Three pictures of Derwent dam today. There was a little water over-topping the dam wall while I was there, but no sign of the cascading curtain of white water that appears when its in full flow, sadly.
The Yashicamat had no chance of getting the whole structure in frame from the available vantage points, so I opted for a couple of shots showing each of the dam’s towers, plus an extra picture of the century old sign warning of a £5 fine if you bathe in the water!
The dam is perhaps most famous for the part it played in WWII, serving as a practice ground for RAF 617 squadron, or the Dam Busters as they are better known. Because of the similarity to the dams in Germany’s industrialised Ruhr valley, it was used to practice the low-level flying needed to drop the Upkeep bouncing bombs that would breach the dams during the raid.
I took more shots at the location with my Olympus XA3, so I’ll share those too at a later date.
Did it make a sound if no-one was there to witness it?
I managed to get out for an hour or so today to test my replacement Yashicamat 124G. I stayed local this time, going for a walk around the nearby Woodhouse Washlands. I was blessed by some decent light too, so if all is well I’m hoping I might get some nice pictures. I just need to find some time to develop the roll now!
A couple of shots of the northern branch of Ladybower reservoir in the Peak District. The structure crossing the water is an aqueduct which carries water from Derwent and Howden reservoirs, which are upstream to the north of Ladybower, taking it to a treatment works near Bamford and from there to the cities of Derby and Nottingham.
Using a new film camera for the first time often brings me a sense of apprehension. Will it work as expected? Where should I test it? How much effort should I put into the pictures?
Even when buying a camera from a trusted source, there’s still a risk of some sort of fault. Most film cameras are getting long in the tooth – some very much so – so I tend to avoid travelling too far afield when using one for the first time. That way, even if there is a fault, I’ve not wasted too much time and, should I want to, I can probably re-visit the location to recreate the shots if necessary. The same goes for the time and effort spent composing a picture. Do I really want to wait for the perfect light, the perfect moment, when the picture might be blighted by a mechanical fault of some variety?
With regards the location aspect, the camera I used to take the pictures shared here today (and in the coming days) did let me down. It had a shutter issue which caused missed frames that I described in a previous post. As a result, I missed a number of photo opportunities at a location that I don’t travel to often (and the hike I did was one I’ve never undertaken before, so that was all new sights to me). This was obviously disappointing.
In terms of spending time on composing and timing shots with a new camera, I still try to do my best. I know that some people will test gear by shooting test cards or a fixed scene, but the thought of using a whole role of film on that sort of efficient and controlled testing doesn’t inspire me. I’d rather try to get pictures I’ll find artistically pleasing, even if there’s some risk that they might be lost.
I now have a replacement for the faulty camera, but I’ve yet to test it. I’m planning to do so this weekend. While I will still try to get the best shots I can, I’m certainly not risking a trip to a more distant location this time, so the new camera will see first light on a visit into town, or maybe in my local area. If all goes well, then it can become a trusted travel companion.
The two shots shared today were the first two on the roll and before I had realised there was a fault. I shot them on a walk in the local area during my lunch break, so only had time for a couple. Maybe if I’d had more time I’d have discovered the fault earlier and saved myself the later disappointment.
The weather in the UK is, being generous, changeable. A day at the seaside, no matter what the forecast might promise, always bears a risk of it raining for the full duration of your visit. So what are you meant to do in these situations? Get wet?
Well we inventive Brits have a solution to everything, and so many seaside resorts around the country have you covered with a selection of shelters in which you can attempt to avoid the elements. They come in a variety of sizes and shapes, from simple bus-shelter-style to grandiose Victorian architectural gems. And if the weather is nice, maybe you can just take the weight of your feet and enjoy your fish and chips or an ice cream or something.
I really like this couple of photos. I don’t think there are any other shelters like this in Cleethorpes, but I know there are many dotted around the country’s resorts. maybe a long-term project is a possibility?
I take a lot of pictures of buildings of all shapes and sizes, but sometimes I find one that grabs my attention because it has a particularly interesting design.
The photo in today’s post illustrates this quite nicely. I have no idea of the history of this structure, but it’s an unusual shape to be sure. The wedge-shaped roof of the far section, to the oddly narrow middle section, then dropping down to a single storey section that has, what looks like, a more recent extension. It looks like an interesting place to live (I’m not sure, but it might be made up of apartments) and, as I walked past it in late December, I could see the Christmas decorations still present within, giving it a very homely feel.
An angler digs for bait at low tide on Cleethorpes beach. The beaches around the uk are a prime habitat for lugworm, which are a popular sea fishing bait. They can be bought from fishing tackle shops, but can also be harvested from the sea shore in areas where it is permitted to do so.
The worms are filter feeders and live in u-shaped burrows with a small dimple at one end and a distinctive squiggly cast at the other meaning they are easy to locate when the tide is low.
Seaside resort during the off-season are a bit of a mixed bag in terms of what is open and what is closed. Some cafes were serving hot drinks to the December tourists, some of the arcades were taking their money in exchange for amusements while others were shuttered, fish and chips were readily available, just not from everywhere, and an ice cream could still be had by the foolhardy (i.e. me).
Unsurprisingly the deckchair hut was closed though.
A couple of photographs of Cleethorpes beach. Although December, it wasn’t especially cold, so there were quite a few people about, albeit no-one making sandcastles or paddling in the sea that I saw.
The fenced-off area at middle-right of the first picture is the site of the new lifeboat station and boathouse – at the right edge of the image you can just make out the concrete supports that will hold the boat ramp when the building is complete.
Steel City Snapper photography 