, at least twice while I was on my safari, and also after sharing my images for review. It starts like this:

Experienced Wildlife Photographer: "You need to use a shutter speed of at least 1/2000 s"

Me: "Why?"

EWP: "Because you have to, to get sharp images"

Me: "Why?"

EWP: "Because"

…

OK, in reality I don’t channel my inner toddler quite so directly, nor am I claiming to know better than the various EWPs. They do have some valid reasons, but I think that there’s also an element of "received wisdom" hiding very real technical and artistic options. The repeating nature of the discussion and my relative success with other strategies suggests that there is scope for more analysis. This is my take on that.

The technical decisions come down to minimising the risk of "missing the shot" – capturing an interesting subject, but the resulting image being of low quality, typically, but not necessarily, with unacceptable motion blur.

There are two sources of motion blur. The first is unintentional camera movement. In the olden days of film and non-stabilised lenses the golden rule was that the shutter speed should be at least equal to the focal length in mm, e.g. 1/800s if your telephoto lens is equivalent to 800mm. But it’s different now. A lot still depends on the photographer’s abilities and the physical size and weight of the camera and lens, but with modern image stabilisation most photographers should improve on that rule by 4 stops (a factor of 16), so should be able to hand-hold the 800mm lens at 1/50s. With the lightest mirrorless kit another factor of 4 or so might be possible. Shooting at medium speeds such as 1/250s really should not be an issue.

This does assume your own platform is stable. If it is moving, for example a boat, then you will need a higher speed, but again unless it’s pitching wildly in a storm you might get away with less than you expect.

The other source of motion blur is subject movement. Even a static subject may twitch, or may have the wind ruffling its fur. However the real challenge is an active subject engaged in deliberate motion. If you want to freeze that motion the required shutter speed increases as the subject size decreases. If you are trying to freeze small birds in motion then you really do need shutter speeds up well over 1/1000s, but that’s just not true with an elephant, where 1/100s will work almost every time.

You might be surprised how far you can go with medium-sized subjects and still freeze the motion acceptably. The picture above is a tawny vulture in flight, captured at 1/320s.

Even smaller and fast-moving subjects may work at lower shutter speeds than you think. My "Kingfisher rising" shot is "only" 1/1000s. I do wish I had used a higher frame rate to get a greater choice of positions especially on the downward arc, but I’m not unhappy with the shutter speed.

In the interest of not missing the shot you might be tempted to dial in a high shutter speed and have done with it, but of course there’s no free lunch. Unless light levels are very high, such a high shutter speed means using a higher ISO, going to a wider aperture, or both. Very high ISOs result in very noisy images, which may end up "soft" as a side-effect of noise removal. Using a large aperture on a long lens results in a very shallow depth of field, and your shot may end up soft because you missed focus. Either way you miss the shot anyway, whereas a different exposure compromise might deliver a clean and accurately-focused image with some amount of motion blur.

That’s the technical choice.

The artistic choices relate to your priorities for the image, and how you want to portray motion. My first priority is that most of the subject needs to be in good focus. I’m not a great fan of images where a tiny sliver is in focus and everything else is a blur, including much of the subject. (The classic example is a wildlife portrait where the eyes are in focus but the end of the nose isn’t. Not only don’t I particularly like the result if done well, but it will result in a bad image if focus is even slightly off.)

This means that I tend to ensure I’m working at moderate apertures. I get some benefit from the effective doubling of depth of field with Micro Four Thirds (MFT), but I rarely work at less than f/5.6. Occasionally this does leave a messy background sharper than ideal, but I would rather err on the side of caution, at least for the first shot.

Next, I try to avoid very high ISO values. With modern Panasonic MFT cameras ISO 1600 will work reliably and produce usable images even without much post-processing. ISO 3200 is fairly reliable, but all images need post-processing with Topaz Photo AI or similar to denoise and sharpen them. ISO 6400 and above tends not to work for "portfolio"-quality images. Admittedly in this case the smaller sensor is a disadvantage and full-frame cameras should get comparable images a stop higher on ISO, but sufficiently noise-free images above ISO 10,000 or so are going to be a matter of luck.

The received wisdom appears to be "get the shutter speed, accept the noise", but I know I can live with an image with some motion blur more easily than one with massive amounts of noise.

Then there’s the question of whether I actually want to show motion or not. If a lion is lyin’ there and happens to twitch its nose at the wrong microsecond I get a blurred shot, and that’s a fail. However if it’s doing something more dynamic, I quite like to show that.

My first influence is my love of equestrian sports as a photographic subject. My objective is often a panning shot in which the subject horse and rider are sharp, but the background is intentionally blurred to show the motion. If there’s some blurring of the horses’ hooves, polo mallets or the ball, that’s fine, as long as they are recognisable, and I think it adds to the dynamic nature of the picture. Practice has taught me that the best shutter speed to achieve this is around 1/250s.

I also like to photograph concerts and human sporting events. If these are at night, or indoors, then I’m constrained to the event lighting which imposes a relatively slow shutter speed. Again, similar judgements apply. I want the subject clearly recognisable, but if, for example, their hands are moving rapidly, then that’s acceptable. Consider the following image: to freeze the drummer’s hands I would have had to use a shutter speed up around 1/1000s and that simply was not available, but I’m very happy with the rest of him, sharp at just 1/40s. His hands appeared to us as a blur anyway, and that’s what I’ve captured.

So how does this apply to wildlife photography? Here’s a picture of a lioness running at 1/250s. That speed was to some extent imposed by very low dawn light, and also she started moving just after we arrived at her location and my camera was on settings from a previous subject. However I think it works. Yes, there’s some motion blur of parts of her body as well as the background, but to my mind that expresses how fast she was moving. A "frozen" shot at 1/2000s, had it been possible (it wasn’t) would not have communicated that.

Of course, you can take this a lot further, and that’s a pure artistic choice. For example, Richard Bernabe has a wonderful image of a moving herd of impala at 1/20s (See here). With wildlife I probably wouldn’t go that far, but I have experimented with dance and fashion subjects, so never say never.

Modern kit allows us to work at higher speeds than would ever have historically been possible. Modern software such as Topaz Photo AI cleans up and sharpens images which might previously have been deemed inadequate, and I certainly make active use of it – several of the shots on this page have benefitted from at least noise reduction and basic sharpening. It’s certainly possible to "cheat" some of the technical limitations in a way which has not previously been available. However, to paraphrase the famous quote from Jurassic Park, "you were so occupied with whether you could produce a very sharp image, you didn’t think whether you should".

For my part if I am trying to freeze the movement of small, fast animals I will use a faster speed. If I’m looking for artistic blur then I’ll use a very slow one. Most of the time I’ll stick with something in the range 1/50 to 1/500s, and embrace rather than eliminate subject motion.

Although my "group panoramas" are a tradition, I am on this occasion frustrated, as on every night there’s less than half of group at dinner, between night hide slots and three of us staying at The Homestead, a separate accommodation block a few minutes’ drive away, with its own catering arrangements.

In the end Ann and I persuade everyone to line up for a group shot taken after breakfast on the last full day. Back row, from the left: David, Yasmin, Mark, Lee, Issa, Ann, Ray. Front row: yours truly, Mike, John, Martin, Ali, Sue, Colin, Chris.

1/10 to Lee, who could have shuffled along to the left to fill in the gap!

Technical Note

Regular readers will recognise two recurring scenarios regarding my relationship to tripods:

• I have a tripod, but it gets used for a purpose definitely not listed on the manufacturer’s website
• I have no tripod, and have to improvise camera support using an object to hand

This is a good example of the latter. Camera placed on the edge of the pool, pointing at the sofa, flip-out screen pointing up so I can check composition, albeit upside down (ground glass screen and cloth, anyone?) To adjust the yaw angle, fork from dining table wedged under the camera body providing exactly the right angle of inclination.

Personally I think all this nonsense about tripods is overblown.

The Zimanga team insist on doing a final pre-breakfast game drive. While I appreciate the "value for money" focus, I am fretting slightly about whether that then makes the timing for the rest of the day a bit tight. It all seems to be based on "it’s a 3 hour drive back to the airport" when the drive up, which was slightly shorter, took a bit over 4…

The game drive starts as a bit of a bust. We spend an hour driving around with absolutely nothing to show for it, not even a few zebra or buffalo. However there’s then a message on the radio that the female lions have been spotted near the river. We head down there, and find the two lionesses wandering around and playing. They suddenly run across our field of view, but before our group has had time to sort out the right lens and settings, and I’m lucky to get a couple of decent "grab shots".

After that the lionesses cross the river and disappear into the bush. We are happy we’ve ticked another encounter off the list, and return to the lodge.

I decide the best plan is to finish my packing, then have breakfast, and return to my room for a quick shower before setting off on the return journey. Well we all know what they say about the best laid plans. The first two steps work well, but I get back to my room, disrobe, and then find that while I was at breakfast a very keen maid has been in and taken away all the towels! Foiled again!

Final formalities complete at 10am we board the jeeps for the final time to drive to the gate, and board the bus back to Durban. At the half-way point I ask the guide whether we’re on time, and there’s a slightly embarrassed pause. Apparently a medium-sized bus towing a trailer with the luggage is limited to 100 kph, and the "three hours to the airport" figure is based on a normal car. So it is going to be tight.

Even though the roads are clear and we only have one very brief comfort stop, we arrive with less than an hour to our flights to Johannesburg, and have to almost run through check-in and security. The flight itself is fine, although much busier than the one I came out on.

Once at Jo’burg there’s more confusion. Some of those affected by the BA cancellation are getting contradictory information about flight times and terminals. Mark and I are on the same Virgin flight back to London, but have different flight times printed on our documentation, so I end up with an extra couple of hours for "retail opportunities", and have to re-arrange my taxi. Finally, as usual I end on a bus to get to the terminal at Heathrow. At least I’m back safe and sound.

It’s nice to go travelling, but it’s nice to come home.

Next morning I present myself slightly early so we can go to the Tamboti hide and collect a justifiably-smug Colin and John, ready for our morning session in the Lagoon Hide. I’m keen to practice my new skill with the pre-capture facility, but there’s relatively little activity and we’re also shooting straight into the rising sun, so it’s somewhat less rewarding than the afternoon session.

Nonetheless I manage to get a good sequence of a kingfisher diving and then re-emerging from the lagoon. 20 frames per second isn’t actually fast enough to get all the detail of the dive – in one frame the kingfisher is well above the water, the next under it, but my timing is perfect for a key point on the rising part of its arc.

Jealous of Colin and John’s success, several of the group, having previously demurred from a final overnight session, are vying for the Tamboti hide for the last night. We avert a "free and frank exchange of views"*, but it does become slightly heated before a consensus emerges.

*[British Civil Service euphemisms for the vigour of a meeting:
"Candid dialogue" = We talked but we don’t agree on anything and we were unable to communicate.
"Beneficial dialogue" = At least we’re sitting down and talking. That’s an improvement.
"Free exchange of views" = There was shouting.
"Frank exchange of views” = There was a lot of shouting and punches were thrown.
"Direct exchange of views" = I hope the cleaners can get the blood out of the carpet.]

Early in the afternoon a Giraffe visits the contested hide, but not much else happens. I’m glad I didn’t feel inclined to fight for the slots.

I spend the morning catching up with images, but also manage to get some nice shots of the Zimanga lodge.

Lunch is calmer, up to the point where those members of the group scheduled on Thursday’s British Airways flight receive notice of its cancellation, and the various arcane and lengthy alternative routes being proposed to get them back to Blighty. I recall my own frustration dealing with a cancelled BA flight a few years ago, and sympathise, but there’s not much else I can do.

Our afternoon game drive is a chance to try and find a few subjects we haven’t get tracked down. First, we find a female cheetah who seems perfectly happy for us to approach on foot to within a few metres, although she’s essentially having an afternoon nap, and not putting on a show.

We then drive along the river, and get treated to a relaxed rhino family including a cute youngster, and some majestic impalas, plus we finally get pictures of a zebra facing the camera, visually separated from the pack, and not covered in mud.

As we’re headed back to the lodge Ty takes an unexpected turn, and we’re delivered to a table set up in the middle of the reserve, and treated to a sundowner of drinks and copious quantities of rather wonderful ostrich kebabs. The only challenge is that we’re then taken back to the lodge and presented with a T-bone steak for dinner!

After the frustrations and ultimate disappointment of the previous night hide session, I demur from another and after lunch wave goodbye to John and Colin before joining another group, with Calvin as guide, for an afternoon game drive.

I Discover Pre-capture

Although it’s targeted as "anything you’ve missed so far", the drive turns into a birding session, which is a great opportunity to exercise the newly-discovered pre-capture capabilities of my camera. In action photography, especially sports and wildlife, there’s a common challenge of anticipating the action, for example a bird taking off, so you capture it. Typically if you wait until you can see something happening, it’s too late. Over the years an awful lot of film and digital images have been wasted, left empty while the bird has, literally, already flown.

The latest generation of higher-spec cameras resolves this with "pre-capture". If you sit with a high frame rate selected, your subject in focus and the shutter halfway down, as well as updating the viewfinder display the camera is writing images to a rolling buffer. When you finally press the shutter all the way, it starts by writing the last half a second or so of images while it continues to capture new images in real time. After the event you should have a sequence including the peak of the action.

This does come at a cost. There’s a lot of processing going on, and if the action is delayed long enough you can see the battery’s reserves running down as you watch. If you use the feature regularly it uses a lot of storage, and that storage needs to be fast unless you want a significant delay before the camera is usable again. The Panasonic G9ii again delivers benefits from its smaller sensor: most full-frame peers need very fast CF Express cards and are still JPEG-only at higher frame rates. The G9ii delivers RAW+JPEG at up to 60 fps, although I opt for 20fps which gives me a maximum burst of about 8s, and works acceptably with inexpensive cards like the Lexar Silver Pro V60 series.

The other challenge is that if your subject is patient enough then your supporting hand and your trigger finger get very tired. One of the "must have" shots from a trip like this is a lilac-breasted roller taking off, but a couple of us on the drive don’t yet have it. Calvin spots one sitting in a bush and manoeuvres the jeep close to it. Knowing that it’s not usually long before the bird takes flight, we sight up on it and wait.

And wait.

And wait.

We appear to have found either the most chilled, or the most full, or the laziest roller on the continent. After over 15 minutes it still hasn’t taken flight, although there is enough movement to confirm it’s still alive. We try everything to provoke a controlled take-off. We cough. We clap. Calvin turns on the engine. Calvin turns on the engine and moves the jeep a few feet towards the tree. Nothing.

Finally, when we’re taking it in turns to rest our hands, the bird suddenly flies. I’m lucky – I have just refocused after a short break, and I get a couple of wonderful shots of it in flight.

Once we’ve got a couple more shots of less-chilled rollers, we move on the corner of the male cheetahs’ domain, where a tawny eagle is sitting in one of the dead trees. We get a couple of good static shots, and suddenly all hell breaks loose when a black-winged kite, a fraction of its size, starts angrily "buzzing" it, flying close with beak open and claws out, so the eagle is forced to cower and then squawk back. We can only guess at the cause: maybe the kite has a nest nearby and is pre-emptively defending its young? We manage to photograph about half a dozen passes, then the kite gives up, and after a few minutes the puzzled eagle flutters away.

The last target of the afternoon is the bee-eaters. These tiny, colourful insect-eating birds have a highly complex social structure based around a communal nest in a cliff facing the river. They are very skittish, moving quickly together at any perceived threat, which might be as little as one of use, 30m away, moving a camera too quickly. However with a bit of patience we each get some good shots.

I mentioned how storage-hungry pre-capture is. I have done whole tours and come back with around 32GB of images. This afternoon, across about two dozen sequences, I capture more than that in less than two hours.

I Invoke the Dragon Gods

By dinnertime Colin and John have reported moderate success from the Tamboti hide. After dinner, in a somewhat drunken state, for a joke I get onto ChatGPT and generate and share a picture of a dragon at the watering hole.

About an hour later Colin and John post a picture of three elephants at the watering hole, followed by reports of a couple more visits. This is without question the best overnight experience for the whole trip. I’m mildly peeved I didn’t partake, but also suspicious that if I had been there my impatience might have jinxed things. Congratulations, but don’t forget that I invoked the dragon gods to bring you luck!

The next morning we head off for our (in my case, at least) long-awaited session at The Scavenger’s Hill Hide. As the name suggests, this is designed to attract the reserve’s less glamourous occupants, those who depend on the kills of others. The hide is designed with two large metal grills just below our sight line, under which the staff have trapped meat and offal which can be clawed or pecked to extract chunks of food.

We arrive just before dawn, but the sky is lightening well before there’s any activity. As this is not typical we wonder for a while if there’s been some mistake, such as no food being put out, but after a while things get going, albeit slowly.

First to arrive are a few pied crows, followed soon by a Marabou stork. This scruffy fellow is much larger than the other birds, and it quickly becomes apparent that he’s a real bully. He could easily monopolise one of the grills and leave the other to the smaller birds, but instead he seems to want total control of both, hopping between them to scare off any bird who has dared to try his luck at the opposite grill. As a serious peck from his long, sharp beak would be fatal for a smaller bird, the others put up with this behaviour, but instead play a game of hopping to the other grill each time he moves.

Things really get going with the arrival of the white-backed vultures. While not conventionally pretty – none is going to win a beauty contest with a lilac-breasted roller – I think they have their own sort of elegance, with a majestic cloak of feathers.

Static appearance aside, the vultures also entertain with a variety of behaviours. There is a very real and literal "pecking order" at the hide. Top is the marabou stork, courtesy of its size and bullying behaviour. Next are a handful of the vultures who get prime access to the grills, and only have to dramatically spread their wings to get others to back down.

Then there’s the jostling between the other groups, which regularly results in one hopping into the air to drive his rivals away. Finally there are the crows, who readily give way to the vultures although one or two are occasionally prepared to retaliate. In reality they feed mainly by waiting for a squabble between larger birds and then stealing the prize during the confusion.

Even though activity tails off well before we’re collected, there’s arguably more "action" in the peak hour or so than we’ve seen over the rest of the week. The early morning golden light is wonderful, and the subject suits my style and equipment, benefitting from the extra reach and depth of field I get with micro four-thirds. We’re also helped by the somewhat lower than usual attendance: the common complaint about the scavenger hide is that the field is too crowded making subject separation a challenge, we don’t seem to have that issue.

A thoroughly excellent experience.

With our search for elephants still not fully resolved, and Frances confirming she wants me to come back with evidence of at least one baby elephant, we give Tyrone a fairly straightforward directive for the morning game drive: "find us some more elephants". We set out towards the south-west of the reserve, where the elephants are known to congregate, cross the river and drive to a reservoir in that corner.

A road runs along the top of the dam which forms the reservoir, providing views of both the far shore, and the scrubland below the dam. The shore is bathed in wonderful warm early morning light, and I abandon my long lenses to make a panorama, "Absence of Elephant". (Although, as any scientist or detective knows, absence of evidence is not evidence of absence…)

So far we have little evidence of elephants, although there is some activity hidden in the scrub below the dam, with an occasional trumpet or fleeting glimpse of a trunk reaching up through the trees, but not what we came for. However a couple of giraffes wander along the shore, reflected in the water, providing an unexpectedly graceful subject.

An eagle-eyed member of my group spots some elephantine movement on the far hillside, followed quickly by confirmation from another vehicle which has a different angle. A group of elephants are headed down the hill. We quickly move back up the track and get some shots of the group moving along the path, followed by them crossing the track just in front of our vehicles.

