The Poisoned Glen

There's always time for a good yarn in this part of the world and the reason for this place being called The Poisoned Glen is no exception.  Forget notions of old Irish Chieftains being called to their maker through drinking water which had been cursed by a witch - the real reason is, apparently, by accident.  It appears that some-one (English no doubt) wrongly transcribed the Irish word neamhe (meaning 'heaven') as neimhe (meaning 'poison').  Whatever - Heavenly Glen or Poisoned Glen, it's a grand place in which to find yourself standing in what goes for the middle of summer in these parts.

The Poisoned Glen

That one was taken with the Franka Solida 6x6 folder on HP5/DD-X, if you're interested.  A lovely little camera it is, with a Schneider-Kreuznach Xenar 80mm f/3.5 lens.  It has a non-coupled rangefinder and the centre spot is still very clear and easy to use (when you need to - most times I'm down at f/8 anyway where there's reasonable depth of field to work with).   The rangefinder is magnified, which is a nice touch and makes it easier to focus accurately on your subject - although it's still a bit of a shock when I switch from viewfinder to rangefinder and suddenly find myself zoomed in.  You turn the distance dial on the top with your thumb when looking through the focus finder until the two images coincide, then transfer the reading from the dial onto the lens.  It probably takes longer to describe than actually do.  The hardest part is to remember to check/set both shutter speed and aperture - I find myself forgetting to check the shutter speed, since you have to either tilt the camera up a bit or turn it around to face you in order to see the shutter speed ring.   Most times now I just set it on 1/125 and leave it there. There's no meter of course, so you either guess or do something else.

It's a bit boggy round this part of Donegal, as you can see, so I didn't venture too far up the glen.  Actually I didn't go any further than you can see in the snap above - Dr C and his Bro went a bit deeper into the Glen, but I left them to it and just hung around for a bit, wasting some more film.  

The big lumps of rock round here are granite formations and there isn't much vegetation on them.  If you are lucky and are standing in the right place, at the right time of day and with the right light I'd imagine they catch the light quite nicely - not like in this snap below, where I just snapped what I saw before those clouds erupted.  

Granite rock formations in Donegal

Here's another one for good measure:

Grantie rocks and light in Donegal

Isn't it hard not to like the auld clouds in this part of the world?   I mean, Forget about the rock-things, which have been there for millions of years, not moving very much at all - those clouds move every minute of the day.  

Road trip

A few weeks ago I went off with my mate Dr C and his brother on a road trip to Donegal.  Donegal lies in the extreme North West of Ireland and is a grand place to go for a couple of days - it's about an hour and a bit's drive from The Liberties to get there.  Unfortunately we went in the summer, when the weather is, shall we say, somewhat unpredictable.  Every other time of year you kind of know what you're in for, but summer could bring anything.  Luckily I was well prepared, armed with FP4, HP5 and a couple of cameras of varying ages and negative size.  I think I even snuck some Velvia in as well - even though I'm not really a colour sort of dude.  You can tell that as the Velvia is still lying in a camera waiting to be finished, whereas the B&W stuff has long been dealt with.

There's a mountain behind that cloud

As you drive westwards, towards the Gaeltacht (Gaelic-speaking area) the roads get smaller, the sheep get friendlier and it's not long before you are lost in the splendour of the Derryveagh Mountains - well, that's if you can actually see them, that is.

Lovely weather for taking snaps, though, isn't it?  Particularly when an old church creeps into your viewfinder long enough to be captured on film.

Dunlewey, Donegal

I must admit I do like Donegal - it feels different.  Different but familiar at the same time, if that's not too Irish.  It reminds you of how things used to be (or how your memory lets you think it used to be).  People have a bit more time to talk to you, and there's generally a bit less fussing and rushing about - and that, in my eyes, is always a Good Thing.

Milk and alcohol

Milk and alcohol - you weren't expecting that, were you?  You came here expecting to see some hedges, or maybe the sea, or even a sheep or two, didn't you?  Well it's Friday and believe it or not once upon a time I was young and took snaps of things other than the sea.  For a few years in my teenage years I went to whatever bands came this way - and sometimes I even had a camera with me. It's surprising the things you come across in Paterson negative sleeves which have been stored away for the last 36 years...

