Going on

There's too much going on today - I'm under pressure, so here's a quick print for you.  Back to the normal drivel soon, you'll be disappointed to hear...

Father and son, 2019

The Tokyo Connection

Back when this blog started, some 5 years ago, the plan was to showcase the area in which I live (on the North Coast of Northern Ireland), my photography and a bit of family history.  I wrote a lot about the family connections in the beginning, as I had just started researching my family tree at that time.  In the last couple of years I've hardly touched on the genealogy - probably since I've more or less shelved that work, for now at least.  I got back to the early/mid-19th Century ancestors on both my mother's and father's side and then things got a bit trickier.  A lot of Irish records were destroyed in 1922 in the Public Records Office, Dublin in an explosion and fire at the time of the formation of the Irish Republic.  Two-thirds of the original parish records of births, baptisms, marriages and deaths are missing as are virtually all the 19th Century Census returns for Ireland.  There are fragments here and there and many of those relating to Northern Ireland are catalogued in the Public Records Office in Belfast but you need to have (a) a fair idea of the local Parish the person you are looking for belonged to and (b) a lot of luck.  Of the people in my family tree from around that area I only have the sparsest of information - a name and possibly a county of birth and that's not a lot to be going on.

But, of the information I did discover, there were one or two 'family mysteries' that were finally unravelled.  One connection in Philadelphia was particularly satisfying to unearth after a couple of years of searching - particularly so when the person we were looking for turned out to be still alive.  Contact was made, stories were exchanged and a lot of missing details on both sides were filled in.  More importantly, a strong human connection was made - we were very fortunate.  Then out of the blue came another connection that threw us completely... 

I have written before about how we were aware that my Grandfather's Brother had flitted between Philadelphia and Ireland from the 1920s onwards.  He had found himself a wife in Philly and they had a son who ended up in the US Army.  However it happened, my grandfather's brother found himself in the Canadian Army for the duration WWII and was part of the Juno Beach landings on D-Day.  He came through that - albeit with injuries - and settled in England for the rest of his life.  His son, now back in the States after the war, passed away in his twenties.  That much we already knew, but it was around this time that my grandfather's brother broke contact with the rest of his family back here in Ireland and nothing more was heard from him.  Enter the Tokyo connection.  This young English lady who was now living in that far-away city contacted me a couple of years ago with a haunch that we might share a common ancestor.  Specifically, she wondered if her grandfather (now deceased) was my grandfather's brother - the one with the Philadelphia connections who had disappeared off the radar all those years ago.  It seemed like a tall order but not totally crazy as we knew he had ended up in England after the war.  Bit by bit we pieced together the story - or what we thought the story might be.  We got lucky when a couple of concrete pieces of evidence turned up and finally we could say with certainty that Yes, her haunch was correct and we had discovered a whole new side to our families - one which we were all completely unaware of.  Her grandfather, apparently, told everyone he was Scottish, not Irish (the soft Western-Northern Irish accent is often mistaken for a Scottish accent, even today, so that wouldn't have raised too may eyebrows).  Seems he really did want to break ties with his Irish roots - and if it wasn't for the tenacity of my new-found cousin he would almost certainly got away with it.

So this summer we had a short visitation from my new cousin, her Japanese husband and their two children.  The five-year old is, naturally, as cute as can be (that's her on the left, in case you're wondering).  The two-year old is like all two-year-olds, into exploring everything in his surroundings with fearsome speed and bravery.  We had a brilliant couple of days exploring the area, including some places of historical significance to our family and doing a lot of just plain old 'getting to know each other a little better'.  Here they are:

A little bit of Japan, in our garden in the North East Liberties of Coleraine. 
On the Hasselblad, HP5+ in ID-11, Ifford Warmtone Fibre paper.

Clouds over Benbane Head

Looking West towards Benbane Head from Ballintoy.  The setting sun was breaking through a very thick layer of cloud and just for a few moments the scene was worth a stop and a stare.  The subject brightness range was immense - I spot-metered the brightest part and opened up a couple of stops, letting the shadows fall wherever.  In the darkroom I didn't want the whole thing to turn to black, so I concentrated on getting the little wispy cloud in the centre of the shot more or less right.  Then I burnt in the light part of the sky along the top a bit, since the detail was in the negative.  Benbane Head itself is almost lost along the bottom of the print, just about visible.

Clouds over Benbane Head

Via the 'Blad with the 250mm lens, HP5+/ID-11 on Ilford Warmtone fibre paper.

Subterfuge down on the farm

Continuing the story from last time, we had, if you recall, a ewe that had one too many lambs, so they weren't getting enough milk to thrive as they should.  As luck would have it, the next day I was out with the Sheep Man, another lambing took place (eventually, I should say - these things can't be rushed, y'know!).  Anyway, this time the ewe had one (big) lamb, so steps were taken to remove one of the three lambs from the first ewe and present it to the new mammy sheep as 'one of her own'...