The group consists of about three older females, a juvenile, and a baby estimated to be about 4 months old. As our drivers carefully manoeuvre the vehicles to extend the interaction the baby expresses his puzzlement by giving one of the jeeps a playful nudge. Anyone old enough to remember the famous "Blue Peter" scene with John Noakes and a baby elephant will know how firm such a nudge can be!

The guides need to train the elephants out of such behaviour, so baby is recipient of a series of "bad dog" shouts and gestures. These in turn upset Mum, who approaches our jeep, but when the appropriate gesture is made she immediately calms down, so clearly the training sticks fairly readily.

The group moves away, but not before I’ve managed to get a couple of nice portraits of mother and baby. On our way back up the hill we watch a large bull who have also emerged from the scrub and is happily engaged eating a large, spiky bush.

Elephants done. Tick.

For our afternoon drive we fancy something a bit different, and set out towards the main lake to do some hippo spotting. On the way we encounter a group of zebras who almost seem to be taking direction:

Our first encounter at the lake, ironically, is with the same bull elephant we observed in the morning, standing quietly on the road in front of us, plus we get occasional views of a mother and older juvenile below the track. Like buses, elephants. Grr.

At the lake we spend a bit of time observing the hippos. Although Zaminga has a substantial number of them the challenge, which I had not appreciated, is that hippos are actually more closely related to whales than the other pachyderms, and spend a lot of time not just in but also under the water. This helps protect their skin, which burns easily, and allows them to graze on underwater plants as well as those along the water’s edge, but it does make photography more tricky. However we do get shots of one having a splendid yawn.

Our drive back is slightly hair-raising, as Tyrone’s usual route back from that side of the lake is waterlogged thanks to the recent rains, and the jeep loses traction. As he tries to work it free the vehicle starts to cant sideways at an alarming angle. In an enclosed SUV, or even one of Zaminga’s regular vehicles, this would be less of an issue but we are in the "photo vehicle" designed to enable lower-level shots, and you sit "on" rather than "in" it, with little to hold on to. Eventually we manage to reverse out and take the long way round, but not without a bit of drama.

We’re not expecting much from the remainder of the drive, but the best has arguably been left for last. As we’re driving past the cheetahs’ domain Ty spots a serval, a small but long-bodied wildcat about the same as a smaller domestic one. These animals are solitary, usually nocturnal, and actively avoid interaction with larger ones, so it’s extremely unusual to see one. We get a couple of shots of the serval moving, and then follow it to where it’s hiding from us.

We get a few more photos, but it’s evident that the animal knows it’s being hunted, doesn’t understand it’s just for images, and is finding it all quite stressful, so we leave it be and head back to the lodge, with an unexpected encounter under the belt.

Despite the short guest appearances on previous days, our hunt for elephants remains unfinished business. Zimanga has about 40, and it should in theory be relatively easy to find them, so that’s the initial focus of our morning game drive. We cross the river to the southern section of the reserve and find some evidence: broken trees and recent spoor on the road. After driving around for a bit we eventually see a large bull moving through the trees, and Tyrone manages to get ahead on a parallel route so that our paths cross in a large clearing. The elephant doesn’t want to hang around, but is happy to pass close to the jeep, so at least we get some good photos.

The search for a larger group, ideally with some youngsters, continues.

We abandon the hunt because a message comes in over the radio that the three male lions may be actively hunting. We hurry back across the reserve to the designated spot and find them. It’s very evident that the dominant male has eaten recently. The other two are less obviously full, and do seem to be following a group of wildebeest, but not with great urgency. The drive turns into a procession where the lions move a few yards up the track and then lie down for a bit. Then after a few minutes they rouse themselves to move a few yards more, and we follow until they need another rest.

There’s a brief flurry of excitement when two of the trio go off on a short side trip, and the other gets anxious until they are reunited. Initial nuzzling is supplemented by annoyed growling, but they quickly get back into their walk and rest routine.

In places the light is wonderful for portraits, but it’s not exactly edge of the seat stuff. Bloody cats…

On the way back to breakfast we see a variety of birds and herbivores. The afternoon and night are spent at the Tamboti hide, but to limited avail. Most of the night there’s no activity, plus as one of our party, who shall be nameless, snores like a jet taking off I get very little sleep.

Sod’s law, as I’m making a cup of coffee in the morning a rhino drops by, but by the time I’m at the front of the hide with camera ready he’s wandered off. Bugger!

The 4th day of our stay at Zimanga delivers where the previous day did not. We start with another game drive, again aiming to track down the reserve’s male lions. Almost immediately there’s a confirmed sighting, and we head to the specified location just as the sun rises and bathes the area in golden light. Zimanga has three relatively young males, brothers, the result of a swap for an older male to increase the pride’s genetic diversity. All three of these magnificent but still developing animals are present and correct.

That said, they don’t really deliver on the "bit more action". Ultimately, these are cats. Cats like lying down not doing much if they can get away with it, and the three males are obviously sufficiently relaxed and well fed that they don’t need to do much more. We get various shots of them lying down looking regal, and head off.

The alternative attraction is provided by the two male cheetahs. They have taken down a young zebra, and are busy stuffing as much of it as possible into themselves before leaving it to the scavengers. This is very much the "nature red in tooth and claw" bit of the safari.

What is interesting is the process reveals a surprising lack of problem-solving intelligence. The left flank and legs have been stripped, and the torso is already open. Both cheetahs are clearly very full, and you’d think that they would prioritise the high-value parts of what remains, before it’s time to leave the kill to others.

Nope, they crunch through the ribs to extract morsels of meat. They pick at the offal, before repeatedly remembering that they don’t like it. They work together to try and extract remaining fragments of meat on the left-hand flank. They don’t think of flipping the carcass over and eating the meat on its right side.

Once again I’m surprised by how relaxed cheetahs are around humans. Our guides allow us to get out of the jeeps and walk around, maintaining about a 3m minimum distance but not much more, and the cheetahs take little or no interest. Try that with a lion or tiger…

In the afternoon we visit the Lagoon Hide, a semi-submerged hide in the centre of a man-made lagoon, which is itself on one edge of a natural lake. This is an excellent location from which to observe water fowl. We watch various water fowl plodding around to find bits of food (although a small heron dives and takes a whole fish, which is impressive).

This one made me laugh. For some reason I’ve got the line "We’ll Walk Down the Avenue" from "Couple of Swells" going through my head…

Another good day’s shooting.

You don’t have to shoot Zimanga at 800mm!

I call this “Absence of Elephant”. £4M please! (If Peter Lik can get away with it, why can’t I?)

Oh, and about 5 minutes after shooting this scene, it disgorged a herd of about 10 elephants who were happy to wander past us and be photographed. There’s probably a deep and meaningful message somewhere about looking for hidden details, but I’m not sure my brain is up to it.

Day 3 dawns with a borderline white-out: thick mist filling the valley under heavy low cloud, and it appears to be even colder than the previous day. The drive is somewhat hairy, and also almost a wash-out: we find the cheetahs but they are asleep, and we find a small group of rhino, but they move away and clearly regard our jeep as an intrusion. Tyrone takes some time trying to find a reported male lion, but to no avail. One water buffalo is a bit more cooperative.

That’s about it for mammals. We fare slightly better with birds, getting good shots of several larger birds sitting in trees, but overall there’s not a great deal to show, emphasising just how much patience and luck contribute to wildlife photography.

Our afternoon and evening activity is another night hide session. No sooner are we settled in than it becomes apparent that this is the local avian dogging site. First a pair of Blacksmith Lapwings do a complex mirroring dance culminating in mating, and to make sure they do it again.

The Lapwings are replaced by a pair of small Three Banded Plovers, whose courtship ritual is less complex but completes with even more enthusiastic consummation. They fly away and, we think, return shortly for a second performance, but this ends with the appearance of a second male and a brief territorial squabble, so it’s also possible the lady is concurrently entertaining two suitors.

After that we are visited by a pair of Woolly-Necked Storks, who plod around for a bit, but if this is their courtship ritual it climaxes elsewhere.

About 10pm I am just getting off to sleep and Colin awakes me with the news that there’s an elephant near the hide. His night sight, honed by years of sailing, has spotted the large beast moving through the trees well beyond the reach of the hide’s lights. Eventually I tune in to where he is, and can follow by using my camera as essentially a night vision scope. Eventually he emerges from the trees, and I manage to get a couple of shots – handheld at 200mm and for 0.4s, using ISO 6400. It only works because elephants don’t move fast, and even so the hit rate is pretty low. My pics aren’t going to win any prizes, but after a slow evening they are still a reward in themselves, especially as that’s the last action of the night.

Maybe I need to channel my inner Peter Lik, produce a vast panorama entitled "Absence of Elephant" and see if someone will give me £4M for it.

And if you don’t understand the title of this piece, I suggest you Google both versions! Just use private browsing mode…

The afternoon of day 2 is spent at a hide officially called Bhejane, but in practice known to everyone as "The Bird Bath", because it attracts a wide variety of small birds who come to both eat the bird seed, and bathe.

However it’s not without its larger visitors. As we arrive we notice a much a full sized bull elephant loitering behind the hide. We get a couple of shots on the way in, and he does eventually wander past the hide window, but doesn’t stop to drink or pause long enough for photos.

Later in the afternoon we’re visited by a small group of warthogs, who do stop for a quick drink.

The real attraction, however, is dozens of small birds, of numerous colorful species, feeding, drinking and bathing. They are endlessly entertaining, and very photogenic.

About halfway through our session the available bird seed starts to run dry, so Lee thinks it would be a good idea to spread some more. However he manages to overdo it, so the ground looks suspiciously like it has severe dandruff, and some emergency gardening is called for. Fortunately no-one records this embarrassing event. Oh wait, I did!

Back to the birds… I’ve found a brilliant little app called Merlin Bird ID. You simply select a picture of a bird with approximate location, and it tells you the species and some supporting info. Just in case you thought I had magically become an ornithologist!

We head north to Zimanga, the first South African game reserve designed specifically for photographers. Located in KwaZulu Natal, not far south of the Mozambique border, this is a private game reserve of 7000 hectares (about 18000 acres), which is in turn part of a larger estate with sugar cane production. The name Zimanga was chosen to sound suitably African, but it’s also an anagram of "Amazing". We wait to see how well that’s justified

The rather boring more than 3 hour drive north from Durban is eased by our guide Mohammed filling us in on South African history and geography, and also by an unscheduled stop while they wrangle three enormous wind turbine blades across the highway.

Once we’re off the road it takes the best part of the 1/2 hour to drive across the reserve to the lodge. At a quick pre-lunch briefing we discover that Colin, John and I will be in the night hide, so after lunch and a quick freshen up we head out to the hide. Personally I could have done with being eased into the process a bit more, but to give each group a fair crack at each activity and location we don’t have that luxury.

The night hide is very well equipped with a kitchen, flushing toilet, beds, electricity and WiFi, as well as shooting chairs and tripods in front of an enormous glass window, fronting onto a watering hole just below our eye level. However despite all the concessions Zimanga makes to your comfort, sitting in the night hide is very boring. You have to be quiet, and can’t use screens or any other lights near the window.

Nothing happens for most of the night. A jackal walks through a couple of times but outside the range of the lights, and that’s about it. We fail miserably to follow the advice to sleep in shifts, and by the small hours we all doze off in the chairs. It’s quite possible that a unicorn visited the watering hole between 2 and 4 am and we all missed it.

Fortunately our patience is rewarded, and shortly after we wake up around 5 am the watering hole is visited by a very majestic water buffalo.

Dawn Game Drive 1

At 6 we’re collected by our guide Tyrone, for a dawn game drive. My first realisation is how badly I have underestimated the cold. Packing, my uppermost thought was "Africa" not "winter", and I was also thrown by the instruction to avoid bright colours, which eliminated most of my wardrobe. As a result I am woefully underdressed for the back of an open jeep in ambient temperature just above freezing.

All this is forgotten when Tyrone and the other guides converge on a pair of adult male cheetahs. The pair are brothers and live and work together. They are perfectly happy with humans watching on foot as long as we observe a safe minimum distance. They pose for us, play, groom each other and mark their territory in stunning dawn light, and many exposures are made.

After leaving the cheetahs each group takes a separate route back to the lodge. On the way we find buffalo, various birds, and a group of rhino with a youngster, who seem quite relaxed to have us come close in the jeep.

After an excellent breakfast we have the morning to ourselves for ablutions, image editing, and the chance to catch up on missed sleep.

After what seems like a long gap (including retirement and an operation) but was in fact only about 9 months, I’m back on my travels. This time I’m in South Africa, on safari. A group led by Lee Frost will be taking over Zimanga, a private game reserve north of Durban, for a week. If all goes according to plan we’ll see lots of different African wildlife, and come back with copious quantities of memory cards filled with stunning images. Fingers well and truly crossed.

One of the challenges of relatively short photographic trips is that it’s very easy to spend the first couple of days “coming up to speed” and getting back into the groove of taking varying and artistic but technically correct photos. Worst case you may find that you have forgotten how to drive your equipment, especially if some of it is relatively new to you, but it’s not uncommon to find that you are missing opportunities simply because you’re not seeing them and reacting quickly enough. Between some equipment changes, the technical challenges of wildlife  photography, and the fact that I had done very little photography over the winter, I felt this was a real risk for me.

We therefore decided that I should do a couple of “warm up” exercises in the weeks coming up to the trip. In terms of physical preparation I decided to invest in a second-hand Panasonic 100-400mm lens, for some extra reach, and swapped my old Panasonic GX8 for a used G9, to better accompany my G9ii main body and enable swapping backwards and forwards between the two bodies rather than constantly changing lenses. To make this work I also had to rethink bags, but found in my collection an old Lowepro shoulder bag which is comfortably large enough to hold the two bodies side by side.

So now all I had to do was check and familiarise myself with some new equipment, get used to a new way of working, and tune back in to photographing animals. Easy…

Shakedown 1 – Longleat

Frances came up with the brilliant idea of a day at Longleat, photographing their big cats, so I signed up for the “Big Cat Photography Experience”. This turned out to be a great kit shakedown (even the old model 100-400mm lens is brilliant as long as you haven’t accidentally switched stabilisation or autofocus off, GRR) and good for getting my eye in. I’m very pleased with some of the results, but may need to put some tape over the new lens’ controls.

As well as the requisite lions and tigers we also saw wolves, Bactrian camels and African cattle.

It has to be said that the Longleat staff were absolutely superb. The Big Cat Experience is limited to a handful of attendees, and in my case I had a whole seat row to myself so I could shoot out of both sides of the vehicle. The guide was both very knowledgeable about the animals, but also about the needs of photographers and was happy to reposition our vehicle, off road if necessary, to get the best shots. We were also able have the windows down to avoid internal reflections, not allowed if you’re driving yourself. Away from the big cats, the staff also went out of their way to make sure Frances was appropriately occupied on a tour of the house. 10/10.

Shakedown 2 – London Concours

Independent of my safari, we’d also booked to attend the London Concours, a supercar “show and tell” at the Honourable Artillery Company grounds in central London. As my “new to me” G9 hadn’t turned up before the Longleat trip, I decided to use the concours as a test bed for the G9, accompanied by the cheaper and smaller lenses which work both as my “social” kit and as spares for the larger lenses if any should fail on location.

The only issue was the inclement weather, but between showers I added Jaguars, Bulls and Prancing Horses to the score. No kit issues, but it reminded me that while the G9 may be less ultimately capable than the Mark II, it’s actually a nicer handling piece of kit, and not much of a compromise 90% or more of the time.

Shakedown 3 – The Hidden Forest

The trip finally arrives.

As is usual, I travelled out a day early so I could recover a bit before getting cracking. My flight out was fairly uneventful, but with some interesting contrasts. Heathrow T3 now has the integrated scanners, so you don’t have to take half your luggage out of your bags at security, but the process is anything but! It took about 20 minutes to process a queue of less than 10 people. My new metal hip didn’t set anything off, but the hanky & wipes in my trouser pocket did… By contrast in Johannesburg I had to collect and recheck my baggage (quick and painless), and then joined a security queue at least 100 long. I was prepared for a long wait, but the staff were very efficient and after no more than 15 minutes I was through the check into domestic departures. Heathrow take note…

After an excellent brunch of a Wagu burger and red ale at the “Airport Craft Brewery” (also 10/10), my second flight was also uneventful, but somehow managed to shave 25 minutes off a scheduled 1h10, so I had a bit of a wait while the taxi arrived. Eventually I arrived at the hotel in Ballito, and had dinner with the other early arrivals, Sue and Chris. Sue said we should try and find something to photograph on our first morning, and came up with the excellent suggestion of the local primate sanctuary, formerly “Monkeyland” but now the more elegant “Hidden Forest”.

Good choice. We had a guide who was not only friendly and knowledgeable but had the requisite eagle eyes to spot a tiny monkey up a tree 20m away, and got to see a number of species. With low light levels it was technically tricky, but I’m pleased with some of my results.

There was one sad little aspect. The Hidden Forest is a rescue sanctuary, populated mainly with monkeys and lemurs who have been rescued from the pet trade. One of these was a tiny capuchin monkey who followed us around the whole time, mewing like a cat and taking every opportunity to lie, submissive, in front of our group, waiting to be picked up and petted. He’s clearly an ex-pet who appreciates human company, but now he’s in the sanctuary that’s not allowed. Hopefully over time he’ll adjust and fit in with his fellow capuchins.

Tomorrow we’re off to Zimanga and the safari proper begins!

One of the great things about watching a lot of cop shows on television is the endless variety of mechanisms used to set up key characters. Recently we’ve had…

The Island: female detective born on Harris returns there after several years serving with the police in central Scotland.

Shetland reboot: female detective born on Shetland returns there after several years serving with the Met in London.

Return to Paradise: female detective born in a small town in Australia returns there after several years serving with the Met in London.

Get Millie Black: female detective born in Jamaica returns there after several years serving with the Met in London.

The One That Got Away: female detective born in Pembroke returns there after several years serving with the police in Cardiff.

Borderline: female detective born in a small town in Ireland returns there after several years serving with the Gardi in Dublin. OK, she then has to deal with cross-border interactions reminiscent of The Bridge working with a male detective from the PSNI, but still.

Thank god for The Turkish Detective! Some variety at last!

The Turkish Detective: male(!) detective born in Istanbul returns there after several years serving with the Met in London. Oh well…

I’ve been a bit delinquent regarding the blog, and I still have to write about the last couple of days in Tuscany. I’m working on a slightly more serious piece ruminating on the level of visible economic activity, but in the meantime I think the pictures from our third day there just speak for themselves!

Here’s my traditional group panorama for the 2024 Cinque Terre and Tuscany trip. From the left: Yours Truly, Grant, Elizma, Hildige, John, Buzz and Lee.

Remind me never to book any of my fellow travellers for a portrait shoot – these have to be the blurriest photos I’ve ever had to deal with, and I’ve done some of these almost in the dark!

Enjoy!

With Apologies to My Photography Tutors

First, I’d like to apologise to all the authors, tutors, mentors and tour leaders who have tried to instil in me “correct” tripod technique. As they say, it’s not you, it’s me.I don’t particularly have a philosophical objection to the three legged beast, and you will catch me using one when the camera has genuinely got to stay in one place for a long time, for example videoing a wedding speech, or taking a time-lapse photo sequence. However I do prefer a more free-wheeling approach, and my discovery that the latest Panasonic Dual Image Stabilisation allows me to hand-hold a wide-angle shot for 2-3s, or an extreme telephoto for 1/5s, has only encouraged me to eschew support when not essential.I do actually own three of the things, but the large and relatively heavy Manfrotto has only been used on one single photo shoot. However, coupled with the laser level it has proven invaluable as a surveying tool for our kitchen refit and preparing for my new workshop. My medium-sized Gitzo is a solid, professional but lightweight device, my default for a “serious” tripod. However I suspect I’d scare the purists by pointing out the pistol-grip Manfrotto head – none of this fancy gear rubbish!

