March Fifteenth

This morning was overcast, and it was not until the late afternoon that the clouds dissipated and the sun finally began to wash the surrounding forests as the tide began to creep back up the shore. Undulating downward, an eagle with his lunch in his claws alighted to the screeches of the local gulls and calmly began to eat. Across the bay, the seal carcass has finally settled on the rocky shore.

March Sixteenth

The morning clouds were laced with pinks and purples, with a sea not yet at peace. In the harbour, some masks boobed back and forth while others maintained a ridged position. I wondered if, rather than the wind, a whale was playing with the hull or rubbing its side for relief.

March Seventeeth

This morning, a hoar frost lightly covers the stairs leading to the cove. The rising morning is clear, with low-coloured cumulus etching their colours on the peak of Vancouver Island. In the harbour, subtle colours outline the masks and trawlers’ wings. There is movement to my right, and I turn. A weather-worn aluminum 20-foot Bowen angles around that dock and heads out, the wake leaving a dance of different colours in the spume. On the other side, a woman holding a cash register tray swings past me onto the fuel dock. To a small building on the wharf with three small coverings over the pumps that extend out from the building. She carried no coffee to sip while the sun rose over the trees, lit up the masks, and then the hulls.

The Savory Taxi is very small in the distance, and the passengers will soon be at work, I imagine that inside the aluminum enclosure, they are conversing, some with coffee, others with a late breakfast they have bought before boarding and bantering.

The harbour begins to sleep in the late afternoon, and by sunset, there are only those sitting at the edge in a sundown ritual. Watching the light play on the waters and in the deep, murky water, odd whale shapes move in the silence, only detectable by the surface disturbance and the sudden bobbing of a single sailboat mast. The fuel reservoir is painted as a playground but still holds the movement of most things.

March Eighteenth

Walking one step at a time on the frosted steps to reach the truck, and sitting for a while while the defrost clears the windows, then curving back and forth around the walls of trees, the pavement undulates like a roller coaster. In the harbour the sun has once again brushed the clouds pinkish oranges and purples the sky about a cerelian blue. The water is calm as I watch from above as the morning commuters gathers on the dock the aluminium Salish 29 footer idleing in its tethered position. The safety reflections from the overcoats striking in contrast to the muted toques under the cotton hoods, it is a cold day. As they head out half way across the passage I can hear their conversation as if the were just down the way from me.

Coming back from the sunset cormorant reunion, we get the following communication: Lund Water District will be making an emergency repair to underwater water distribution main in Finn Bay from 8:30AM to 4:00pm, Wednesday March 19, effecting water service to Finn Bay, Sevilla island, Grouse Ridge Rd and Alanna Rd. Please prepare accordingly for water to be shut off during this time. So, we began to fill containers with water. This evening, wabes , and the water was calm but slightly troubled. Walking the docks, there was no one, just a boat unloading clams and the dock repair crew squeezing into a red compact

The art centre is located on the waterfront in Finn Bay. There is a cluster of homes with several eclectic docks and a watercraft collection; across is the old whaling station, now the Marine Group, which runs the Savory Island ferry and has a landing craft for transporting vehicles and construction materials to remote areas.

March Second

The shoreline is covered in orange rock at the intertidal zone capped with a white rock and accented with black stains.

March Third

Exploring the foreshore sculptures against the rock wall while towering above is the three-storey bedecked house perched on the slope’s edge.

March Fourth

It rained overnight on the lumen prints, and down the road, with heavy packsacks and gear, construction workers were gathering on the dock to be ferried to Savory Island. Some were sipping their morning coffee, others looking out into the distance, where the snow-tipped mountains on the distant shore disappeared into the descending clouds. The rain began to set in, deepening the colour on the rocks and trees that line the shore. A construction vehicle starts up and begins to roll onto the landing craft whose mouth is on the ramp, once on the craft moves dramatically as the truck slowly balances its weight. Suddenly, an eagle, fish in claws, undulating its wings with force, passes across my vision.

As the rain begins to dry, rich colours, such as oranges, deep blues, and greens, appear where the sea has receded. In the sea grass, oranges give way to yellows that run until the cobalt blues.

March Fifth

In the morning, it was clear that the sun heating the room is a welcome change. Walking through its rays to the window and below the tide is full. A white dog is standing in the water, quietly staring toward the birds floating just out of reach. I turn toward the truck, and it starts. Slowly, the road snakes into town. There the water taxi’s are moving out, one still half cocked with an uneven load rounding the last dock before beginning to accelerate—the cramped cabin of communiters behind the closed plastic doors still working on levelling the boat.

Afterwards, the gas dock sits obediently, its triad casts a reflection, this harbour sentinel, yachts, and treeline moving my eyes toward cloud banks on the distant mountains.

Sitting back in the chair in the day’s heat, the sky is building clouds, the warmth wanes, the clouds disperse, and a chill returns. The day becomes night, and the sky filled with stars reflects in the still waters of the cove.