First, a print of some of the mammys-to-be, probably wondering if that strange thing two-legs is holding is in any way edible...

Expectant ewes, inquisitive as all sheep are, in my expert opinion...

If the scan of the print appears a little dark, it's 'cos I was intentionally over-printing it, with a view to toning it.  I just haven't got round to the toning bit yet...

Oh alright - since it's you, I'll tone it now.  Hang on a minute.  Sepia first...

After sepia tone.

And then sepia&warm selenium - the classic combination, like fish 'n' chips, or mac&cheese if you prefer:

Sepia&selenium tone

Which do you like best?

Anyway, although we're a bit disjointed with regard to the words and the photographs, let's continue with the details of how to get one mammy sheep to believe that a lamb from a different mammy sheep is one of her own.

Each ewe has a several markings on her fleece, as you can see above.  There's a letter and a number, which indicate her lineage. There's also one, two or occasionally three dots on her back, which are the man-that-comes-with-the-ultrasound-scanner's best guess at how many lambs she's going to produce.  Bear in mind it's not an exact science and also, one or more lambs can be still-born.  But, those things aside, the ewe that started lambing when I was present looked like she was only going to have one lamb.  That lamb was half-delivered as the Good Man's wife went off to take one of the three lambs belonging to the other ewe that had lambed a few days earlier.  Now things started to move fairly quickly at this stage.  The lamb to be fostered had it's feet tied with cable ties (two ties, front&back legs together), and was dunked rather unceremoniously in a bucket of water.  The legs are tied so that it can't suddenly stand up, as that would make the foster ewe suspicious and could lead to rejection.  Every time it tried to stand, it fell over - just like a real newborn.  Clever, eh? The water was so that they could slather the lamb in the birthing juices of the real newborn - the water helps the absorption of the aforementioned juices into the fleece.  Once well covered, the fostered lamb is then presented to the ewe as her own.  I can verify how well this works, since the ewe immediately started fussing over it and cleaning it.  Meanwhile, at the other end, the 'real' lamb was then delivered safely and also presented to the ewe.  The only other intervention was that the newborn was helped to take the first feed, as the first milk is the important stuff for a newborn and anyway can only be absorbed in the first few hours, so it would be wasted on the 4-day old lamb.  After about 10-15 minutes the cable ties were cut (first one, then a few minutes later the other) and the fostered lamb could stand again.  By that time, the newborn was also trying to stand so it all seemed above board as far as the ewe was concerned.

The only other point to mention is that the fostered lamb's real mammy was removed from the barn, as if she heard her wee one bleat she might get distressed.

I know, you didn't come to this place for detailed knowledge of how to foster lambs - but you never know, it might come in handy one day.

If you came here for some details on camera, film, paper etc, well it's not much but for the record, Hasselblad 501cm, 50mm lens, Ilford HP5+ rated at 200, developed in ID-11 1+1 for 13 mins (i.e., at the recommended time for 400 iso), split-grade printed on Ilford Warmtone fibre paper in Fotospeed Warmtone developer.  Well, you did ask! I think you did, anyway...

The Sheep Man

The Sheep Man is a member of our little Photographic Club, although I struggle to see how he gets the time to pick up a camera, let alone come to our meetings.  At the minute he's lambing...well, not him per se of course - his sheep, or some of them, are lambing.  He breeds Poll Dorset sheep and he seems to know what he's about as he has had considerable success over the years.

Anyway, a while back (at the Ballymoney Show, you may recall), he invited me to come along and document (photographically, of course) the lambing and so for the last couple of weeks that's what I've been doing.

Here's the man himself, with one of his wee ones:

The Sheep Man, 2019.  On Ilford Warmtone Fibre paper

Perhaps needless to say, I know a great deal more about the lambing process now than I did two weeks ago.   He was bottle feeding this one as the mummy had three live lambs and since she only has the equipment to deal with two at a time it means three of them don't really get enough milk naturally - hence the need to supplement with a formula.  The plan was to wait until a sheep had only one live lamb and then to do a sneaky switcheroo so that both mummies ended up with two lambs each.  I was very fortunate in that on my second visit this is exactly what happened.  I'll shall reveal all next time.

Ballintoy, towards Rathlin

Another one from Ballintoy - this time looking towards Rathlin Island.  Rathlin is the bigger island just visible in the background - not the big lumps of rock in the mid-foreground.  They probably have a name as well, mind you - most rocks in the sea do around here - but I don't know it.