And then there’s the Frankentripod . (It’s great to have one search term which gets your website at the top of all the search engines, even if you have to make up a word to do it!) It’s the tripod I carry when I don’t want to carry a tripod, but feel I should, to show willing, or “just in case”. It does the job, most of the time, at very little cost in terms of luggage space or weight. I say “most of the time” because there are limitations – in Cinque Terre, for example, it wasn’t quite tall enough to clear some of the safety fences around the harbour in Manarola, but I found work-arounds.

The Frankentripod also turns out to be the ideal device for my new tripod technique, which I call “why get a drone when you have a tripod?” The technique is simple:

1. Extend tripod to full length, legs together
2. Put camera on tripod
3. Flip screen out so you can see it from below
4. Put camera on self-timer
5. Start self-timer
6. Raise camera above your head, to clear obstacles such as vegetation, tall people etc.
7. Compose your shot by tilting the tripod as required
8. Wait for 0s
9. Bingo!

In the right situation this can be a game changer. For example, our views of Montisi from Castelmuzio were somewhat constrained by the fact that whoever was responsible for trimming the vegetation at the viewpoint was somewhat derelict in their duty. From head height the best wide shot was this, with some rather intrusive branches:

However, the Frankentripod method got my camera up above the errant foliage, and produced this:

The method does have some pre-requisites, and a couple of trust issues:

1. Lightweight camera and tripod. This is not going to work with a Canon 1DS, 600mm lens and Uranium tripod, unless you take my instruction in point 5 very seriously!
2. A flip-out or flip-down screen bright enough to be viewed from the other end of the tripod
3. Image stabilisation, very good image stabilisation
4. Trust that your camera is firmly attached. Otherwise this could become somewhat dangerous and expensive, although a long strap (shorter than yourself, obviously), tied to the tripod head, and a hard hat might provide some mitigation
5. A steady hand and strong shoulders, otherwise ditto. Pump iron!
6. A bit of skill to compose and then hold the composition in 10s, or whatever the timer is on your camera.

Or I could just buy a drone, Darling Wife!

We took our leave of the Cinque Terre, and embarked on the long drive to Tuscany. This was punctuated by two interactions with our host at Cinque Terre, first when he discovered that one of the keys had not been handed back, and then when the same member of the party (who shall remain nameless to share his blushes) discovered that he had also left his passport behind in the room. Cue three days of intermittent but extensive research into the options for courier services between Italy’s tourist regions.

We arrived in time to dump our bags at the very nice Hotel Casanova in San Quirico D’Orcia, and then head out to what has become known globally as "The Gladiator Mansion", due to its use in the final scene of Gladiator. As I’ve just purchased the Blu-ray of that film to watch before the prequel is released next month, it will be interesting to compare how Sir Ridley captured it compared with my attempt. I do know that he probably paid a sufficient fee to not have a little red tractor parked outside the front, whereas I had to cunningly hide it behind the tip of a cypress tree.

Our first full day in Tuscany dawned misty but with a fairly clear sky and we trooped literally next door into an olive grove which has an excellent view of another famous Tuscan location, The Belvedere. This is a popular dawn location, but I struggled to get an image I really liked. Once the sun is up you are shooting directly into it, so you either have to make your images somewhat before sunrise, with relatively little detail of The Belvedere itself, use a complicated arrangement of tripod and graduated filters, or adopt HDR techniques. I made the panorama below just before sunrise, it’s OK but not my best work.

Fortunately this wasn’t an issue for the rest of the day, which was clear and strongly lit. Our morning shoot was around the picturesque village of Lucignano d’Asso, and we ended up at the wonderful Cappella di Vitaleta. I was walking somewhat slowly, and arrived only just in time to get about 3 minutes of great light before the sun finally set, and my efforts were rewarded again on the walk back to the van, when we looked back to see an intense but small sunset, and my long lens probably captured it best.

We started day 2 by getting a train. There are essentially four ways of getting between the five towns which make up the Cinque Terre: you can walk along the cliff paths, go by boat, or get the excellent trains which run along or through the cliffs, roughly following the paths. Driving is very much the worst option as you have to drive up and down each steep valley, and parking is very limited. It’s also slow – Manorola to Riomaggiore is a 20 minute walk, less than 2 minutes by train, and a long drive of at least 20 minutes and 10 miles excluding parking and the walks into and out of town.

The only challenge with the train is that the timetable is somewhat erratic, as the same lines also serve Intercity traffic. Sometimes two local trains are minutes apart, at other times the wait can be over an hour.

The train took us to Venezza, town 4 of the 5, where we wandered down to the harbour to photograph waves breaking gently as the light rose through blue hour. However it soon became clear that we had another overcast day and no prospect of a photogenic sunrise.

We returned to Manarola to explore a little before lunch. The high path gives excellent panoramic views of the town, but I would have appreciated a bit more sunlight.

Friday morning brought a new entry for the dysfunctional hotels blog. The shower cubicle was wide enough, but only deep enough to wet either my front or back, not both together. To complicate matters it included a large metal soap dispenser. To add injury to insult, while I was soaping myself I caught the dispenser with my head. This lifted the dispenser off the wall where it promptly fell onto my foot bruising my big toe. My injuries are not exactly life-threatening, but it’s a bit of an achievement bruising both head and big toe in one move.

Thursday night had been very stormy, with a strong wind. Our dawn shoot was back at Manarola Harbour, but dramatically different from the first, with waves breaking high over the rocks, breakwater and harbour edge.

When we got back from the harbour another storm had broken. Three delivery men were having a noisy argument bordering on punch-up outside our accommodation. We never did find out the cause but it took the arrival of the local policeman to calm things down.

We had feared another grey, stormy day but suddenly after breakfast the skies started to clear and a shiny yellow thing emerged. We took the opportunity to walk to Riomaggiore, the first of the Cinque Terre, on the wonderfully named Via Dell’Amore, a nicely surfaced cliff walk which has only recently reopened after a 12 year closure for re-engineering. Riomaggiore is very photogenic, but there’s a lot of up and down steep steps and slopes, not ideal for my grumbling hip and knees.

We returned to Manarola by train for lunch and a siesta, but then went back to Riomaggiore to watch the sunset (with real sun!). The great thing about Riomaggiore harbour is you have a choice of view only about 50m (and a few steps) apart. Lee and most of the team opted for shooting into the sunset, but I moved to the other side and concentrated on capturing the colourful buildings, and people, bathed in the orange glow. My motto for such circumstances: "Follow the Light".

We took dinner in Riomaggiore, but by the time all was said and done we had missed the 9.20 train, and the next wasn’t until 10.30pm. Most of the group decided to walk back, but I opted to wait for the train. A couple of nice glasses of Chianti at the railway bar went down well, and I then wandered over to the platform. A young lady sat down next to me and used a line I thought had gone out of fashion, the Italian equivalent of "have you got a light, kind sir", followed by an elaborate mime of looking for a lost lighter. Three possibilities: it was genuine, she was the local prostitute and the line had always worked, or she was a pickpocket, several of whom operate on the trains. Either way my "no sorry" plus a suggestion about rubbing two sticks together closed the conversation down!

The Italy 2024 Blog

I’m not sure I believe in curses as a general rule but I am starting to think that I have inadvertently offended a very particular deity and invoked their wrath. Every time I go on one of Lee Frost‘s photography workshops, there is some point on the first day where I am either wringing out clothes or emptying water out of a camera.

It was therefore of little surprise when a day before setting off to Pisa for a trip around the Cinque Terre and Tuscany, that Lee sent a WhatsApp message warning of a near-biblical weather forecast for the first few days. I replied flippantly that I had already packed my most waterproof clothes, but I could add a snorkel if required.

I was therefore pleasantly surprised when my trip was untroubled by rain, and the first full day dawned bright and sunny in Pisa. The other attendees gathered at Pisa airport also without apparent problems, and the only delay was inevitable Italian over-complication of the paperwork when Lee collected the minibus.

We had a pleasant drive to Manarolo, also in fair weather, and a delicious if slightly late lunch. Then Grant repaired to his room and opened his suitcase, to find every item soaking wet! There was no obvious cause, but some items were so wet they could be wrung out. While it had been raining heavily when he and John boarded the BA flight, the thorough wetness of his gear suggested that the case had not just been left in the rain, but somehow immersed.

After lunch we went down to the seafront, Grant wearing his only dry outfit. And the heavens opened, dousing all but myself, as I had returned to my room to collect something.

This is the most focused manifestation yet of the curse. I don’t understand how I have escaped, but "false sense of security" suggests itself. Hopefully Grant will dry out soon…

Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs

We had a late lunch, which for most of us of consisted of delicious but very large pizzas. I had a gorgonzola and truffle pizza which I failed to finish, very unusual.

The weather was less than ideal for capturing the traditional shot of Manarolo across the harbour, with a leaden overcast sky, and little prospect of a sunset. However very occasionally the sun did break through the clouds with a few well-placed beams of light, and working quickly we each captured a few well-lit images. As the alleged sunset came and went we were luckier with blue hour, less dependent on direct light, and we all came away with satisfactory shots of the town lit up in the gathering evening.

I did make one astonishing discovery. I have become used to hand-holding the Panasonic G9ii (and its predecessor) for shots with exposure time of 1/5 or 1/4s, but I wasn’t even touching the surface of the possible. I have come to Italy with only a small tripod, incompatible with the relatively high railings of the cliff walk, and I decided to try hand-holding longer exposures. I managed a couple at well over 2s which are acceptably sharp, and captured several very sharp images, like the top one here, in the 1-2s range. Obviously this only works with wide angle lenses, but even so it’s quite remarkable.

We each stuck to a single course for dinner, but that turned out to be further enormous portions of delicious food, with no complaints about quality, but one or two concerns about quantity. I can see that managing my diet is going to be a challenge…

Just how wrong can an AI get it?

As part of my effort to profile the power consumption of GenAI, I decided to try and summarise one of my travel blogs using ChatGPT and the other big public models, plus a series of smaller models which can be hosted locally on my Alienware workstation. What’s interesting is just how well, and badly, the different AIs handled the task.

The instruction in every case was the same: “Summarise the blog at https://www.andrewj.com/blog/2024/three-kirks-and-a-kirkufell/”. You might want to read the blog yourselves before reading further: it’s neither long nor complicated, but it defeated most of the contenders.

I tried to avoid writing “WTF”, but I was sorely tempted. Some of these are hallucinating like they’ve just taken LSD…

The Attempts!

ChatGPT

The blog post “Three Kirks and a Kirkufell!” recounts a photography trip around Iceland’s Snæfellsnes Peninsula. The author, despite dealing with a cold and Iceland’s challenging weather, visits and photographs three distinctive churches (“kirks”)—Búðir, Stóra-Hella, and Enni—before capturing the iconic Kirkjufell mountain. The journey includes dramatic landscapes, with highlights like waves crashing and snow-covered scenes. The narrative reflects the difficulties and rewards of winter travel in Iceland.

Score: 10/10. Excellent, couldn’t do better myself.

Gemini (Bard)

This is an article about a photographer’s trip to Iceland. It discusses his experiences photographing three churches and Kirkufell. He had some difficulty finding pharmacies with the medications he needed. He also had some trouble finding Kirkufell because of the weather. He eventually found it and took many photographs.

Score: 6/10. OK, effectively correct apart from the bit about not being able to find Kirkufell, but lacking the nicely condensed detail of the ChatGPT version.

CoPilot Chat

The blog post titled “Three Kirks and a Kirkufell!” by Andrew Johnston describes a travel experience in Iceland. The author recounts a cold, snowy day driving along the north of the Snaefellsnes peninsula. The journey included an attempt to visit Kirkufell, a notable mountain, but the stop was abandoned due to poor visibility from the snow. The post highlights the challenges and beauty of traveling in Iceland during winter.

Score: 4/10. Just adequate. Some factual inaccuracies and poor detail, but at least still rooted in reality.

Wizard V1.2

The article “Three Kirks and a Kirkjufell” is about an adventure trip to Iceland by the author, Andrew J., who visited three churches (Kirks) in Reykjavik. The first church was Hallgrimskirkja, which has a unique architecture that resembles a rocket ship taking off into space. The second one was the Lutheran Church of Holmenkollen, known for its beautiful stained glass windows and traditional Norwegian wood carvings. The third Kirk was the Gamla Stan Church in Stockholm, Sweden, an old church with a rich history dating back to the 13th century.

Andrew J. also visited Kirkjufell, a mountain near Reykjavik that is known for its unique triangular shape and appeared in the popular TV series “Game of Thrones”. He enjoyed hiking around the base of the mountain and admiring its beauty from different angles. The author concludes by sharing his love for exploring new places and experiencing their cultures, architecture, and natural wonders.

Score: 2/10 (feeling generous). Starts OK, but rapidly descends into just making stuff up. How I’m supposed to have teleported to Stockholm while in Reykjavik is not explained.

Llama 3B Instruct

The blog post “Three Kirks and a Kirkufell” by Andrew J. is an entertaining account of his experience hiking in Iceland’s stunning landscapes. Here’s a summary:

Andrew, along with friends Sarah and Mike, embarked on a 7-day adventure to explore three iconic KIRKs (churches) and the famous Kirkjufell mountain in western Iceland. The trio aimed to visit the churches at Snæfellsnes Peninsula, Borgarnes, and Reykjavik. Their journey began with a scenic drive along the Golden Circle route, where they marveled at Þingvellir National Park’s unique geological features. They then visited the picturesque church in Borgarnes, which dates back to 1615. The next day, Andrew and friends explored Snæfellsnes Peninsula, admiring its breathtaking landscapes, including black sand beaches, glaciers, and volcanic mountains. They stopped at a charming church in Arnarstapi village, built in 1869. Their final destination was Kirkjufell mountain, made famous by Game of Thrones as the “Arrowhead Mountain.” The group hiked to the base of the iconic peak, taking in its majestic views and snapping photos. Throughout their adventure, Andrew shares witty anecdotes about his friends’ quirks (or lack thereof), amusing observations on Icelandic culture, and stunning visuals showcasing Iceland’s natural beauty.

Score: 2/10. The start and end are OK and at least the context is correct, but the bit in the middle is complete fantasy.

Llama 3

The title is “Three Kirks and a Kirkufell”, and it’s a book review of “The Fellowship of the Ring” by J.R.R. Tolkien. Here’s a summary:
The author, Andrew J., reviews his re-read of “The Fellowship of the Ring”, the first book in The Lord of the Rings trilogy. He reflects on how he appreciated certain aspects more this time around, such as the character development and world-building. Andrew praises Tolkien’s writing style, saying it’s both engaging and immersive. He also discusses the themes of the book, including friendship, loyalty, and the struggle between good and evil. The reviewer notes that the pacing is well-balanced, with a mix of action, humor, and quiet moments. Andrew concludes that “The Fellowship of the Ring” remains an excellent fantasy novel even after multiple readings, and he’s excited to continue with the rest of the trilogy.

Score: 0/10. This is a complete mystery, especially given that a slightly different version of Llama at least got the context right. How on earth did they get to “Lord of the Rings”? Ironically I could understand “Journey to the Centre of the Earth” because at least that starts at Snaefells…

Mistral

The blog post, “Three Kirks and a Kirkufell,” by Andrew J., discusses the author’s experience visiting Iceland and exploring various sites related to Star Trek. The three Kirks mentioned in the title refer to Captain James T. Kirk from the popular science fiction series, who has been immortalized in different ways throughout Iceland. These include a statue of him at Keflavik International Airport, another one near the Blue Lagoon, and an actual mountain called Kirkjufell (Kirk’s Mountain). The author also shares his thoughts on the unique landscapes and natural beauty found in Iceland, which inspired the creators of Star Trek to use it as a backdrop for their show.

Score: 0/10. Complete balderdash. This model obviously doesn’t recognise the work “kirk” despite the fact that it’s a regular part of Scottish English, with exactly the same spelling and meaning as in Icelandic. On a positive note at least we’re back in Iceland from Middle Earth…

GPT4All Falcon

The blog post “Three Kirks and a Kirkufell” by Andrew J. is about his experience hiking in Iceland, specifically the three peaks of Kirkjufell, Kirkjuvatn, and Kirkjufell. He describes the challenges he faced, such as navigating through thick fog and snow, and how he overcame them with determination and perseverance. He also shares some tips for other hikers who may want to attempt this hike. Overall, the blog post is a personal account of Andrew J.’s experience in Iceland and his love for hiking.

Score: 1/10. Poor. I don’t mention hiking, and by my count the summary lists two mountains not three. Again no recognition of “kirk”.

Ghost 7B

Summary:

The blog post discusses three different churches: Kirk, Kirke and Kirche. Each church has its own unique characteristics and history. The author explains that the word “church” itself comes from the Old English word “cyrc,” which means “circle.” This is reflected in the shape of many early Christian churches, which were often circular or semi-circular.

Key Points:

o Kirk: A Scottish church type characterized by its low, round roof and lack of windows. It was originally designed to be a place for worshipping God outdoors.

o Kirke: A Norwegian church type that is similar to the Kirk in Scotland. However, it has a slightly taller roof and may have some small windows.

o Kirche: The German word for “church.” It refers to any Christian church, regardless of its size or style.

o Kirkufell: A term used by some Scandinavian countries to refer to the Church of England. It means “the church in the field” and is a reference to the fact that many early churches were built on agricultural land.

Conclusion:

The blog post provides an interesting overview of three different types of churches: Kirk, Kirke and Kirche. Each type has its own unique characteristics and history, and they all play an important role in the religious life of their respective countries.

Score: 0/10. We’re off on a tangent again, nothing to do with the source, and as far as I can see they’ve just completely made up some of the details.

MPT Chat

The article discusses how Andrew Kirk has been inspired by three different individuals in his life – a friend, an uncle and father figure who taught him about business ethics; the Dalai Lama for teaching him mindfulness techniques to deal with stress management at work. He also shares some of these lessons learned from them that have helped shape their own approach towards leadership which is centered around empathy rather than control or manipulation.

Score: -5/10. Nope, I haven’t got a clue how they got this from what I wrote.

Conclusions

The three online models (ChatGPT, Gemini and CoPilot Chat) all worked, although there is a very marked difference in quality and detail of output. The self-hosted models all failed, some more miserably than others…

In a large number of activities, better training and access to better resources both play a part in the success rate, and it appears that GenAI is no exception. Models you can host on your own system (even with a moderately high-spec GPU like my NVidia 3060 with 12GB RAM) are just pale shadows of the “very large language models” such as ChatGPT. They have neither the resources to hold significant knowledge, nor the training across a wide enough knowledge base. That doesn’t preclude effective use on a tightly-focused specialist use case, but their generalist capability is going to be very limited.

Beware, but also be afraid, be very afraid.

Just how bleak can an AI’s world view become?

One of my clients asked me to write an article on the environmental impact of generative AI. Like a lot of large corporations they are starting to embrace GenAI, but they are also a leader in sustainability, aiming to be one of the first major financial organisations to Net Zero, and so they are rightly worried about the potential adverse effect of large-scale use of GenAI. I’ve already been doing work with them to measure and to better understand the power consumed by GenAI, so the article is an obvious next step.