So, just for a change, here are some shots of Dr Feelgood, taken about 1979 in this place.  Now I appreciate Dr Feelgood might not be your thing, but for a 16 year old spotty youth, in a concert hall alongside a few hundred other lads&lasses of similar age, armed with an OM-1 loaded with FP4 and perhaps a 100mm f/2.8 lens I look at these now and think they aren't too bad.

Lee Brilleaux, blasting it out in 1979

Dr Feelgood were a proper band.  If you are of a certain age, you might remember 'Milk and Alcohol' - otherwise you'd better YouTube it and then wonder what happened to the music scene (actually that's a bit harsh - from what I can see there are a lot of talented people still playing real music - it's just the untalented ones that seem to get all the media attention).  Sadly Mr Brilleaux is no longer with us, succumbing to Lymphoma at the age of 41.  Too young, basically.

Lee Brilleaux clearly dressed up for the occasion, whereas Gypie Mayo here looks like he's borrowed his grandad's old gear.  On the plus side though he did know what he was about when it came to pluckn' them strings...

Nice suit, Gypie

Here's what they looked like just before they went on stage (The Brother and I had friends in low places in them days, capice?).

Dr Feelgood, 1979

What a great bunch of lads, eh?  Looks more like a police line-up than a bunch of rhythm and blues artists about to entertain, doesn't it.  The giveaway is the bottle that Mr Mayo is clinging on to, nearly - but not quite - out of shot.

In those days it was easy - I just took a camera out, loaded it with film and snapped away, not knowing any better.  Nowadays, what with the Internet and all, you get to doubt yourself, worry about your 'personal EI' and things like that.  In my youth I just set my ASA to box speed, got out there and took some snaps, came home and asked mum if she didn't mind me developing them in the kitchen - usually about an hour before tea-time on a Saturday evening, if I remember correctly.  Life was simpler then.

Furrows

The Liberties are largely a rural area, as I'm sure you all know by now, and so in recognition of that fact we dedicate this post to the humble furrow.  Important things, furrows.  Without them we wouldn't get no spuds and that, dear readers, would be a national disaster in this part of the world (Ed: again.  That would a national disaster again in this part of the world).

I've done furrows before (a very long time ago) but I was out and about a while ago and spied these ones.  So I stopped the car, got out and pointed a camera at them.   Now it has to be said that the lads and increasingly the lasses who live in and around The Liberties know how to turn a sod.  If you don't believe me, look here - World Champions at it, no less.

Lovely lines

My horizon appears to be off again - seems to be happening rather frequently these days.  I think I actually stand a bit lop-sided - probably due to me dodgy hips, what with all their titanium parts, ceramic heads, screws, bolts, chicken-wire and whatever else the surgeon had lying about at the time.  I shall endeavour to build myself in an autonomic self-levelling feature in the hope that the old snaps turn out better in the future.

Autonomic: (au-to-nom-ic)  adj.

1. Physiology

a. Of, relating to, or controlled by the autonomic nervous system.

b. Occurring involuntarily; automatic: an autonomic reflex.

2. Resulting from internal stimuli; spontaneous.

(Ed: was that really necessary?)

Anyway, furrows, or drills as they are known around here.  Here's some more for you:

Look at that rich soil - just right for spuds

I think there's probably a decent photograph of furrows waiting to be taken - by someone with a lot more talent for this game than me, though.  The light that day was very flat, as it tends to be a lot in this part of the world, what with all our lovely clouds and everything.  Think of it as a big soft-box.

Seaside snaps

Anyway, since I could see that you all appreciated those summer snaps yesterday here's another couple to enjoy before the bad weather sets in for winter.

Summer in Portrush

I think this was taken same day in July as the snap of Missy wot you might have noticed yesterday.  Cracking day it was, as you can see - well, for taking snaps on film, anyway.  Those lumps of rocks you might just be able to make out are known locally as The Skerries.  Now if you are well edumacated, you might know that the name derives from the old Norse word sker, meaning nothing other than 'a rock in the sea'.  I like that.

Summer in Portstewart

Just down the road from Portrush is, as you know, Portstewart.  We had summer there too.  Yes I know there's something going on with this snap, it has streaks all over it and the horizon is all wonky.  Blame the operator.

Summer's gone - was it ever here?