March Sixth

This morning, the frost painted the car on the south side, and the ramps to the dock were slick and glistening in the low sunlight. The water taxi dock is beginning to collect its morning crew.

Leaving the harbour and climbing the stone stairs to a narrow path, that weaves around a rockface and trunks. Then downward towards the water’s edge looking out over Savory Island.

Behind me was a rock face that fell toward small stones that radiated larger as they moved toward the salt water. Above the rock ascended in a deep cobalt, then a cerelian blue capped with greens interrupted by limb debris from the firs above.

March Seventh

The clouds have rolled in again, and the seal is lying on his back and twirling in the bay before disappearing. On the landing across the way, a long dog is parading about the roadway and then gazing down beneath the emerald waters. The even light, along with the slight purple edge to the clouds, tells us that the rain is returning.

March Eighth

The radio broadcast warns of another atmospheric river—200mm, they say. Out the window, the drizzle is beginning. After a few hours, the rain is constant, the variations in the sky have consolidated into a uniform, nondescript colour, and the trees and rocks have taken on a darker tone.

March NInth

This morning, the rain was constant, and in the bay, the horizon merged with the sea. The small gully cut beside the road is full of orange-coloured water rushing through the culverts and being shot out into the bay through the galvanized steel pipe resting between the shore rock face.

March Tenth

The atmospheric river has passed and the chill has returned, everywhere there is water. Spilling over the scrub and onto the road, filling the seasonal streams beyond their banks, as I walk down the hill to the waterfront, the morning traffic of pickup trucks and trailers is making their way to the launch ramp. Savory, Cortez, Redonda, Hernando… off to build on the coast. The boat ramp lowers and down the incline, a large trailer filled with material slowly backs over the ramp and onto the deck. Once on board the boat churns a white froth in the emerald water and powers out of the harbour.

March Eleventh

I was wrong. This morning, there was heavy rain, presenting small ponds everywhere, but by mid-morning, the sky was breaking through, and calm settled in again. In that early dawn, smoke from the steel chimneys billowed into the rain, signalling fires lit for breakfast. The smoke rose in a large bloom, a foot, then moved diagonally across and between the trees and out into the bay—a trace of the wood smoke in the trees, fogging pieces of the scene.

Today is a day to be loose.

March Twelfth

Light is moving through the clouds behind me, sending itself onto the harbour, beyond there is a dark turbulent and irritated, a new wave of rain. Yet it hangs in the distance and the sky above unlocks the warmth, holds me in place, soaking it in.

Today a little more experimentation with watercolour but mostly the processing of images.

March Thirteenth

There was heavy rain and hail last night, but this morning, it is brilliantly sunny with an incredible pink sunrise. In the bay, the emerald is lit up by the sun, and gentle ripples disturb the surface. The seals couple came into the bay for breakfast at high tide, only discernable by the two subtle Vs on the water’s surface.

I wondered if I could get a good image from the camera when the sun dipped behind a bit of cloud. You can see the original unprocessed file and the final file below. To get the dynamic range under control, after denoising the image I applied a mask to the sky and then inverted the mask to process the sea. This took the image just so far and maxed out a few sliders in Lightroom. To get more range on the sliders, I placed a second mask over the sky and managed to get it balanced, I think, also inverted the second mask to adjust the sea. 

March Fourteenth

After such a clear night, the morning was much less dramatic, just a sky with a resolute tone rising from the ocean and islands, as I began clambering on the rock beach.

“The blizzards of the world have crossed the threshold, and it has overturned the order of the soul. When they say repent, I wonder what they mean.”

Reading the mm on a lens or the f-stop on the barrel of the lens may look the same on all cameras, but using the same value on cameras with different sensor sizes will provide different results. First, the f-stops do not let the same amount of light into the camera; a Fujifilm APSC camera with an f-stop of 1.4 is similar to f2 on a Sony full-frame camera. A f-2.8 lens on a GFX medium format camera is identical to f-2.2 on a full-frame camera. Second, a 50mm lens on a full frame has a similar field of view to a 35mm APSC lens or a 63mm lens on a medium format camera. The other difference is as sensor sizes get smaller, there are more noise issues. The larger the sensor, the larger the lens; the larger the lens, the more light it can gather.

f/stop Equivalents

The following chart shows that an APSC sensor camera with a 1.4 f-stop is equivalent to f2 on a full-frame camera. However, on a medium format sensor, an f2 lens would be comparable to f-1.6 on a full-frame camera or.

Sensor Sizes, Crop Factor and Lens Equivalency

In the following chart, the key column is the first blue column labelled FF, as in most instances, people compare different sensor sizes by comparing them to Full Frame equivalents. To get the full frame equivalent of a Medium format lens that is 110mm, according to this column in the chart, you would multiply 110 by .79. So a medium format 110mm lens is equivalent to an 85mm (86.9) full frame lens.

Sensor Size Comparison

Reference

• Crop Factor Calculator, Giggster
• fstop/sensor size/ full frame equivalent discussion, DPreview
• Camera Lens Equivalent Focal Length Calculator