Ballintoy, looking towards Rathlin Island.  Ilford Warmtone Fibre paper

Generally speaking I avoid going anywhere near the sea when there's a storm about - (and we'll be getting plenty of those over the next few months) but this little beach might be a safe option - there's reasonably good access and given its shape it might be possible to stand at sea level but a good distance away from the water.  We'll see - I'll have to do a risk assessment or two before committing.

A Secret Beach

As I think I might have possibly said before, there are a few of us now in the Club who do film and -  even better - we're getting out&about on a regular basis.  I'm enjoying that enormously - it's good to share and talk old cameras and film developers and swap tips with like-minded people.  The other week we went to that old favourite, Ballintoy.  Unknown to me, the others knew of a 'secret beach' (shhh!).  It lies behind a huge lump of rock that unless you walked right up you would assume was part of the cliff face.  But there's actually a thin strip of sand behind it - between it and the cliff proper.  Very clever.

It was getting late and the light was fading but still, with a tripod and cable release sure anything is possible...even losing the cable release somewhere between the beach and the car.  At least I didn't lose the Hasselblad - I'd like to think I would have noticed a certain lightness in my bag.

At the Secret Beach, Ballintoy. On Ilford Warmtone fibre paper

Decisions. I know the horizon is off (again) but that can be fixed easily enough during mounting. I burnt in the sky a little but while there’s detail in the negative for the rock I didn’t try to keep it in the print - I kind of wanted to emphasise the rock's size & presence so I was happy for it to go to black.  As I look at the print I wonder if if that was the best decision.  Also I'm thinking I could use the magic of pot ferri to lift those waves a little.  I can't do anything about the rock at this stage, but think I will try to bleach the surf - carefully, as I don't want the sky to lighten any, just a little more contrast in the part where the waves are hitting the rock.

I had HP5+ in the ‘Blad rated at 200 but since the light was fading I was able to go down to 1s to get a little blur on the water.

Update-I gave it the pot ferri treatment this morning. I just dunked the lower part of the print and for a few seconds only. The print is still wet so perhaps not a fair comparison but this is it:

Heat

My morning ritual in Valencia was to get up early, as the sun rose - by far the nicest time of the day, before the heat began to build.  My morning cup of tea with my book (more on that later) on the terrace was very pleasant.  In fact, given this morning's weather here in The Liberties (overcast, wet, windy and decidedly cool), I'd actually swap for for those first couple of hours in Valencia.  Unfortunately the shops there didn't open until 9 and by then it was already blisteringly hot.  But off I would trudge, through the back streets until I got to a Supermercado where I could get provisions for the day.  Breakfast & lunch we would normally do in the apartment and a couple of times we cooked in the evening too (probably the best food we ate in the week, to be honest).

This was the small park en route to the shops and this park of it I snapped on the M6 with a Voigtlander 21mm f/4 attached.  Most likely with an orange or red filter - I forget which.  A little beaut of a lens it is, by the way, tiny as tiny can be - thankfully with a rather large focus pin to help people like me with fat fingers...

Morning in Valencia, on Ilford Warmtone RC paper

The book.  Oh yes, the book.  In recent times I've developed an interest in the lives and antics of some of our most famous despots.  I think it started with Stalin, then moved on to Mao but when in Spain I thought it only right and proper to tackle the Spanish Civil War and Franco.  The particular book I had with me was The Spanish Holocaust by Paul Preston.  An eye-catching title, for sure.  The subtitle is Inquisition and Extermination in Twentieth Century Spain.  It's a meticulously researched book which documents the atrocities on both sides (Republician and Falangist/Francoist).  And there were a great many atrocities to document, that's for sure.  It's not an easy read.  It's a very uncomfortable read, perhaps because it's geographically closer to home than Stalin and Mao, and similarly, not that long ago.  By the end I was wondering if Spain at that time was inhabited by some sort of alien species, since the bloodthirstiness of a great many people was off the scale.  It made me grateful for being born and growing up here in Ireland - which for sure had (and still has) its problems, but nothing like Spain in the '30s.

Aqua Multiespacio

One of the few shots from Valencia with any merit - and not much, at that.  Taken in what I think was the largest shopping centre in the known universe as the women in my life did what they had to do, apparently (Aqua Multiespacio if you are anyway interested in such trivia and I lie it’s not really that big but after an hour or two wandering around and sitting about I gave up and found a generic Tex-Mex American bar-restaurant thing and went in for a quiet beer but then they found me so that was the end of that. The food was yucky by the way - so bad I refused to pay the the full bill and that doesn’t happen very often but I got the impression it happens there quite a lot ‘cos the guy on the till didn’t put up much of a fight, much to my relief).

So, as I said, while the ladies browsed I hung around outside, pointing my camera in various directions - upwards for this one :)

Somewhere in Valencia, on Warmtone RC paper