I’ve already written several articles for their internal Net Zero blog, and to add a bit of interest to each I’ve asked ChatGPT to generate a short essay on the topic, in the style of a well-known author. This appears to be a task at which ChatGPT excels, and I saw no reason not to do the same again.

God, That’s Bleak…

I like the way ChatGPT mimics the very direct writing style of Hunter S Thompson, and I like to think that if he was still with us, Thompson would be working to expose shortcomings on all sides of the climate change debate. The prompt to ChatGPT was therefore a simple one: “Write a short essay about the risks of AI with a focus on the environmental impact, in the style of Hunter S Thompson”. This was the result:

A Savage Journey Into the Heart of Techno-Doom: AI, the Environment, and the Goddamn Reckoning

We live in a time of extraordinary madness, where artificial intelligence (AI) has become the darling of our cursed, frenetic age. It’s a glittering gem, a tool of infinite promise—yet lurking beneath this polished veneer lies the venomous bite of catastrophe. If you think AI is just another shiny toy for the tech elites to fiddle with, you’re in for a rude awakening, my friend. The real story here is not just the dystopian nightmares of machines outsmarting us; it’s the environmental havoc that this digital beast is ready to unleash on an already bleeding planet.

Let’s be blunt—AI is a power-hungry, resource-guzzling monster. It doesn’t just run on hopes and dreams; it feasts on data and electricity, and the price is paid in the blood of the earth. Picture it: vast data centers sprawling like cancer across the globe, consuming as much energy as entire nations. These steel-and-silicon behemoths are the new factories of the digital age, but instead of churning out cars or canned goods, they spit out algorithms and predictions. And just like the smoke-belching mills of the industrial revolution, they’re leaving a trail of destruction in their wake.

But who cares, right? So what if AI needs a few gigawatts here and there? We’re advancing, after all! The future is here, and it’s smarter than ever—never mind that the goddamn planet is burning. That’s just collateral damage, a minor inconvenience on the road to progress. This is the kind of twisted logic that’s driving us headlong into the abyss. The tech lords promise us a utopia of endless convenience, while quietly brushing the environmental costs under the rug. But you can’t hide the truth forever.

Let’s get real about the energy. Training AI models, particularly those gargantuan neural networks that gobble up every scrap of data they can find, is like fueling a fleet of private jets with coal. The carbon footprint of these operations is staggering. Every keystroke, every click, every goddamn chatbot response comes at the cost of churning out more CO2. And let’s not forget the hardware—the servers, the cooling systems, the endless upgrades. They all need minerals mined from the earth, ripped from the ground in a frenzy that leaves behind a scarred landscape and poisoned water.

And then there’s the e-waste. This relentless march of technology demands constant upgrades, and when those shiny new devices become obsolete, they’re tossed aside like yesterday’s trash. But this trash doesn’t just disappear. It festers in landfills, leaching toxins into the soil, contaminating water supplies, and creating a slow-motion disaster that will haunt us for generations.

But here’s the kicker: as AI becomes more “efficient,” as it gets better at predicting, automating, and optimizing every facet of human existence, it only exacerbates the problem. The smarter it gets, the more data it needs, the more servers it demands, the more energy it consumes. It’s a feedback loop of doom, an ouroboros of technological advancement eating its own tail, and we’re all along for the ride, whether we like it or not.

So what’s the answer? Do we unplug the machines and head for the hills? Not likely. The AI genie is out of the bottle, and there’s no stuffing it back in. But we need to start facing the reality of this techno-madness before it’s too late. This isn’t just about smarter machines or even smarter humans. It’s about survival. Our planet is at stake, and if we don’t get our heads out of the silicon-scented clouds, we’re going to find ourselves deep in the muck, wondering where it all went wrong.

In the end, AI might just be the ultimate test of human intelligence—a test of whether we can outsmart our own creations before they outstrip our ability to live on this Earth. If we fail, the machines won’t need to destroy us. We’ll do it ourselves.

Bleak, or what?

And how do I teach myself to write like that without an AI?

Cheerful, but Profound

I liked it, but unsurprisingly my clients were not that keen, especially as there’s a current internal campaign about the benefits of AI. So I tried again. Let’s not do bleak, let’s do cheerful. As a child of the 1960s I struggle to think of anything more cheerful and unthreatening than Winnie The Pooh, so I went back to ChatGPT with a second prompt: “Same again, please, but in the style of Winnie the Pooh”. Usually the “same again” instruction or similar resurfaces the same concepts, just wrapped in different language, but this time ChatGPT did something quite profound…

A Thoughtful Little Reflection on AI and the World Around Us

One fine day in the Hundred Acre Wood, while sitting on a sunny spot, Pooh Bear began to think—very hard, which is not something he did often, mind you, but this was a special kind of thinking. You see, there was talk in the Wood about something called Artificial Intelligence, or AI, which sounded very important and rather clever. So, Pooh decided he ought to try to understand it, especially since it seemed to be making quite a fuss in the world beyond the trees.

Now, Pooh was a bear of very little brain, as we know, but he had a great deal of heart. And when he thought about this AI, he began to wonder not just about what it could do, but about what it might mean for the world—especially for the bees, the flowers, and all the other important things that made life in the Hundred Acre Wood so delightful.

“AI,” said Pooh to himself, “must be a very busy sort of thing, always thinking and learning. But if it’s thinking and learning all the time, it must need a lot of honey to keep it going!” But of course, AI didn’t eat honey. It ate something else—electricity, and lots of it. And that gave Pooh pause. He remembered how much work it took to make a pot of honey, and he wondered how much work it must take to feed all that electricity to AI.

Pooh scratched his head, thinking of the bees buzzing in the flowers, gathering nectar bit by bit. “If AI needs so much energy,” he thought, “where does it all come from? And what happens to the Wood if we use too much?”

You see, Pooh had heard that the world was getting warmer, a little more each year, and that too much energy-using could be a rather bad thing. The flowers might not bloom as they should, the rivers might run dry, and the trees might stop growing so tall and green. And that would be a very sad thing, indeed. For without the trees, where would Owl perch? Without the flowers, where would the bees find their nectar? And without the rivers, where would Piglet splash on a hot summer day?

It seemed to Pooh that while AI was very clever, it might not always be very wise. For if it wasn’t careful, it could use up too much of the things that the world needed to stay happy and healthy. It was a bit like eating too much honey in one go—not a bad thing in itself, but too much of it might leave you with a tummy ache, or worse, no honey left for tomorrow.

Pooh also thought about all the things that AI needed to be made. It wasn’t just the electricity; it was all the metal and other bits that had to be dug up from the ground, and then made into machines that could think and learn. And when those machines got old, they couldn’t just be tossed aside like a worn-out honey pot. No, they had to be dealt with carefully, or else they might end up in a big heap, making a mess of the beautiful Wood.

So, Pooh decided that while AI might be a very useful and clever thing, it needed to be used with a bit of care, the same way one should be careful not to eat all the honey at once. He thought that maybe, just maybe, if everyone thought a little more about how to use AI wisely, and didn’t let it gobble up too much of the world’s energy and resources, then perhaps the Wood could stay green and lovely for a long, long time.

And with that, Pooh decided it was time for a little smackerel of something—because even a bear of very little brain knows that sometimes, a small break is the best way to keep thinking about big, important things. So off he went, humming a little tune and hoping that the clever people working on AI would remember to take care of the world around them, just as he took care of his honey pots.

There are some quite deep messages in here. I particularly like “It was a bit like eating too much honey in one go—not a bad thing in itself, but too much of it might leave you with a tummy ache, or worse, no honey left for tomorrow.”

What’s interesting is the different focus of the two pieces: the dominant message in the “Hunter S Thompson” one is very much “our rush for more technology is destroying us”, whereas in the “Pooh” one it’s “AI is a good thing, but not if we use it too much”, which is much more balanced.

Sadly I haven’t yet persuaded my clients to use either version, but at least I get to share them with you.

As is traditional, here’s my rogue’s gallery from the Lee Frost Iceland Tour 2024. From the left: Philip, Chris, Chris, Andreas, Lee, Yours Truly, Ann, John and Geriant.

Ideally, don’t get a cold when you’re in Iceland. If you must, make sure you have enough of your preferred cold medication. If you’ve failed on that, then you really, really don’t want to discover it on Saturday morning. In Iceland’s smaller towns the pharmacies close over the weekend. We then discovered at 2pm on Monday that Vik’s is only open 9-1. At 9 on Tuesday we discovered that the Vik pharmacy don’t do any over the counter sales, and then at lunchtime we discovered in a larger pharmacy in Selfoss that none of them sell what we’d recognise as cold remedies!

Fortunately my own stock of lemsips lasted just long enough to get me through the worst, and the pharmacist in Selfoss took pity on me and sold me a couple of tablets "for a good night’s sleep" which I took on Tuesday night. I was asleep within minutes and 9 hours later I woke up feeling somewhat refreshed and ready for the day. Now all I need to find is an English translation of the Icelandic-only leaflet and find out just what’s in them!

Wednesday dawned cold and with snow falling steadily. We set off on the drive along the north of the Snaefellsnes peninsula, but what should have been our first stop at Kirkufell was abandoned because we couldn’t see the car park from the road. Lee wisely decided to cut our losses and drive the long way around the south of the peninsula, where the weather was a bit better, and we finally fetched up at Búðir church, which we photographed with snow driving in the foreground and enormous waves breaking for hundreds of yards behind the beach. Kirk 1.

The next stop was the small town of Arnarstapi where we got an excellent fish & chip lunch, and photographed interesting rock stacks around the harbour, and waves crashing through a natural arch a short distance away. We then proceeded to the pretty red-roofed church at Stóra-Hella. This works very well if there’s snow on the ground but clear skies, whereas we were trying to get our shots in driving snow. Characterful, but not quite the shots we imagined. Kirk 2.

In sharp contrast the next town, Enni, is home to a striking, modern and very geometrical church. I think it works well with a monochrome treatment. Kirk 3.

A short distance up the road we passed a cliff covered in tumbling ice-falls. I asked to stop and got some wonderful images, but for some reason there were few other takers. All kirked-out?

However the main event was still to come. We had completely circled Snæfellsjökull at the end of the peninsula, and worked our way back to Kirkufell, which was now clear and bathed in the light of the setting sun. There were countless images to be made, but the classic one of the mountain in the background and the waterfall in the fioreground worked very well when I was able to quickly grab a shot without too many other people in it.

After a leisurely breakfast we hit the road for the long drive up to the Snaefellsnes peninsula, up on the Iceland’s North-West coast. Among a number of other attractions, this is home to the volcano Snæfellsjökull, famous as the point where Professor Otto Lidenbrock & co start their Journey to the Centre of the Earth.

First stop was the road to Dyrhólaey. On the drive in yesterday I had seen a great composition with the three Vik sea stacks framed on both sides by a combination of the mountains around Vik, and the edge of the island. It took a little finding, and my best shot was probably taken through the windscreen with the van momentarily stationary, but I not only found the composition, I was rewarded by a great sky including rolling clouds and breaking sunshine.

Next was the waterfall at Seljalandsfoss. I have seen this before, in Summer when it’s possible to walk behind the water. In winter that’s roped off for obvious safety reasons, but you can still get some great shots from the front, with the benefit in early Spring of much greater water flow. Images are all variations on a simple, obvious theme, but it’s worth the short stop to add one to your collection.

The drive into Reykjavik and out North was challenging due to the combination of frequent heavy rain showers, and occasionally settling snow. However we made it, including a lunch stop, to Borgarnes, beyond which the drive was again punctuated by snow showers, but also a couple of brief stops (brevity enforced by the inclement weather) to capture combinations of dramatic scenery and skies.

We finally arrived at Stykkishólmur. The Foss Hotel is modern and spacious, but doesn’t offer a laundry service so I had to resort to hand-washing a couple of items I needed to tide me through to the end of the trip. Unimpressed.

On a positive note the dinner was excellent, the lamb one of the best meals I have had in some time.

On Sunday we moved on from Höfn back towards Vik. I was still feeling fragile, but after a better night’s sleep somewhat improved, and I knew the day would be mainly a fairly steady drive.

We did make one photography stop, at the Svínafellsjökull Glacier. At one level this was very depressing. I visited in 2011, and I remember a short walk of maybe a minute or two, to a glacier towering above us. Now it’s a 10+ minute hike in, to a glacier which is at its leading edge some way below the viewpoint. It has obviously retreated at least 0.5km in the intervening 13 years, and maybe as much as 1km. There really is a case for tying all oil company executives to the front of glaciers at the start of spring, and explaining that if they are right about global warming, they won’t drown…

At another level it was quite hilarious. The path from the car park starts with about 100m of a steady moderate gradient, which was covered in sheet ice, in turn running with melt water. Those equipped with crampons (including all members of our group) just walked straight up on down the middle. Those in boots without crampons walked gingerly, occasionally on all fours, close to the path’s edge. And then there was this young oriental couple!

The Hotel Vik is by some margin the worst of the trip (at least so far). The rooms are poky and so poorly lit you can’t see what you’re doing unless you get them to provide an additional lamp. Given what most residents will be doing the lack of either rails to hang damp clothing, or a boot puller is a complete mystery. To sit at the desk you have to make movement between the bathroom and bedroom areas impossible. There was obviously a competition and the architects who claimed to put stuff into the smallest possible space won the job, but it’s not a good one. (Interestingly it only scores 25 on the dysfunctional hotel rooms scheme. That’s high, but not excessive – the issue is more the cumulative effect of everything feeling a bit squeezed and cheap.)

To add insult to injury dinner is served after 7, but happy hour is 4-6. WTF?

In the morning I was almost back to my normal self. Our first stop was the waterfall at Skógafoss. Even though we arrived by about 8.30 the site was already quite full of other visitors. Most of my group resolved this by setting up tripods some distance back and shooting over their heads. I found a different solution, put the 9mm lens on the camera, and walked in front of the grockles to get a clean shot without them. It took a couple of goes to get one before the spray covered the filter, but it worked. Afterwards I felt sufficiently recovered to do the short walk to the high veiwpoint, and was rewarded by an opposing hillside lit by the rising sun in wonderful oranges and browns, with the river and top of the waterfall providing leading lines below. Shot of the day?

After that we headed back to the island of Dyrhólaey. Lee suggested that we might want to try and capture the intricate patterns of foam from waves breaking gently on the black beach. Right:

Once we’d tuned into the stormy sea (not accompanied by a significant local wind) I did manage to get a few different shots, but most involved catching very big waves either in front of, or breaking over, the other features.

After lunch we went down to the Black Beach. Again this rapidly became a game of catching the biggest most threatening looking waves breaking in front of or over the rocks. While doing so I was caught out by a rogue wave which charged up the beach and reached me at thigh level even though I was some distance from the average water position. Fortunately I kept my balance, didn’t fall over or drop the camera, and the combination of muck boots and over trousers kept almost all the water out. One sock was a bit damp, but that’s not too much to complain about when it could have been very much worse.

I had wondered why the flashing light at the entrance was only on amber. I looked up and in the intervening 5 minutes it had gone to red. Fair enough.

We gave up on the Black Beach and drove round to Vik beach, which is usually calmer. Not today. After a short session trying to catch the scariest-looking waves breaking in front of the sea stacks it started to rain, so we finally called it a day.

The following day we moved on from Jökulsárlón to near Höfn, a relatively short drive but we stopped on the way to photograph wonderful light over the hills a mile or two back from the coast, despite the fact that we could only see thick cloud. We also stopped to photograph a cute little yellow house where Lee used to stay in years gone by, and a particularly photogenic group of Icelandic ponies.

We checked in to the hotel quite early, as obviously this far up the coast they are not busy at this time of year. The other good piece of news is that Chris was finally reunited with his missing bag! (After "only" 5 days…)

We took lunch at the Kaffi Hornið. They’re interpretation of the Icelandic principle of "get at least this amount of money out of each tourist" is delicious fare, but portions at least twice the size they need to be. I had a steak sandwich, which was absolutely delicious, but looked suspiciously like a sliced cow between two pieces of bread.

After lunch we found the Höfn computer store, and I was finally equipped with a working mouse, which has transformed the work on my writing and images.

We then drove up to Stokksnes, a small peninsula in the shadow of Vestrahorn Mountain, the famous "witches hat" which extends over a black beach full of small black dunes, and also puddles which were just melting to give me some scope for reflections.

Unfortunately by the end of the visit the cold was starting to catch up with me – I felt very weary and had a dreadful runny nose. I managed dinner, but then went to bed and slept soundly for many hours.

I woke up somewhat rested but still feeling rough, and gave the group breakfast and morning trip a miss. Fortunately this wasn’t a major issue, as the weather closed in and those who went out were battling rain showers and the like.

We again took lunch at the Kaffi Hornið. I tried to negotiate a smaller portion, but failed miserably. Fortunately the fish & chips was less enormous than some of the other options.

I spent the rest of the day alternating between rest (not completely comatose) and sleep (out for the count). I just hope that come tomorrow I will start to feel a bit more human again.

Day 3 started back at Jökulsárlón with another sunrise over the beach. Overnight some larger icebergs had reached the outlet and then beached, and the waves were somewhat higher than the previous day, providing for more dramatic images, but maybe less subtle ones.

Just as the sun rose we noticed wonderful pink light on the hills behind the lagoon, so I made the short walk up from the beach to photograph in this new light. It was also interesting to see just how much the visible bergs had changed, with several large ones poised to leave the lagoon, and others having changed position noticeably since the previous evening.

The other point of interest was the force of the water flow under the bridge and through the lagoon’s outlet. This reverses twice a day and at high tide salt water literally pours into the lagoon, helping to melt the icebergs, then the flow reverses taking any loose ice out to the sea. It was by stopping that flow that the Bond team made the lagoon freeze for the car chase in Die Another Day, then they simply unblocked the outlet and normal service resumed.

After a couple of hours of photography we were ready for coffee, but we again had to choose between the warmth of the cafe, and the use of a seat. I joked that when Lee said there would be limited down-time on the trip, I hadn’t realised he meant limited sitting down time.

Fortunately a resolution presented itself. Several of the group wanted to go back to Fjallasarlon. I joined them, but just went for an extended lunch in the warm, seated cafe at the new visitor centre.

Lee had planned an ice cave tour for the afternoon, but in the middle of lunch started getting messages that our tour had been usurped by a group of 56 school children, which would make serious photography impossible. After a bit of haggling we switched to an alternative cave and the trip was back on.

The drive out was entertaining, in a capable but very noisy and rough super jeep, followed by another long walk on ice to the cave entrance. Once inside we photographed a few "set piece" compositions, but did get a couple of promising images from each. However my expectation of a lengthy walk through a colourful cave went unfulfilled.

The drive out seemed even longer than the drive in, and we were late back to the hotel. Dinner was fine, but I was starting to feel very weary and departed early for bed.

The first full day of the tour started with breakfast, one advantage of being sufficiently far North is that sunrise is around 9, and sunset around 5. After breakfast we drove back to Jökulsárlón and went down onto the Diamond Beach, where many icebergs released from the lagoon are driven. We photographed them with the rising sun behind, with waves breaking over them, and as beautiful sculptures against the black background of the beach’s pebbles.

When we tired of that we went the short distance to the lagoon, which unusually was completely becalmed and in bright, low sunlight allowing for dramatic reflections.