What a fantastic summer it has been this year - somewhere else maybe, but not round these parts.  We've had lots of rain, not that much sun and while the temperatures haven't been too bad they haven't been too good either.  Still, on the plus side, at least those clouds make for interesting skies when captured on the old film, eh?

Lovely summer's day in Portstewart, rain not far away

That would be Inishowen you can nearly see in the background there, almost covered by low cloud - and usually what is happening in Inishowen now will be happening in Portstewart in about 30 minutes time.

Here's a building you might recognise:

An old favourite

I've 'done' this old coastguard station before and no doubt will do it again.  For some reason I like coming by here from time to time.  Last time I captured it on a 50-year old Franka 6x6 folding camera - this is what it looks like on 35mm using a more modern rangefinder (although still dating to last Century).  I think I prefer it as it was - it is now, as you can see, a striking dark red colour.  Why I know not, but some-one keeps painting it.  That's OK with me - although I preferred it when it was white as it all looks a bit dull now on the old FP4+.  Or maybe that's just poor exposure on my part.

After those very depressing snaps we need something to cheer us all up a bit.  And here is that something - Missy, on Portrush Strand in the middle of summer, wearing a coat and a smile.

Missy, as happy as can be, Portrush, 2015

Binevenagh

Now locals will know what I'm talking about here - or rather where I'm talking about.  Binevenagh, or Binn Foibhne [bin evena] in Irish, meaning Foibhne's Peak, is a big lump of rock about 10 miles North West of us here in the North East Liberties of Coleraine.  Fortunately there's a road up to it and a handy viewing point at Gortmore, where one can gaze out over Magilligan Strand, Lough Foyle and over to Inishowen, which of course belongs to the Free State (to use the vernacular).

There's a ferry across Lough Foyle nowadays which is a good thing, 'cos otherwise it's a long old drive around through Derry/Londonderry to get to where you want to go.  During the war (Ed: oh here we go...) my grandmother and many others like her used to take their lives in their hands and go on a wee boat across to Inishowen in order to buy food that was rationed over here in The North.  Yes, My Granny was a Smuggler - good title for a book, that, isn't it?  Of course she wouldn't have been a granny in those days but still, it must have been a bit dangerous all the same.

But I digress.

The point of this post is to tell you about the other evening, when I was minded to take the Big Camera (aka The Sinar) out for some Proper Photography.  Yes, we're talking large format here...none of your namby-pamby 135 or even 120 roll film here, no siree.

Now in spite of the Sinar being an F1 model - the 'F' apparently standing for 'Field' - believe me it is anything but portable and so it doesn't get out in any sort of field much.  But when it does come with me for a little trip, I find it rather liberating, in spite of its size and not inconsiderable weight.  Everything suddenly becomes very deliberate - more so than with roll film. Large format photography really forces me to slow down and think about what I'm doing - and usually that's a Good Thing.  If things are going well I might push the boat out and take 2, or even 4 shots in one session - usually just in the one location, since it requires a fair bit of work to set up (and take apart again).   But when it all comes together the results can be, well, interesting.

View from Gortmore, summer evening light

This particular day, a couple of weeks ago, the weather had been really bad since morning, but sometimes in this part of the world you get an hour or two just as the sun is going down when interesting things happen - and I wasn't disappointed.  The sun made a very brief appearance just before it sank behind Inishowen and for a few minutes the light was, I have to say, spectacular.   This looks a tad over-exposed to me, but the sun was very low in the sky and exceptionally bright and so this is reasonably close to how I remember it.

You will, of course, remember my post the other day where I was bigging up Unicolor processing gear and again it comes in handy for 4x5 development.  The trick here is to acquire a Unicolor 8x10 paper drum - the one that has ribs along the sides, which allow the chemicals to get to both sides of the film.  This drum will take 4 4x5 negs (with the help of a clothes-peg to keep each pair of negs separated - this guy explains it).  I've been experimenting with the volume of chemical required - Unicolor's instructions for a 10x8 print drum are 2oz, or 57ml.  This seems ridiculously low, but I've read somewhere (here in fact) that most of the developer is for wetting the film quickly and evenly and that only a little is required to actually do the work.  For now though I'm erring on the side of extreme caution - mostly as it takes a lot of effort to acquire 4 negs using the Sinar and I don't like the thought of messing things up at the developing stage.