The only problem with Jökulsárlón is that it’s become overrun by a massive number of visitors compared with when I visited in 2011, and the facilities haven’t even remotely kept up. The main cafe now only has standing room inside, and a very limited lunch menu. There are a few food trucks in the car park but each has at least a half-hour wait. And don’t mention the queue for the Ladies…

After an adequate but somewhat constrained lunch of lobster soup we set off for another glacial lagoon, at Fjallasarlon. When I was here before this was completely undeveloped, we drove the jeeps to the edge of the lake, and photographed the lake, a small, distant glacier, and a few icebergs. Not only does it now have a nice new visitor centre, where you can sit down!, but in winter the glacier comes right to the edge of the completely frozen lake on which you can walk.

Like knowing that aurorae are faint to the naked eye, I also "knew" that in clear air distances can be deceptive. Chris and I walked down the relatively short path from the ridge to the lake, and a few hundred metres to a very large, very sculptural iceberg.

At that point I looked at the front edge of the glacier on the other side of the lake and said "that doesn’t look much farther". So we set off. Some time later we were still walking, with our spikes on the ice, and it was only slowly getting closer. Eventually the ice started to look a bit broken and slushy, and we decided for safety’s sake to turn around. When we got back my Fitbit suggested we’d walked around 5km, and Andreas’ drone had recorded 6km going the full distance, safely above the ice. The walk was very enjoyable, but it was a lot further than I had planned.

The last stop of the afternoon was back at Jökulsárlón, however there wasn’t much of a sunset. I got a few more reflection shots, then it was back to the hotel for a nice dinner and early night.

New one for the dysfunctional hotels blog. Not only is the toilet positioned so close to the shower partition that someone with broad shoulders can’t sit straight, but as you sit there the door gradually swings open and comes to rest between your knees, with your left leg wedged firmly up against the partition, and your nose against the door handle. Double fault, 10 points.

Breakfast was complete with all expected humans, but we were collectively short one case which EasyJet had managed to leave at Gatwick, with an expected delivery date in four days’ time, so big Chris was going to have to do some emergency shopping.

We set off on the long drive to Jökulsárlón, our first stop proper. With the whole of southern Iceland covered in a fresh coat of crisp snow it was stunningly beautiful, but the combination of high winds and some ice on the road made it a very hard drive for Lee. Even though the storm had moved on, at times drifting loose snow caused a near white-out, and we passed at least one accident where a large vehicle had effectively pushed another off the road, albeit hopefully without significant injury.

We had a short stop for lunch, but otherwise we were on the road for about 5 hours. However that got us to the new FossHotel near Jökulsárlón, and after checking in we headed for the glacial lagoon, getting there just in time for sunset. There was great light on both the icebergs near the mouth of the lagoon, and also the hills behind it.

Back to the hotel for dinner, and then out again, with fairly clear skies and a good forecast for aurorae. We weren’t disappointed – it got started just as we got there, and put on a stunning show for two hours. I was in my element, with scope for all sorts of wide shots, and the Panasonic 9mm f/1.7 lens I bought for the purpose two years ago finally got used as intended.

One thing of which I was already aware in theory is just how faint the aurora is in practice. With the naked eye it’s just a dim glow and you need long exposures at high ISOs with a fast lens to make more impactful images. With my camera, at least, that leads to quite a noisy RAW image, and I’ll have to experiment to get the best results. However it all looks very promising.

Andrew’s off to Iceland, again. I promise I won’t re-use the fish fingers joke, it wasn’t that funny in 2011…

While I have been to Iceland before, this promises to be quite different. The previous trip was in mid-Summer, run by an Icelandic company, and focused mainly on the highlands, and also the end of season cultural events. This is in the depths of Winter, run by Lee Frost, and focuses largely on the coast. I’m hoping to actually see a bit more ice than last time, and maybe even the aurora.

Hopefully my photographic capabilities have improved in the intervening 12 years. At the very least I won’t be trying to work with the execrable Canon 15-85mm lens, but on the other hand the kit I had on that first trip worked wonderfully photographing the puffins at Dyrholaey, so it may be a question of swings and roundabouts.

My travel arrangements worked smoothly, with the exception of the junction between the M4 and the Heathrow link road which is always a nightmare at peak hours. It’s got the same inadequate design as Junction 10 on the M25, which is currently being reworked at enormous expense into a proper cloverleaf interchange, but I suspect the Heathrow one will just have to soldier on.

Once at the airport I had a couple of very pleasant surprises. The first was that I used the trial of the new security scanning – you literally just dump your bag and coat into a tray, and that’s it – all the messing around with liquids, laptops etc. has gone. At the other end they did divert my bag and inspect a couple of items, so I suspect they are still training the system and its users on what some things look like on the X-Ray, but overall a good experience. Then as I walked into the shopping area I was approached by an elderly man in a volunteer’s outfit who offered me a "random act of kindness" and gave me a £5 voucher which covered the cost of a cup of coffee. Very welcome.

The flight was full, mainly due to the presence of a couple of groups of teenagers obviously on a posh school trip. The entertaining element was that a number of the youngsters, especially the girls, had clearly ignored the notes on weather. I would love to have seen the expression on the face of the young lady with a bare midriff on contact with the Icelandic wind!

As we came in towards Iceland the heavy cloud cleared, and I got a couple of great shots of the coast, covered in snow and lit up in wonderful late afternoon, edge of cloud light.

I have opined at length about alleged airlines who as actually running a bus service. I didn’t expect Icelandair to be one of them, but after taking us off the plane through a proper air corridor, they then guided us down the steps and out into the freezing cold to get on a bus to the terminal proper. I don’t mind walking a bit or getting a bus in tropical temperatures, but I’m not impressed when that actually involves walking on frozen slush and snow. Not impressed.

The hotel was a short walk from the airport, but not all clear of snow and ice which made it slightly more of a challenge than expected. On a positive note they had sent a warning that the heating had been affected because the volcanic eruption had cut the geothermal power pipes, but repairs have been made and it’s warming up nicely.

The rest of the group arrives overnight, so we get cracking tomorrow.

With my Zanzibar trip now firmly behind me, I’ve looked back and tried to condense what I experienced into guidance for future visitors and photographers.

This was my first trip to East Africa, and I came away with a lot of positive feelings. This appears to be a happy, vibrant place with lots of friendly people. Most of the practicalities worked fine, albeit sometimes a bit slowly, in a way familiar to anyone who has travelled in the tropics. I never felt the slightest issue in respect of personal security, and all my commercial transactions were honest and straightforward, although there was inevitably some haggling with shopkeepers to agree a price.

Photographic Subjects and Practices

I did get some great shots of people, beaches and boats, and the snorkelling was easily the best I’ve done in about 20 years. For those happy in a relatively small boat I would thoroughly recommend a dhow trip, and a snorkelling trip with Safari Blue.

Beaches aside, there’s no scenery to speak of. The island is as flat as a pancake, covered with either very generic tropical vegetation or small-scale agriculture, broken intermittently by what are described as "villages" but many of which are in reality small towns of several thousand people. The historical area of Stonetown is home to some fascinating old narrow alleys and tall buildings, but away from there the vernacular architecture is either 1960s communist blocks, or nondescript smaller constructions of concrete blocks and corrugated iron. Both are, let’s be honest, just ugly. In some parts of the world buildings are at least cheered up by being painted in bright colours, but most in Zanzibar are left unpainted in drab greys and browns.

Stonetown does have a wonderful tradition of impressive, studded timber doors. These were present, but unfortunately at the time of our visit almost every one was covered in complex sets of numbers scrawled in chalk, the legacy of a recent census. Hopefully when the process is complete most will be cleaned and returned to their usual photogenic state, but I’ve come away with relatively few shots of these vaunted features.

We didn’t see any wildlife except fish, a few birds, a couple of impressively large rats, and some amazingly colourful dragonflies which frequented the hotel pool but were impossible to photograph. An occasional rustle in the trees or roadside vegetation suggested some slightly larger fauna, but it didn’t make itself obvious.

That brings us to the people. Most were pleasant and interesting, but not all were willing photographic subjects. They seemed to split down into a few groups (albeit with lots of borderline cases):

1. Those who are happy to be photographed without immediate reward. A lot of people in direct tourist-facing roles are naturally in this group, however they are not the majority.
2. Those who can be persuaded, especially if you engage with them first and take a genuine interest in their activity or situation, and then ask permission. This is down to your powers of persuasion, or those of your guide.
3. Those who are happy to pose on the transactional basis that they will be paid. As well as entertainers working for tips you will find a number of the general public who operate on a "dollar for photo" or similar basis. Stallholders who have either just made a sale of who have a real prospect of one are also usually willing.
4. Those who really don’t want to be photographed. I reckon this can be 50% or more in some cases. Some will make it very obvious with a "no photo" or covering their face. You have to acknowledge and honour this.

The reticence of many of the people seems to be down to a combination of the standard Muslim concern about images of people, more modern concerns about publishing one’s likeness, and an annoyance that their daily lives are being scrutinised by foreigners. It has to be said that most of us would be the same if the situation was reversed. I started to feel a bit uncomfortable tramping around the villages, and after a while focused photography on those in groups 1-3.

You also should be alert to those who due to peer pressure appear to be in group 2 or 3, but are actually in group 4. You may detect unease, or just poor poses and expressions – these are passive expressions of the same unwillingness. A good example is where we were invited into school classes, but some of the youngsters were obviously much less comfortable than others. Again, there’s no point in pushing with an unwilling subject.

Finally you have to be aware of the psychological aspects of the photographic process on willing but inexperienced subjects. In a couple of cases we found a great model, but the first photographer in the group thrust an enormous camera and lens into her face and insisted on taking dozens of images, and the rest didn’t get a look in. That’s unfair on both the subject and the other photographers.

If you do have to pay a subject it won’t require much – 1 US dollar is a good reward for a some shots of an adult, and you can scale up to maybe $10 for a group. Carry lots of $1 notes. However it’s not a good idea to pay kids directly – this is clearly driving a lot of poor behaviours.

Photographic Kit

There’s not a great deal to say here. Any good camera should serve you well, and unless you’re going underwater the practical demands are limited. The beauty of Micro Four Thirds allowed me to take a range of lenses covering from ultra-wide angle to long telephoto without breaking the luggage limit, but the longer lenses got very limited use, and a standard pair of zooms covering the equivalent of 24-70mm and 70-200mm or similar would cover the vast majority of subjects.

My new Panasonic G9ii behaved faultlessly, and like its predecessor proved an ideal camera for travelling "light but fully equipped". I took 1662 images on it, about 110 on the Sony Rx100 mk 7, and about 316 using the waterproof Olympus TG6, across about 8 days of "active photography" (as opposed to lying by the pool). The count was lower than many trips, but reflected the limited need for multi-shot techniques or high frame rate action photography. About 50% of the shots have been retained for further processing after an initial edit, higher than usual for the same reasons.

Make sure you have a circular polariser for each lens. I just left mine on most of the time, as the light frequently demands it, and it’s good protection against the dust and moisture. Alternatively you might want to take clear or UV filters, but that’s arguably overkill. My ND filters didn’t come out of the bag, and I didn’t catch any of my companions messing about with square filters, ND Grads and the like – the subjects really didn’t call for it.

Underwater the TG6 worked well enough, and avoided the literally fatal failings of its predecessor. However the images are not that sharp, and battery life is very poor, as I found to my cost when I lost power halfway through the second snorkelling session. If you are doing a trip with multiple snorkel or dive sessions in the water, change the battery after each one, and accept the risk of opening the camera in a less controlled environment.

You could get away without taking a tripod. Mine never left the suitcase. Obviously it depends on your style, and your tolerance for higher ISO for evening shots, but I worked exclusively handheld. By and large it was too cloudy for genuine night photography, and otherwise the light levels and subjects were always workable.

If you are travelling to that part of the world with significant photographic kit, avoid Emirates as an airline. They have a ridiculous 7kg and one piece limit on cabin baggage which they enforce quite enthusiastically. My work-around was to wear a photographer’s vest which ended up almost as heavy as my bag, but I shouldn’t have to be forced to do so.

Otherwise that’s about it. The phrase which sums it up well is "f/8 and be there…"

Practicalities

This section does need a significant "your mileage may vary" warning – it reflects my experiences and others may be different. For example all the advice beforehand warned that insects might be a major issue, but I was sufficiently untroubled that by the end of the trip I wasn’t even putting repellent on, just making sure the mosquito net was secure overnight. However another member of the group did get a very nasty bite on the first night…

Zanzibar is well set up for tourism, and a lot of things "just worked". With one ultimately amusing exception, I didn’t experience any major hotel room malfunctions. Toilets were uniformly clean and functional. Transport arrangements were unproblematic.

Money is straightforward. Take lots of small US dollar bills for tips and small purchases – these are uniformly acceptable, the locals are well versed in applying a pragmatic exchange rate and rounding up or down as required, and it keeps your wallet simple. You can also get Tanzanian Shillings, or you might receive some in change, and that’s not a problem apart from the fact that the exchange rate is about 2500 to the $, or 3200 to the £, so you need to be careful with the number of zeroes! Larger bills will be presented in USD and can be settled with a credit card – just live with the small surcharge.

You will need a guide unless you’re just sticking to the environs of the hotels, and you will need a driver if you’re moving around. The main roads between towns and around Stonetown are very good and I’d be perfectly comfortable driving them, but get 10m off them and they are biblically bad. Both services are readily available at reasonable cost, so let them take the strain.

It is hot – in the 30s Celsius during the day, low 20s overnight, and humid, often without much of a breeze. Wear high factor sunscreen and be prepared to change your clothing fairly regularly. Be respectful with your clothing, but I didn’t find it necessary to follow the "cover up" guidance you get from some sources. A T shirt and shorts should be OK.

Try and adapt to the temperature. In your hotel room turn the air conditioning off, and the fan on. I slept like a log, but then I am used to the tropics and run a warm house at home. This is one of those YMMV bits.

One complaint we did have is that not enough water is served in hospitality settings. In most warm countries the first thing that happens in a restaurant or hotel is you get a glass of cold water, served from a freshly-opened bottle when required. Not in Zanzibar, you have to ask for water at meals, and you may have to manage your own supply in the hotel room. It’s not a problem – bottled water is readily available and inexpensive, but you do need to be alert to the issue and make sure you don’t accidentally get dehydrated.

Be absolutely religious about sticking to bottled water for drinking and tooth-cleaning. One of our party made a mistake on the latter and was then ill. I did try filling a kettle from the tap, but the cloudy fluid didn’t look like even boiling it would necessarily remove everything untoward, and I switched back to bottled water even for tea.

We all suffered from some measure of "tummy trouble", some, as in my case, fairly minor, some less so. My suspicion fell on the attractive salads and ice cream served by the Z Hotel, and I switched to the "bottle and burger" diet. This is very simple: don’t drink anything you didn’t see come out of a bottle – water, wine, beer and spirits are fine, but no cocktails. Don’t eat anything which hasn’t been baked, grilled or fried immediately before serving. Hot drinks are OK, as are boiled vegetables but only if they are still steaming – cold rice and similar are a no-no. It worked for me.

After the trip we did share our concerns about the salads with the hotel manager who assured us that all vegetables were washed using boiled water. As they say in the British Parliament, "I refer the gentleman to my earlier statement."

I mentioned that in most respect most of the hotel rooms worked quite well. However we did get one new entry for the dysfunctional hotels blog. In my first room at the Emerson Hotel in Stonetown the active and spare toilet rolls were strung on a rope from the ceiling, conveniently positioned for when required. In principle this is a good design, however in a tropical downpour on the first night water got in from outside, ran down the rope, and soaked both rolls. Annoying, especially as this is not an obvious failure until your need is unavoidable!

Service and Sophistication

Service was always willing and helpful, but occasionally annoying despite the good intentions. Paying or signing for drinks at the hotels is a good example. The staff don’t want to bother you while, or immediately after, consuming your drink. That’s great, but it can turn into either an interminable wait when you’re ready to go, or to your being pursued around the hotel with an unsigned chitty at shift end. Being proactive doesn’t necessarily help: I got a great cup of coffee early one morning, but while the barman could work the coffee machine to good effect, neither he nor any of the other staff on duty could work the till. I had to come back later.

More complex services are a mixed bunch. I had absolutely outstanding service from Safari Blue who not only provided a snorkelling trip but also arranged my travel, meals and changing facilities for my final day.

On the other hand I was also hoping to get two additional side-trips into the last few days: a deep sea fishing trip, and a catamaran cruise. I have done each many times in the Caribbean, you just ring up, book your place, turn up and pay. Often they even provide a taxi from your hotel. Not in Zanzibar. You can’t walk 100 yards down the beach without someone pestering you about a fishing trip, but it’s a completely different commercial model. They will happily charter you a boat, for anywhere between $400 and $1000, but it’s then your job to fill it. There’s no such thing as a "shared" trip where they do that work, apart from the dhow cruises. I couldn’t interest my companions, so the week came and went without fishing or a catamaran trip.

It’s apparent that the challenges in the educational system are failing many Zanzibarians. The inability to work the till was one example, but in fairness that was obviously a "training" hotel. However I found quite a few examples of limited reasoning skills or "learned stupidity". For example, The Z Hotel will make you a nice latte and serve it in a tall glass as per custom. So far so good. They have two sizes of saucers in their crockery set: a larger one with a dimple the right size for the latte glasses, and a smaller one where the dimple is too small and the glass wobbles alarmingly on top. You can guess which one they had all been told to use, and no amount of demonstrating the issue to the waiters every day for a week made a blind bit of difference.

Compared with some other tropical locations, there does seem to be a genuine intention to try and reduce the environmental impact of both general living and tourism. Waste was minimised and well-managed, with impressive recycling or reduction of most plastics. I even saw an old lady recycling nylon rope, using exactly the same method as others use with coconut fibres. That said there are some messy corners in villages, and on some non-tourist beaches, but you feel that they are trying to do the right thing.

And Finally…

There’s a Swahili phrase which gets a lot of use: "Pole Pole" (pronounced pole-ay, literally "slowly, slowly"). Sometimes this is meant as "go carefully", for example when getting on or off a boat. But it’s also an excuse, like "island time" or "maņana". If you’ve travelled in the tropics before the relaxed timekeeping and unhurried approach will be nothing new. If you haven’t, then sit back and relax – there’s not much you can do about it!

Several of us tacked a few days onto the end of the tour, primarily for a lie in the sun next to the Indian Ocean. For that the Z Hotel was perfect, with a beautiful pool literally on the edge of the beach. Some of the group were keen and insisted on hiking up to the fish market every morning, but between a touch of gout and tummy trouble I was content to take it easy and just soak up the rays.

The beach at Nungwi shelves very slowly, with high tide almost reaching the hotel steps, but low tide allowing you to walk out 100 yards, maybe twice that if you don’t mind getting wet up to your knees. It’s also famous for its starfish, which are regularly swept around the shallow reefs within walking distance. You don’t need specialist equipment to photograph these – a phone will do nicely if it’s rated for the odd short immersion. I had the TG6 and my snorkel, so I could go out with the tide a bit higher and get them in slightly deeper water which removed any issue with reflections from the surface.

I was also hoping to get two additional side-trips into the last few days: a deep sea fishing trip, and a catamaran cruise. I have done each many times in the Caribbean, you just ring up, book your place, turn up and pay. Often they even provide a taxi from your hotel. Not in Zanzibar. You can’t walk 100 yards down the beach without someone pestering you about a fishing trip, but it’s a completely different commercial model. They will happily charter you a boat, for anywhere between $400 and $1000, but it’s then your job to fill it. There’s no such thing as a "shared" trip where they do that work, apart from the dhow cruises which I’d already experienced. Sadly none of the others on Lee’s trip were keen, so the week came and went without fishing or a catamaran trip.

Happily I fared better on snorkelling, although there were some "administrative complexities"… Two of our group, Richard and Laura, had come out to Zanzibar early to do a dive, and they’d also been on a snorkelling trip with Safari Blue which they highly recommended. The only trouble was that the trip was based out of Fumba, some distance south of Stonetown and 1-2 hours’ drive from Nungwi, not ideal for a day trip. However I was also looking at the problem of a very late flight back, which would potentially mean paying the hotel for another day’s use of the room, and we came up with a cunning plan.

I got in touch with the very helpful Khamis at Safari Blue, who organised the whole thing. For an extra $65 I would get a driver for the whole of my final day, who would pick me up from my hotel and drive me down to Fumba for the trip. My luggage would stay in his vehicle under his watch. After the trip I could get a shower and meal at the Kayak Club in Fumba, change into my travel gear, and then the driver would drive me straight to the airport. The total for the driver and the trip actually worked out less than the hotel would charge for a day room and an airport transfer, so the snorkelling trip even saved me money! And it worked like a dream. I did have to talk the driver and the people at the Kayak Club through the arrangements, but once they understood they were all very helpful, and I ended up at the airport fed, luggage intact and fresh for the flight.

The trip itself was excellent. "Captain Morgan" (a stage name, I suspect) welcomed about 15 of us onto a medium-sized wooden sailing boat and took us first to a small sand-bar to see some seabirds, then out to the shallow reefs for snorkelling. This was easily the best snorkelling I had done in 20 years, splendid colourful coral and numerous entertaining fish, some of whom were actively curious coming up to the camera to be photographed. Lunch was taken on a small island with a fish BBQ followed by a "fruit tasting" with Captain Morgan. After lunch we routed back to Fumba beach via an area frequented by dolphins, and were privileged to see a number swimming round and breaking the water. I got very lucky with one grab shot of one of the dolphins breaching clear of the water – pretty much my last shot of the trip, but what a last shot. A bit blurry due to the distance, but who cares. Job done.

As is traditional, here’s my group panorama from the “last supper”. From left to right Louise, Andrew (yours truly), Other Andrew (“Spike”), Ann, Mark, Richard, Lee, Sarah, Nicola, Jon and Michelle.

As it was shot in very low light I passed it through Topaz Photo AI to reduce the noise and clean it up a bit. I love the cheerfully judgemental language Topaz uses, but I will spare the blushes of the 5 of us it deemed as having “low quality faces”!

The departure time for the morning shoot was set even earlier than on previous days and I again demurred, preferring to catch up on sleep now my body had adapted to the warm. Apparently I missed a shark being landed by one of the fishing crews, but I suspect I still made the right decision.

After breakfast we went to tour another village, Pwani Mchangani. Although a similar size to Matemwe, and only a few miles down the coast, this had an oddly different feeling. The fact that we weren’t constantly pestered by children, some bad-tempered, helped, but it was interesting that the locals with whom we interacted were much happier to pose for the camera, with a cheerful and friendly demeanour. There were signs of slightly greater prosperity: a café in the centre of the village, a couple of tourist shops and more busy-looking local ones. The difference was subtle, but significant, and made the visit more pleasant and productive.

Dhow Trip

For the last full day of the main tour, Lee had arranged a sunset dhow cruise. At 4.30 we waded out a few yards and climbed into a dhow, one of several which now focuses on tourist rather than fishing duties. The captain used the outboard to get off the beach and pointed in the right direction, but otherwise we were under sail immediately. To our amusement our guide, Omar, was literally "learning the ropes" and operating as an extra crew member. You didn’t need much Swahili to realise he had a fair bit to learn.

After a short jaunt northwards the sail was set for the opposite direction and we headed steadily down the beach, getting great views of the hotels, the other pleasure boats and all manner of goings on. The majority of hotels are moderate in size and nestle neatly into the shore, but there is one behemoth which looks completely out of place. Obviously the planning process in Zanzibar is driven as much by brown envelopes as elsewhere.

We eventually turned northwards once more, with the sun bathing the beach in a warm glow. Shortly before sunset another dhow kept pace with us and, whether by accident or design is unclear, positioned itself perfectly against the sunset. Almost the last shot of the tour was the one many of us had been expecting all week. Result!

I carefully did not set my alarm, so that I would not have to get up to join the sunset shoot, which would be another walk up and down the length of the beach. However this all proved academic when it started raining heavily just before dawn and the whole thing was abandoned anyway.

Wary of the risks of repetition Lee had organised a morning trip to Matemwe, another village on the north east coast. Although there are allegedly some new hotels and private houses on that part of the island, Matemwe appears to be relatively self-contained and unspoiled, but, one suspects, even less prosperous than its neighbours.

After our guide, Omar, explained what we were doing we got a mixed reception. The older characters around the fish market were happy to be photographed, but many did not really understand the concept of smiling for the camera. On the other hand we were, within seconds of our arrival, swamped by vast numbers of primary-school-age children, who certainly did understand the concept, but who were also obviously aware that there might be money to be had. Some posed nicely, but a few were outright naughty and, when it was apparent that the adults were to receive the money, even a bit aggressive.

As we wound our way through the village we, and in particular Nicola, our very own pied piper, were followed by an enthusiastic "tail" of the more persistent youngsters.

For the afternoon shoot Lee suggested being prepared to wade into the sea to get lower angles on the boats. I took the instruction literally, and dressed in trunks, a non-precious T shirt, and took only the TG6 waterproof camera. This paid dividends in two ways. I got some unique shots of the dhows with low reflections, but when I waded right out to meet an incoming fishing boat I was welcomed and allowed to photograph boat, fish and crew without any restrictions.

We made an early start and met our new guide, Omar, at about 5.30. He immediately set off at a pace which would not have disgraced some military route marches, through the rough back streets of Nungwi. This was a bit of a shock to those of us expecting, and shod for, a gentle walk along the beach.

Activity around the fish market was much less manic than in Stonetown, but we got to see some very large fish including rays and marlin being landed and then auctioned. While there was no sunrise to speak of, once the sun started peeking through the trees to the east the boats were lit beautifully.

We opted for the beach route back to the hotel and breakfast. Circuit 1 complete, 4km.

After breakfast we met Omar for the official village tour. We returned to the back streets of Nungwi, first stop the school where we had a very interesting talk / fundraising exercise from the school principle. This was almost heart-breaking. He and his staff are obviously caring, determined educators, but they are battling with large class sizes (80-100 in some cases) and close to zero resources. The school’s textbook store (for almost 2000 pupils) is not much larger than my office bookshelf, and they have to teach “sending an email” in theory because they don’t have any computers for pupils. They will be receiving the contents of my “goodie bag”, plus a more substantial donation when I get home.

Apart from that there wasn’t a great deal to the back streets of Nungwi. Most of the adults would prefer not to be photographed. Most of the children are less concerned, but we attracted the attention of a group of very excitable youngsters who made it a challenge to take photos. I got a nice photo of a pretty young girl, but what you can’t see is that I took this one-handed with the camera in my right hand, while my left hand was holding back the naughtiest young boys from trying to photo-bomb her.

Village toured we set off back to the hotel for lunch. Circuit 2 complete, another 5km+.

The geographic challenges of Nungwi were becoming apparent. All the hotels are on the west side, stretching down the long beach. The village and other photographic targets are on the northern stretch, and it’s a fair hike between them. This would be less of an issue except for the sweltering heat, and by lunchtime one member of the party had retired with heat exhaustion, and I was distinctly wavering about going out again.

Fortunately I did. I came up with the eminently sensible and simple solution of getting a taxi from the hotel back to the fish market. This didn’t save any time – the roads are so bad the taxis struggle to maintain a walking pace – but saved the energy and legs of those who opted for it.

The afternoon session focused on the dhow builders. This was absolutely fascinating. These highly-skilled craftsmen work with the simplest of hand tools to fashion mangrove and mango wood into the beautiful boats. The sequence is that first they lay down the keel with prow and stern timbers, then they build up the hull on the keel with temporary side supports, and then they fit the ship’s ribs into it. I must have spent an hour or more watching a chap take a curved length of tree trunk, and work it with a hand adze into a perfectly-fitted rib with a square profile and surfaces smooth to the touch as if they had been planed and sanded.

With the sun setting we walked back down the beach. Circuit 3 complete. My FitBit reported that the day’s activities amounted to 18.5k steps and 14km, and I’d taken a taxi for one of the legs (well, both my legs, but you know what I mean)! That may be a personal best for a trip of this nature. Hard work, but rewarding when you find the right subject.

I eschewed the opportunity for a 4.30 start. Instead I took advantage of the lack of an arms race between the various religious factions regarding who can wake up whom earlier, and had a bit of a lie-in. After a more gentle awakening I wandered down to the equally beautify and empty beach below the Fun Beach Hotel, and got some nice early morning shots although the cloud cover prevented a full sunrise.

On my way back I stopped at the bar and managed to get a very tasty latte. However it appears that "make coffee" and "operate till" are different modules in the hotel’s training course, and a succession of four bar and support staff were unable to print out a bill for me to sign. Never mind, it was still a very nice coffee.

After breakfast we packed up and set out on the next leg of the tour which would take us from near the south east tip to right at the northern one. Our first stop was the splendidly-named Bububu. Apparently this dates back to the building of Zanzibar’s one railway in 1905. The locals who lived near the northern terminus vocalised the sound of the steam trains as "Bu Bu Bu" and the name stuck.

When Lee scouted out this trip in 2019 Bububu was working hard as the temporary main fish market, the large market in Stonetown being closed for extensive modernisation. In the 4-year interim that business has moved back to the new buildings at Malindi, and Bububu has reverted to a quiet stretch of beach hosting a handful of fishing boats and not much else. We spent a pleasant half an hour wandering along the sand, but it was not quite as billed.

Lunch was taken at a large, spacious, well-equipped but almost empty hotel a mile up the road. It’s not obvious what their target market is: they are too far out to be genuinely convenient for Stonetown 7 miles away, and they don’t have the extensive beaches and other tourist services of the Jambiani and Nungwi areas. Maybe there is a market for an out of town convention centre, but it’s not obvious. The arrival of 10 hungry and thirsty photographers obviously threw them completely and they couldn’t even supply beer, but we did get a tasty if slightly overpriced vegetable curry to keep the wolf from the door.

The next stop was Mkokotoni, on the Northwestern coast. This had distinctly more going on, as it’s the terminus for the ferries connecting the adjacent small islands. Traffic was high, apparently because a local character had died and a large number of locals had been to the funeral on the island. The sea floor is very flat, which leads to an interesting loading and unloading process. The ferry brings the people and goods to within about 100m of the water’s edge, at which point they transfer to a smaller boat pushed through the water by another ferryman. About 10m out they disembark and wade through the remainder until it’s dry enough to put shoes on.

We were also treated to the spectacle of a boat being burned. Less dramatic than this sounds, it’s the standard way to prevent too much algal build-up on the wooden hulls. A few times a year they haul the boat out, set a fire of coconut matting around it and burn off all the algae before re-sealing the wood.

Back in the bus we headed the short distance to our final stop, the Z Hotel in Nungwi. It’s a smart hotel, but the beach is very busy with both six-legged and two-legged pests – you can hardly move for hawkers. I have to admit I was expecting something more like Jambiani: open and largely unoccupied, but apparently not. Fingers crossed that it works.

We made an early start and headed for Zanzibar’s South East coast. The trip took a bit longer than expected, but at least we were in a comfortable air-conditioned bus. After dropping our luggage at the hotel we headed for the local village, where a guide took us to the school, and then demonstrations of making rope, grated coconut, coconut milk and woven elements all from the same tree. I had a go at the coconut scraping machine, which consists of sitting on a low stool with a very sharp blade between your, er, coconuts, and trying not to scrape anything other than coconut. Ooh-er.

It was very, very hot and by the end of the demonstrations we were all flagging a bit and headed for a slightly early lunch. I was focused on food and beer. However as we stepped out of the alleyway onto a beach all that evaporated at the sight of dozens of an aquamarine sea in amazing pre-storm light dotted with beautiful old dhows. I was in photographic heaven all the way for the long walk down the beach to our lunch venue.

After a very good lunch with, for a very welcome change, copious quantities of water (but sadly no beer) we waded out after the receding tide for a demonstration of seaweed farming, and photographed some women collecting shellfish. While we were drying out we were entertained by a tumbling act.

Back at the rather excellent if misleadingly named "Fun Beach Hotel" we spent the last couple of hours sitting around an enormous pool with pina-coladas. That’s more like it!

Dinner experienced a failure none of us had previously encountered. The food was tasty, well-cooked and accurately served. The drinks were another matter…

I had a fore-taste when the collective bar staff failed to comprehend the following related concepts:

• Yes, I did want to order 4 pina coladas, to be delivered to my cabin by the pool
• No, I was not going to drink them all. Other people would drink 3 of them
• No, I did not need to provide their room details. I was happy to pay for all 4 on my bilk

The first inkling of a problem surfaced when they served pre-dinner beers with what looked suspiciously like tooth mugs. Mine tasted as if some of the toothpaste was still there.

Several of the group ordered water (yet again not a default…) They received a large bottle of water and a shot glass.

Mark ordered a bottle of wine to share with me. The bottle turned up, but no glasses. We asked for glasses.

Two pina colada glasses turned up. We sent them away.

Two shot glasses turned up. In desperation we accepted them and started doing Merlot shots.

The general manager was consulted. Two wine glasses arrived, but one was immediately taken away to provide a glass of wine for Louise.

A few minutes later a third wine glass was located, and Mark could finally get the full benefit.

One wonders if this is a regular occurrence…

Night 2 was an improvement on night 1, but I was awoken by an unfortunate combination of back-ache (something to do with all the steep stairs?) and a very early Muslim call to prayer.

We started at the big Malindi fish market. I’ve been in fish markets before, but never anything on this vast scale. Zanzibar has a separate government ministry for the "blue economy", and you understand why when you see the amount of fish being landed and traded, twice daily, at Malindi. Photographically it’s a good location, with a lot of activity and interesting characters, both human and piscine. As you’re not either involved in or impeding the commercial activity there’s no great issue with taking photographs, although you do have to honour the wishes of anyone who indicates that they don’t want to be photographed.

After breakfast we hit another large market, an indoor one focused mainly on foodstuffs. The contrast couldn’t be greater. The spice stalls might be colourful, but the vendors are competing very aggressively for your attention and don’t easily take no for an answer. Other stall-holders are less obviously in line for your business, but many of them either say "no photo" or demand money. Given the relatively limited light as well, I tired very rapidly and beat a retreat, to find most of the rest of the group had done the same. We did have a pleasant wander through the streets back to the restaurant booked for lunch (another excellent meal, I had coconut lobster), but I didn’t get much in the way of images.

Later in the afternoon we wandered back down to the harbour, to find it much less manic than on Sunday, and with a couple of groups of lads doing dramatic jumps into the water. I was particularly taken by a group dressed in honour of the Cameroonian football team, one of whom was wearing a proper superhero outfit including cape. Great fun.

Toward sunset we wandered back to the supposed sunset location. The beach was busier, the riff-raff ban presumably lifted, but still no dhows. We baled early – let’s hope it works at Nungwi.

No sooner is the Red Rock Blog committed to the Internet, then I’m off travelling again. This is yet another catch-up multiply deferred due to the pandemic. While all the travel this year has been great, it’s been a bit manic and I won’t mind if 2024 is a bit more measured.

The destination this time is Zanzibar. I thought it would be a really exotic and unusual target, but in the last two weeks I must have talked to four people who replied either “been there” or “it’s on my list”, so maybe it’s not.

The flights were smooth and uneventful, except both legs ran about an hour late, and we had to get on a bus in Dubai. At least I didn’t have a missed connection like Lee and Ann, the tour leaders. Emirates seem to be operating on the same basis as Omar Sharif in Lawrence of Arabia and training their guests to operate on the same amount of water as a determined Bedouin tribesman. Fortunately I had bought a bottle, otherwise I would have been gasping.

It is a bit disconcerting when the crew are making an announcement in Arabic and you clearly recognise the words “Marburg Virus”. I’m old enough to remember when the shorthand for haemorrhagic fever was the name of that unfortunate town in West Germany, not a small river in the Congo. When Jim Bergerac and his colleagues had to deal with an outbreak in Jersey it was Marburg not Ebola. Just for balance a notice at the Zanzibar airport mentioned the Congolese name as well. None of that was mentioned in anything I saw before I travelled, but hopefully any real problem is a long way from the tourist centres.

The Emerson Hotel is a posh Victorian colonial home converted to a hotel, obviously under the Tanzanian equivalent of grade 3 listing. Sod’s law my room is at the top of 6 flights of what may be the steepest stairs I have ever encountered. The compensation is a roof-top view of the harbour area.

The sleep deprivation experience is not quite as marked as some photographic trips, but they are trying hard. I slept through from about 9pm to midnight, at which point there was an enormous clap of thunder about every 15 minutes. That went on for a couple of hours, then subsided. I was just getting back to sleep and the rain started hammering down. As my room is on the top floor directly under a tin roof I got the full “benefit”. The rain lasted at least half an hour, after which I drifted off again, to be awakened at 6am by someone banging out a crude repetitive rhythm on a anvil (or maybe a particularly tuneless bell). It’s not clear whether that’s a standard feature or a Sunday treat. So much for a lie-in!

New one for the dysfunctional hotels blog. During the rainstorm some water came in and ran down the rope holding both active and spare toilet rolls, both of which are now soaked!

After breakfast I moved from the rooftop room to a larger one lower down as per the original allocation plan, so hopefully night 2 will be more peaceful.

We were let out on our own before lunch. I visited the Freddie Mercury museum (he was born to love you in Zanzibar) and managed to buy two T shirts which is close to a personal best. Back to the hotel and everyone had finally arrived despite an impressive combination of flight delays and re-routings.

We spent the afternoon of the first day wandering the streets in a slightly more structured way with Alawi our guide, but sunset was a wash-out as all the locals had been chucked off the beach to avoid a visiting dignitary having to look at riff-raff, and there were no dhows coming and going. Maybe tomorrow.

With our trip now firmly in the rear-view mirror, I’ve looked back and tried to condense what we experienced into guidance for future visitors and photographers.

The primary purpose of our Red Rock Trip was very definitely to look at the rocks and take pictures. On that it scored 100%. The scenery of Southern Utah, Northern Arizona and the adjacent bits of Nevada is as stunning as it always has been – “always” in this case being as long as sentient beings have been there to look at it.

We finally hit the sweet spot in terms of the time at each location. A lot of Grand Circle Tours, and similar jaunts through this area, are predicated on spending a day or so at each stop, aiming to tick off all the well-known sites on a whirlwind tour. That’s what we did back in 1994. Our 2007 trip was a bit more relaxed, but we still covered a lot of ground and left some places feeling we hadn’t done them justice.

At the other end of the scale, if you are a keen hiker or off-road driver you could spend a week or more at some of these locations and not repeat yourself, but that’s more of a challenge if you’re focused on the readily-accessible parts. The sweet spot, at least for us, seems to be about three nights, with two full days plus maybe a late afternoon wander on arrival, and a sunrise before departure. If you need to allow for the possibility of poor weather then make it four nights, but be prepared for a bit of repetition if the skies stay as you want them.

The exception is Kanab. Like Moab, at the opposite end of the Great Circle route, it’s a wonderful base for exploration in all directions. It works for daytrips to all the great locations on the Paria Plateau, the Grand Canyon North Rim and Zion. With an early start it would even work for Bryce Canyon. Some of the local spots, such as the Toadstools and Peekaboo Canyon, are also excellent, but don’t waste your time on Johnson Canyon! We spent 5 days, but could have filled one or two more.

As in many things, there is a bit of a Law of Diminishing Returns, and you may get to the point of being “Canyoned Out”. If you can afford to do so, consider a couple of shorter trips rather than one long one. Alternatively do something similar to what we did, and build progressively to the most dramatic locations near the end.

Cost, Accommodation and Food

The days when a US fly-drive was a relatively inexpensive holiday are long gone. I complained about the expense of our Hawaii trip in 2019 compared with other travel that year, but this year was much worse, and in money terms easily doubled the expense of any previous holiday except the Hawaii one.

There were a number of contributing factors, some under our control, others not. We opted to spend a few more days than usual, just over three weeks rather than just under on previous trips. After bad experiences with some very poor alleged “hotels” in Hawaii (one of which was just a step above “doss house”) we went up a notch in some cases, although not always successfully. We went to Hertz for the hire car, and deliberately chose a mid-range SUV with four wheel drive, but we could probably have done most (but not all) of the driving in something a bit cheaper. We took a hit on the 3rd night’s hotel booking in Las Vegas, choosing instead to get out of town and on with the more enjoyable part of the trip.

However beyond that things were outside our control. An element of the change was due to inflation, and it didn’t help that the pound was weaker against the dollar, ironically for a short period almost exactly coinciding with our trip.

The travel and hospitality sectors are desperately trying to recoup their losses during the pandemic. Some of this shows up in reduced service levels, expecting the customer to do something the provider traditionally did, like making the bed on a daily basis, but more often it results in higher prices. We stayed in a couple of hotels we had visited before, but the price had not far off doubled since 2007. In other cases, like the hotels near Bryce Canyon and Capitol Reef, there was blatant price gouging, admittedly supported by high demand.

That said, all the hotels were good, with spacious rooms in which things worked correctly, and mostly quiet once you’d unplugged the fridge and turned off the AC. However I’d give most of the hotel restaurants a wide berth.

You don’t visit the Desert Southwest for the gastronomic experience, or at least not in a good way. At best the food is basic but good, more often it’s just basic, occasionally (the Cameron “fine dining” encounter springs to mind) it’s actively bad. However in previous years this was compensated by low prices. No longer. Every “decent” meal cost over $100, typically for one shared course, one course for two, and a couple of drinks. Breakfasts were $50. There were a few honourable exceptions, like the Mexican restaurant in St. George, but few and far between.

Shopping

In previous years I have leaned heavily on my US holidays to top up my wardrobe. American shopkeepers understand that people with a waist of 40″ and inside leg of 32″ are equally likely, if not more so, to have money to buy clothes as those the other way around. UK shopkeepers are blind to this, and keep stock only for men whose careers are either in modelling, or cleaning pipes. Furthermore in the past the US has been a reliable source of colourful T-shirts and sweatshirts with designs featuring great scenery, charismatic megafauna, or native American designs.

But not this year. The merchandising in and around the parks was, frankly, appalling, mainly “lowest common denominator” graphic designs which looked like they came from the pen of a capable 8 year old. I only found a couple of suitable T-shirts, and those were in “last season’s stock” sale in a small campsite shop. I bought a sweatshirt and hoodie, but they were generic items from big manufacturers. And that was about it. Frances fared slightly better, but only just.

I appreciate that fashions change, and some of my favourite items are now quite long in the tooth, but it seems odd that a lucrative market is being served so badly when it was previously served so well. Disappointing.

Organised Trips

This is a positive story. I did three jeep tours: one with Backcountry Safaris in Capitol Reef, and two out of Kanab with Dreamland Safaris. All were excellent, well driven and guided (even if young Alex’s driving style on the highway took a bit of getting used to), got me close to scenery I would not otherwise have reached, and in the grand scheme of things good value for money. If you want to go beyond the areas which are a short walk from the public car park, I strongly recommend a jeep tour.

The Grand Canyon flight wasn’t quite such a resounding success, especially compared with my helicopter and microlight flights back in 2018 and 2019. It was well-enough done, although given that I had explicitly requested a good seat for photography shunting me into the rear seat with scratched windows wasn’t the best, and I’m not sure I would recommend Grand Canyon Airlines. If you want to get close to the action, choose a helicopter over a fixed-wing flight.

Photography: “f/8 and be there”

Technically, getting good photographs of a trip like this is not a challenge. Get yourself to the right place, at a reasonable time, and you can’t go too far wrong. There were plenty of visitors shooting with their phones who will probably get acceptable results in most cases. While I am sure there will be purists/snobs who say different, I’d say almost any interchangeable lens digital camera with a couple of zooms, used properly, should give great results.

In terms of getting to the right place I continue to recommend the Photographing the Southwest series by Laurent Martrès*. The books were updated fairly recently, and are now available in Kindle format which means you can check detailed instructions on your phone. I’d have never found “Photo Point” in Zion without it (“40 feet to the south of the un-named car park between stops 7 and 8”).

Yet again the Panasonic G9 proved a reliable workhorse, used for all but a few evening shots. Although the 12-35mm standard zoom did most of the work I used almost my whole range of lenses from 9mm to 300mm, however I don’t think I got anything useful with the heavy and flare-prone 7-14mm. (Although given that I missed it in Patagonia when I didn’t have it with me, I don’t regret carrying it.) A couple of “birds in flight” shots weren’t great, but that’s not the G9’s forte – otherwise it delivered on almost every image. The G9’s mk II successor is now in my hands, but it’s got an impressive record to live up to.

I came back with 86GB of images, a total of 3236 shots on the G9 plus a handful each on the Sony RX100 and Panasonic GX8. As there wasn’t much “action” photography the initial discard rate was quite low, so I have a lot to get through. I did do a lot of panoramas, so many so that I have had to develop a new workflow process to triage them, but otherwise this trip was light on multi-shot images, with only a handful of HDR and focus blend shots.

The only real challenges were dynamic range, especially in the slot canyons, and flare. The simple solution for dynamic range is to turn on all the camera’s over-exposure warnings and dial in sufficient exposure compensation to avoid badly blown highlights. As long as you’re shooting RAW you can then usually tweak highlight and shadow recovery to bring the image back into range. In extremis you can also do an HDR bracket, which should be easy given the static nature of most subjects, but I would be surprised if I have a handful of images for which this is really necessary.

Flare was more of an issue. Some of the obvious sunrise and sunset shots meant shooting into the sun, but there was also an issue shooting near mid-day when direct sunlight was hitting the front of the lens at a very shallow angle. I’m very bad at remembering my lens hoods, but quite good at taking a shot with one hand while suitably positioning my hat with the other. I think this is a case of “do what I say, not what I do” and remember your lens hoods!

I’m not sure I actually took my tripod out of the suitcase. With the G9’s amazing dual image stabilisation I can hand-hold down to about 1/4s, and with a moderate-fast ISO and a fast lens that is adequate for even pre-dawn shots. However this is definitely a case for personal preference and knowing the limits of your camera and your hands.

Many of these locations are really wonderful at golden hour, if you can make the timing work. The Devil’s Garden is a case in point, just remember it’s where the map says it is, not the car’s satnav! However other locations are actually better during the day – Sunset Point at Bryce Canyon only really works until about 5pm in early October, and many of the other Bryce locations are best shot in strong late morning light. That’s good news for practical travellers, who have to take their photographs during the daytime. I’m very happy with what I got in most cases, but I did run with polarising filters fitted to all the lenses almost permanently, except for a few pre-dawn shots, to reduce specular reflections and deepen the colours.

We were lucky with the weather, with brief rain only a couple of times, and most days were sunny and bright. We had our share of fluffy white clouds, but I’m also OK with “picture postcard” blue skies. If that’s what you get and you don’t like it, at least an even blue makes “sky replacement” easy .

More tricky were the handful of days when it was overcast and dull. We suffered that on our previous drive through Capitol Reef and didn’t even realise what was there. However if life gives you lemons, then crank up the contrast using the dehaze and curves tool in your chosen image processor, and you should still get an acceptable result.

One Line Summary

People very friendly, rocks very pretty, avoid almost everything that says “fine dining”!

* Affiliate link

I made an early start and made the short drive to Sunrise Point. This one is aptly named – you see the sun rise over the distant plateaus, and then a minute or so later the rocks in the amphitheatre are progressively lit with strong, glowing light. However unlike some locations the show is over quite quickly with everyone departing within about 15 minutes.

After breakfast we had a second go at the viewpoints along the Scenic Drive. Second time lucky – it all worked perfectly and we saw stunning scenery in great light. Our favourite is probably Paria Views – a very wide gap in the Rim with cliffs pointing in several different directions.

After a few hours in the sun I decided to try Sunset Point at sunset. Plan A, to use the shuttles and avoid parking problems failed when I realised the last buses run well before sunset. I jumped in the Ag-war, and managed to get parked, but needn’t have bothered as most of the amphitheatre was already in deep shadow. Sunset Point should really be renamed Late Afternoon Point.

Fortunately I had a detailed National Geographic map, which confirmed my suspicion that part of the cliffs at Paria Views should point the right way. A few minutes later I was able to confirm this and spent a pleasant half an hour watching the last rays gradually leave the rocks.

Heading Back

For sunrise I headed back to Sunrise Point, but this time took up position a few hundred meters down the Queen’s Garden Trail for a different perspective.

After breakfast we packed up to move on, and tried to do a couple of remaining viewpoints with mixed results. Two were fine and at least Frances got to see the amphitheatre, but parking was already impossible at the others. The cause seemed to be the issue of America’s National Parks becoming completely overloaded at the weekends, a hypothesis we later confirmed finding Zion completely over-run with no possibility of repeating our successful viewpoint by viewpoint tour of the Eastern park, for example.

We gave up trying to get a coffee in Springdale as almost every parking space was full and all are charged for, the consequence of shifting the parking problem from Zion Park to the town. Instead we found a decent stop back in La Verkin, albeit a somewhat Bohemian one.

The Ag’s satnav got a bit confused in St George and we had to get the address of our hotel from a different one, but we eventually reached our destination. Dinner was at the nearby Mexican, with a highly entertaining Scottish/Korean waiter who quizzed us on all manner of topics including the perennial question of our favourite Premier League team. I chose exactly right with Liverpool – good guess!

Alleged Shopping

Nothing exciting was meant to happen today…

Our last full day in the US was set aside for shopping, but as usual Field Marshall Moltke was proven correct and our plan did not survive contact with the enemy.

We had a lie in, breakfast, and an hour in the sun, and then set off with our shopping list and addresses of the main malls in St George.

Our first stop was the Eddie Bauer store. We failed miserably to get a direct replacement for our favourite soft bag, but in their defence we did buy the original on our honeymoon in 1993! We did identify a possible replacement, and I found a very warm, very orange hat in preparation for my Iceland trip. Frances had hoped to keep it hidden from me, but reckoned without my skills to find the least tasteful but weatherproof item in any shop.

We reached the next mall a few minutes after its opening time, to be informed, by another customer, it had been evacuated due to a bomb threat. Quite who was threatening whom in Southern Utah was not clear, unless it was a protest at the licensing laws.

Back to shopping centre A we were becoming slightly desperate for a coffee and sandwich, but the best offer appeared to be fried chicken and frozen custard, hopefully not on the same plate. We were just about to abandon when Frances caught a glimpse of the Starbucks maiden hidden behind the chicken and custard joint. The only problem with the Starbucks was that the bright young lady on the till could take about one order a minute, and the bright young lady on the drive-in reception could take about one order a minute, regardless of complexity, but the bunch milling around inside could fulfill about one order every five mins. Our coffees took some time.

Delayed coffees imbibed, back to mall B. Sadly this was a bit of a wash-out against our list. The greatest success was at Buckle, where the state of the merchandise suggested the aforementioned bomb had gone off inside, but a rummage found a poncho for Frances and a great leather jacket but sadly not in my size.

We also found a bag for $300, so popped back to mall A for the Eddie Bauer version at $73 in their sale.

We then decamped to the local Cinema, where another helpful young lady, in a Halloween costume, drove the machine to dispense our seniors tickets, and we finished the afternoon with an almost private showing of the excellent A Haunting in Venice.

Last Day

The flight back suffered from similar stupid timing to the flight out, so we had a day to kill albeit with the 120 mile drive from Las Vegas to St George in the middle. After a lazy morning we checked out and decamped back over the road to the Mexican restaurant for lunch, where a very enthusiastic waiter was obviously in training as a concierge. He pointed out we were only a few miles from Snow Canyon, and could easily fit in a short visit, so we did. What was interesting was how the area around Snow Canyon has become a haven of multiple "weight loss institutes", but I suppose they have to go somewhere to work off the carb-heavy food. After all the amazing scenery of the last few weeks the canyon wasn’t jaw-dropping, but worth the short drive through.

The drive back was uneventful, although we did get a bit desperate for a stop at one point. We eventually found a Starbucks just over the state line into Nevada, and were able to use a couple of vouchers I’d received the previous day as an apology for the much-delayed coffees.

Las Vegas airport is an exercise in usuary. We had to get a taxi from the car hire terminal, as it’s now miles from the passenger terminals. She dropped us right at the kerb, but a luggage cart to get our stuff the 100m from the kerb to the bag drop desk cost $6. Once inside a burger and a couple of drinks cost $100, and a couple of bottles of water were another $6 each. Mysteries of the Argentinian exchange rate aside, this is common to many airports, but Las Vegas was definitely that extra bit eye-watering.

Cost aside, everything worked smoothly, including the flight back, until we reached Heathrow where after a 10 hour flight the British Airways bus company parked us in a field so we could admire the Middlesex scenery on an extended ride to the terminal.

Home at last!

I started the day in Grand Canyon with a third sunrise shoot, this time at Yavapai Point. I was almost first there and could choose my spot, but it soon got very busy. What was interesting was that in the dark we could see a long line of head-lights descending below Yaki point, so that explained the empty bus the day before. The sky was much clearer making for a different experience and a good farewell to the Canyon.

In an ideal world we would have visited Bryce Canyon much earlier in the trip, but we simply couldn’t get accommodation, so we had to loop back after Grand Canyon. This added a 300 mile drive, but the roads are good and Cameron, Page and Kanab are almost exactly at the 75 mile points.

Page has changed almost beyond recognition since our last visit. It’s much larger, with the section we recognised just a corner of the new town. The scariest part was "church row", with well over 20 religious meeting houses of all denominations one after the other.

Everything is on a much larger scale. When we visited Horseshoe Bend in 2007 it consisted of a few gravel parking spaces off the side of the road, and a path up to the viewpoint. Now it has a massive visitor centre and car park and people actually run organised tours from the town.

The other scary thing was the height of the water in Lake Powell, or more accurately the lack thereof. Apparently this year they have been within a few feet of having to stop generating power at the dam. Let’s hope for a wet winter.

On the Trail

We had a somewhat interrupted night’s sleep. The new hotel at Bryce Canyon is well appointed with large rooms, but half face inward to a common courtyard and pool area, so if anyone has a noisy air conditioner or even fridge you all hear it.

As a result we got up slowly and almost missed breakfast, but the staff took pity and served us just before they cleared away.

We planned to drive into the park, to the end of the Scenic Drive, and then work back viewpoint by viewpoint. Unfortunately Frances took a tumble on a rough bit of one of the trails, and we had to retire back to confirm no major harm done.

In the afternoon I went up to Inspiration Point and hiked down to Sunset Point, and then did part of the Navajo Trail to photograph Thor’s Hammer, in great light. I decided to try and get the bus back to the Inspiration Point car park, to discover that the Bryce Canyon shuttle system is considerably more arcane than those in either Zion or the Grand Canyon. The most puzzling element is that the maps and timetables use the name "Sunset" for both Sunset Point and Sunset Camp, which are in different places about 1/4 mile apart on different bus routes. Fortunately I found a helpful ranger, otherwise I might still be there.

In the evening we drove a few miles to the puzzlingly-named town of Tropic and had dinner at the Stonehearth Grille. Getting there is a bit disconcerting as it feels you’re driving miles into the middle of nowhere, but it’s worth the trip. It’s a bit lacking in ambiance, but has excellent food and service, and great views of the sun setting on the Bryce Cliffs.

Tuesday started with another dawn shoot. I caught the 5.30 shuttle bus to Yaki Point, which was full, but to my great surprise almost everyone got off at the prior stop, and I had the sunrise spot almost to myself. Initially I thought this might be a mistake caused by poor announcements on the bus, but the following day another possible explanation presented itself. Either way I got some great sunrise shots, in near solitude.

After breakfast we headed to the village, the old centre of Grand Canyon activities. Nowadays with the newest lodging and market a couple of miles away and the main visitor parking and visitor centre at twice that distance there’s no longer such a single focal point, but it’s still the start point for the shuttle-only Western Rim route.

We worked our way Westwards stopping at most of the viewpoints, ending up at Hermit’s Rest in nice time to have our picnic lunch. This was accompanied by a "hermit mocha", (coffee with some hot chocolate mixed in), but the latter was somewhat delayed by a camera crew who had temporarily taken over the cafe window and kitchen.

We then worked our way back through the viewpoints accessible Eastbound, but we were clearly going to be far too early at our target for sunset. We therefore stayed on the shuttle all the way back to the village, and went in search of a latte. We reached the cafe at the Bright Angel Lodge, and were shown to a table in an almost empty room and handed a dinner menu, at just before 3pm. We had broken the system! Not looking a gift horse in the mouth we ordered pulled pork and prime rib "sandwiches", wine and beer and had an excellent "tunch". The friendly young staff were lusting after our colourful clothing, so maybe we still have some style…

Appetite sated we got back on the bus to Hopi Point, and watched the sunset combined with photographing large raptors, eagles or maybe even Californian condors, and having a delightful chat with a retired American teacher.

More like it.

The Jag-war is now officially an ‘Ag-war, the J having either detached itself from the boot-lid somewhere in the desert Southwest, or having been detached by someone else suffering from the aforementioned. ‘Opefully ‘Ertz understand.

I got up early and joined the crowd watching sunrise at Mather Point. The light was intermittent due to the heavy but broken cloud cover, but when it broke through we got nice splashes of colour on the rocks. It was bloody cold – even with my heaviest available hat and coat I was suffering a bit by the time the sun was fully up.

After breakfast we set off back down the East Entrance Road to the Desert View area. This time the light was good and I managed to get up the Watchtower, a great brick folly on the wall of the Canyon with wonderful views outside and great recreations of native art inside.

At the next stop back towards the Lodge we were treated to a wonderful display, a rainbow forming underneath us, inside the Canyon.

In the afternoon I took a sightseeing flight over the Canyon. We were a bit dubious of the safety record of the helicopter operator, so I opted for a fixed-wing flight. As a way of getting a fresh perspective it was fine, but as a photographic platform it was pretty useless, and I was battling a combination of odd angles and a dirty and scratched window. Next time I will be brave and stick to the helicopter.

After frankly disgusting food at Grand Canyon’s other outlets we had great hopes for our dinner booking at El Tovar, but we were sadly to be disappointed. Things didn’t start well – we arrived a few minutes early to be told our table was not yet ready, fair enough, and to come back nearer the exact time. We sat down about 5m from the person managing admissions. The next thing we knew I received a text, at international rates, saying the table was ready, only to be told again at the desk that it wasn’t.

We were eventually admitted, and shown to a cramped corner table with a view of the car park and a strong cold draught. The latter was so bad we eventually had to move ourselves. Our server turned up and was very helpful, but was unable to offer any alternative to sprouts as the vegetable accompaniment to roast duck! We tried to get on the Wi-Fi, but failed and the water boy appeared to take some delight in confirming that access was only available to residents, not restaurant customers.

The food was mixed: the soup, Elk Bolognese and the duck itself were good. The sprouts were like bullets and the rice pilaf was dry and inedible. Overall it was nowhere near the standard which should have been delivered for the very high prices being charged.

Back at the lodge we attempted to plan better catering for the next day, but literally every catering outlet in Grand Canyon Village and the gateway town of Tusayan gets, at best, very mixed reviews and many are downright appalling. The statistical distribution of TripAdvisor reviews is a whole topic for another blog, but we essentially gave up and decided to stick to sandwiches until we’re back in Utah.

Disappointed.

We got on the road early to drive down to the Grand Canyon. The first segment went very well, with a quick drive to Jacob’s Lake, a pleasant coffee and cookie stop, and some wonderful scenery in great broken light as we followed the 89A underneath the Vermilion Cliffs.

That route ended at the Navajo Bridges. While these are still majestic with great views from the old bridge into the Colorado, they’ve changed the layout of the parking and viewing areas somewhat since our last visit in 2007 and I found it impossible to recreate my favourite shot with both bridges in the frame.

Once over the bridge you are in the Navajo Nation, and there’s essentially nowhere for a stop until you reach Cameron, an hour down the road and only a mile before the turn off into the park. We were sufficiently desperate that we went into the Cameron "Trading Post" and opted for the "fine dining" option although we only really wanted a sandwich. Let’s put it this way: Michel Roux has nothing to worry about. Put another way, Frances described her toasted cheese sandwich as possibly the worst meal in recent record. My "chicken club" (burger) was marginally better, but came swamped by about 2000 calories of disgusting carbs. The main course was followed by a latte so strong Frances claimed she could taste it in her ears!

Lunch "dealt with" we drove into the park via the Eastern entrance which both saves about 100 miles driving and provides direct access to a number of viewpoints. At this point we encountered a new challenge – the temperature was dropping like a stone, and our "hot desert" outfits were woefully inadequate. I don’t think you can get pneumonia via the knees, but it’s just as well. That said the scenery was absolutely stunning, as ever, but between the temperature and tricky cloudy light we worked quickly and moved on promptly from each viewpoint.

Once we’d booked into the Yavapai Lodge and settled into our room we went in search of sustenance. The Yavapai Tavern is a bit basic and produced a remarkably rubbery Elk burger, although for a change Frances’ chilli was OK. They do have one of the best beer menus I have seen in a long time, but that doesn’t fully compensate for an inedible meal.

Things can only get better. Tomorrow we’re on sarnies for breakfast and lunch, but we have dinner booked at the El Tovar restaurant. Fingers crossed!

Kanab is probably the best base for a day trip to the Grand Canyon’s North Rim. We’ve had some aspiration to do such a trip since our first visit to the region in 1994, but each time it’s been prevented by the early closure of the North Rim after the first snowfall. Fortunately there was no such issue this time, and today we set off for our visit.

From Kanab it’s a very easy drive, albeit about 90 miles. The first section through Fredonia is a bit boring, but you have to watch the speed limits and Frances was battling with an odd road surface which while smooth had a pattern of shiny stripes reflecting the early morning sun. Fortunately the straight stretch quickly gives way to the climb onto the Kaibab Plateau, and the "almost mandatory" coffee and cookie stop at Jacob’s Lake provided for a quick recovery.

From there it’s a very pretty drive down to the North Rim, especially with the gathering Autumn colours, although you have to keep your eyes peeled. At one point we had to jam on the brakes to avoid a group of deer crossing the road, and the possibility of a bison or cattle encounter was signposted.

At the Rim our interaction with the Ranger at the visitor centre focused on the pending US government shutdown and the potential impact on the rest of our trip. However we decided not to worry about that, and had a nice walk around Bright Angel Point, followed by a picnic lunch.

In the afternoon we drove the scenic drive down to Point Royal and back. This provides easy access to a range of the North Rim’s best viewpoints. It’s a very different experience to the south, where you’re looking across to the higher North Rim. Instead the Marble Plateau, itself at over 7000ft, stretches out below you. What is similar is that when you are on the road you can be 50m from the Grand Canyon, and be completely unaware it’s there.

We got back to Kanab a few minutes late for our dinner reservation, but needn’t have worried as unusually Adria’s was almost empty. However the food, beer and service were excellent and we’ve been promised live music for tomorrow, so we’ll pay them a repeat visit.

Minor Tribulations

We spent the morning on laundry and admin. The first source of minor panic was the near miss on the US Government shutdown. This might have significantly impacted our trip, although it appears that the governors of the states with multiple National Parks have got tired of the federal government screwing up a primary income stream at random intervals and now have appropriate Plans B in place. In the end the shutdown was narrowly averted, but one continues to be bemused by a system of government in which the three main legislative branches are frequently working to not only different but actively opposed agendas.

With CNN on in the background I was also trying to make sense of the position on our credit cards. In the old days every transaction generated either a paper or email receipt, but it’s suddenly a lot more complicated. Hotels and tour companies take part payment at booking and part later, but you don’t necessarily get details of the second charge. A lot of minor transactions don’t generate a receipt at all. To further complicate matters Kanab appears to be a wierd twilight zone where they don’t get chip & PIN and resort to swiping, signing and multiple random variants thereof.

Admin completed we visited the movie set museum, and set about trying to find a light lunch. Although it was still about a month from the end of the season, and all the hotels were full, almost all the coffee bars and cafes were shut. We settled for soup and a cheese sandwich at an odd vegetarian cafe, but something less dairy focused would have been better for my digestion.

In the afternoon we did the drive to the Rimrock Hoodoos, also known as the Toadstools. These are set in a small plateau within a mile of the highway. Unfortunately it had clouded over and I was battling the light, but hopefully I have some workable shots. While she was waiting Frances was watching the activity of an enormous tarantula scuttling over the rocks, but sadly just as I got back to her some other tourists spooked it and it went to ground.

We took dinner at Adria’s, accompanied by live music. The band insisted on starting by each playing their own solo compositions, and initially we thought we might be making an early exit, but eventually they all got on stage together and did a set of energetic crowd pleasers covering The Animals, Creedence Clearwater Revival and similar and a good time was had by all.

Cracking!

Everyone knows The Wave, that curling saddle of twisted colourful layers of rock, and everyone wants to get to The Wave, but access is strictly controlled via a tight lottery, and only a few pull it off. However the Coyote Buttes area contains several similar formations, for most of which access is still straightforward, and the best known is White Pocket.

It’s another destination for which you need an appropriate vehicle and guide, and I had again signed up with Dreamland Safaris. When I arrived at their office I was somewhat surprised to find about 10 other punters all going to White Pocket in three separate jeeps, but it is their most popular tour. However this does suggest that some form of access limitation may be on the way.

The drive in takes about 2.5 hours, with paved road giving way to good unpaved road, giving way to rough unpaved road and finally thick, deep sand. Fortunately our guide Maddi made it look easy, but I suspect it really isn’t.

White Pocket is a big area, bigger than The Wave, covering about 7 square miles and a typical route taking in the well-known and most dramatic formations is a 2-3 mile hike/scramble of 3-4 hours, if you’ve got and are used to photographers, which fortunately Maddi was.

There’s no single signature formation like The Wave itself, although The Wormhole comes close, but instead you have a procession of impossible looking rock loops and swirls, and waves, linked by white "brain rock" which is very easy to walk on.

My advice is simple: if you can do this, do it before it also becomes inaccessible to all but a lucky daily few.

On Wednesday morning I had another planned trip, to Peekaboo Slot Canyon near Kanab. This has many similar features to Antelope Canyon, except that if you time it right it’s completely empty, and a photographer can be left entirely to their own devices to play with equipment, settings and compositions as they wish.

The big challenge is that the drive (or hike) in is over a mile of deep, soft sand, not to be attempted in a normal road car regardless of pedigree, so most people use the services of a specialist tour company, and I was no exception, going with Dreamland Safaris, a local company in Kanab. Our guide, Orion, was both an excellent driver and a highly entertaining guide, although I don’t think any of the guests managed to get a word in edgeways.

The canyon lived up to its reputation, with great reflected light through the early morning, and I came away very happy with the results.

Over lunch Frances and I realised that while Kanab and environs might fill four days, we didn’t want to return after Bryce Canyon, and felt a replan coming on, to make a different use of our last couple of days. Replan aside we had a quiet afternoon, fitting in a drive to the somewhat disappointing Johnson Canyon and some shopping before an early dinner.

Dinner itself was hilarious, including educating the waiter how to make an Irish coffee, and threatening him and the bartender with broken legs if they attempted to repeat the excess of their compatriot at Glacier National Park and add a nice bit of Crème de Menthe for a splash of Kelly Green.

Tomorrow I would be back to Dreamland Safaris and my trip to White Pocket!

After breakfast we set off for the drive back to Kanab. We shared the first two stages, over the mountain to Boulder and then down the SR12 to Cannonville. These were uneventful, except to note that the aspen trees which were green four days earlier were now almost all yellow, and a few were on the way to orange. It’s amazing how a few cold nights can bring on such a sudden and coordinated change.

At Cannonville we left the main road and set off down Cottonwood Canyon Road – a well maintained but unsurfaced road which cuts straight through the Paria Plateau to emerge halfway between Page and Kanab. Completing this road had been on my to-do list since originally planning the 2007 trip. It’s a dramatic road of constantly changing scenery and geology. However the highlight for me was definitely Grosvenor Arch, a dramatic bluff of yellow stone in the middle of nowhere, topped by an amazing arch structure. The Jag-war, with its Range Rover underpinnings, managed the drive without fault, but I certainly wouldn’t attempt it in something with two wheel drive.

The last few miles of the road are a bit boring and feel somewhat interminable, but we eventually emerged onto highway 89 and turned right for Kanab. The town is very spread out, with a road pattern which while it does follow the American grid system, seems to have somewhat arcane numbering, and as a result we couldn’t find our hotel. At one point we pulled in in front of the local school, and I attempted to work out what we should be doing. Unfortunately the downloaded maps on Gaia GPS, while they appear to map almost every rock in Utah, don’t have Kanab street names so that wasn’t much help.

Meanwhile Frances was sitting pointing at the big screen on the car’s dashboard, struggling for the right words. "That.. The magic machine… For Finding Places… Would that work?". After much hilarity we put the address into the Jag’s GPS and it took us directly to the hotel. Magic.

Dinner was somewhat delayed for various reasons. We were running late and most restaurants in Kanab had a queue. We got near to the front at one before realising that the primary ingredients in all their dishes were garlic and chilli. We were finally sat down with drinks and food ordered at the Iron Horse, and all the lights went out! The staff appeared completely unphased and just circulated with warm words until things went back on about 15 mins later. We were eventually fed and watered, but somewhat later than planned.

One of the reasons we have not previously explored Capitol Reef is that although it’s an enormous, diverse park, it’s not particularly well served by either self-drive roads or shared transport like a shuttle service. You can drive through the middle of it on highway 24, and up and down Scenic Drive and Capitol Gorge, and that’s about it.

In the morning we tried the Notom Road, which winds through a mix of public and private land on the East of the park. There are a few good views, but nothing that dramatic. Eventually the paved road gives out and rapidly deteriorates below a level we’re comfortable driving in a road car, even one with 4WD, and we returned to town.

That leaves the Cathedral Valley. This is home to some of Capitol Reef’s best known scenery, but even relatively optimistic guides like Martres make it clear that this is not for road cars or inexperienced off-road drivers. Good advice. I signed up for a jeep tour with one of the local specialists.

The full jeep tour, up the Lower Cathedral Valley and back through the upper part is not for the faint of heart, or the loose of fillings! It’s 58 miles of washboard, sand, deep dips, and the occasional segment where the road surface appears to be constructed mainly of pebbles the size of cricket balls.

Fortunately Backcountry Safaris had provided a Jeep Rubicon, and Alex a young lad who’s driving style on the highway was a bit disconcerting, but which came into its own as soon as we left it. Within 100 yards of the main road we descended a rough slope with about a 30% gradient, and then drove for some distance on the bed of the Fremont River, which brought back memories of getting stuck in a river in Iceland, but this time there was no such issue and the tour got started.

At the first stop we were somewhat surprised by a group of pretty ladies in nice dresses and inappropriate footwear – see if you can spot one in a pink dress below. Obviously one of the other tour operators does their photo tour with models. Maybe next time…

The scenery is absolutely as dramatic as advertised, but the stretches between the landmarks were maybe longer than I expected. However that’s a small price to pay.

We did have a challenge with timing. Alex was obviously unused to dealing with photographers, and even with the best will in the world we probably spent more time at earlier stops than some tours. On top of that by the last week in September sunset at the Temples of the Sun and Moon is before 7. The result was a somewhat hair-raising dash to reach those final landmarks in the last of the golden hour sun, but we made it.

Overall an excellent experience, but I would advise others to discuss the timing of the trip with the outfitter, and maybe run a slightly earlier timeslot towards the end of the season.

Sunset Point

We opted for another lazy morning. The reality is that magnificent as it is, unless you are going to do long hikes or drive off-road Capitol Reef only has accessible viewpoints and activities to fill two days. With the jeep tour done our remaining target was to witness a good sunset from Panorama and Sunset Points.

After breakfast we took a short drive which included the gift shop attached to one of Torrey’s camp sites. While not an obvious target there was just something about it which looked hopeful. 20 minutes later we emerged with three of my favourite Mountain t-shirts plus one for Frances, all in the end of season sale at an average price of about £12.

We had a leisurely couple of hours by the pool, then set off mid-afternoon for the final run through the park. This time the weather played ball. We found a couple of additional viewpoints on the Scenic Drive, then hit Panorama Point, The Goosenecks, and finally Sunset Point, timing our arrival almost perfectly.

Capitol Reef, done. Tick.

For the next stage of our trip we had to move on from Escalante to Torrey, at the gateway to Capitol Reef National Park. First leg of the journey was along the dramatic stretch of Scenic Route 12 to Boulder, a road we have driven several times but never gets old. We stopped at the top of the Hog’s Back, the narrow ridge where the land falls several thousand feet both sides of the road, and I had yet another go at capturing it photographically.

In Boulder we found a great coffee shop apparently run by a retired member of the Village People – great coffee and croissants – then set off down the Burr Trail. This small but paved road eventually winds down to the bottom of Capitol Reef, but much of the photographic interest is in the first 25 miles. It starts with mounds of cross-bedded cream limestone, but then the road descends into the aptly-named Long Canyon. This runs for about 10 miles with the road winding along the bottom alongside the riverbed, red and grey canyon walls towering above.

At one point there’s a short but dramatic slot canyon. It’s not Antelope Canyon, but it is pretty, a few feet from the road, and about a million less people.

Back in Boulder we revisited the coffee shop, then hit SR12 for the final run to Torrey. This section is different again, a pretty winding Alpine route with cattle grazing and aspens replacing the cottonwood trees – the pass summit is at 9600 feet.

We finally reached the end of the 12 at its junction with the 24 a few miles outside Capitol Reef. We took dinner at the local Mexican restaurant, which was absolutely buzzing. Frances took great delight in inspecting the comings and goings at the liquor store next door. Torrey is in a different county to Escalante and they obviously have a more relaxed attitude to booze. There’s even a distillery over the road!

Desert and Oasis

The Red Sands Hotel in Torrey shows the downside of too much checking on TripAdvisor. The rooms are large and clean, but they are overpriced and poorly equipped and the hotel has no soul or view. Several impracticalities will get added to my list… A mile down the road we found my first choice: stunning views, cheaper and a very nice restaurant over the road – I might have compromised on the age of the bedding.

After a gentle start we set off to explore the park. Everywhere you turn there’s a new, dramatic vista with yet more forms and colours in the rocks. However it’s interesting just how much varies with the quality of the light, and the direction of travel. In 2007 we drove route 24 from East to West, in dull conditions, and didn’t get any of the majesty which hits you like a slap heading into the park from the West in good light.

In amongst the towering rocks and stretches of desert brush you have the Fruita Oasis, a small valley fed by the Fremont river which even at the end of a heatwave summer is pleasant and green. The original Mormon settlers moved on with the creation of the National Park, but the rich orchards still generate vast quantities of fruit available to visitors on a "U pick" basis.

In the afternoon we did the aptly named Scenic Drive including the short unpaved section into Capitol Gorge. The scenery was consistently stunning, but towards the end clouds were gathering and the dull light killed effective photography.

We therefore headed for an early dinner at the Rim Rock Restaurant. I ordered a coke to start, and a very small glass turned up. It took one sip to establish this was not just a coke, but had a substantial shot of rum in it. I know some of the Americans struggle a bit with my accent, but that’s a new one. Planned drink restored we had an excellent meal, albeit slightly interrupted when the last rays of the setting sun broke through the cloud lighting up the view with a stunning orange glow which sent everyone running for their cameras.

Here’s hoping for better light tomorrow.

Red Canyon

After a good stay at the Thunderbird Lodge we hit the road towards Escalante. The morning’s highlight was Red Canyon, a relatively small area with similar geology to Bryce, but many of the rocks are a bright reddish shade. Many of the best views are from the road or a short trail around the visitor centre. We’ve driven past previously without time to stop and explore, so we took our time today.

Scenic Route 12 is over 120 miles from its start near Red Canyon to its end at Capitol Reef, and a large number of those miles are packed with dramatic scenery. In addition the road has had a lot of work since our last visit and is now open, a comfortable width and beautifully surfaced. The drive to Escalante was a very pleasant one.

The Canyon Country Lodge is a nice new hotel and we had a pleasant few hours in the sun. Dinner, however, was complicated by Utah’s licensing laws. We’d already fallen foul of the rule that you can’t order a drink until you’re sitting down with meal ordered, so you go thirsty if there’s a wait for a table. Tonight we had a new version: we sat down promptly, placed our food and drink order, and then they couldn’t find any staff over 21 to open the bottles and carry the drinks to our table, so the drinks only turned up with the last course, carried to the table by a suitably qualified (old) member of staff who looked suspiciously like the gardener. You also can’t finish drinks off outside the restaurant area, so the concept of a relaxing drink in the lounge doesn’t exist. Annoying.

Hell’s Backbone

After a disturbed night’s sleep (what idiot leaves the alarm set for midnight on a hotel room clock?) I did a solo dawn shoot at the Devil’s Garden. This was straightforward apart from the Jag-war’s satnav dumping me in the middle of nowhere 4 miles from target at which point I had to revert to manual navigation and dead reckoning. When I arrived the car park was occupied by several trucks with photographers milling around, but they promptly got into their trucks and drove off, not hanging around for the wonderful golden hour light. Odd.

Back at the hotel we discovered that there is nowhere to get a decent breakfast in Escalante. Every shop, regardless of the nature of their merchandise, will sell you a coffee, but none of the cafes and restaurants do breakfast service. The fare on offer at our hotel was inedible, and the very nice diner attached to the motel where we stayed in 2007 seems to have disappeared.

Mid-morning we set off on the aptly named Hell’s Backbone, a 38 mile high-country unpaved road between Escalante and Boulder, which was the only way to get between them until the challenging engineering of the new, lower road in the 1940s. Most of the drive is in forest, moderately demanding and not very interesting, until you reach Hell’s Backbone Bridge, a short and narrow link (109 ft long and 14 ft wide) between two outcrops. This apparently took about a day off the old horse trail, but it also has the most dramatic views down into the valleys on both sides of a narrow ridge, and for probably a good 40 miles in both directions.