Showing posts with label scrambler. Show all posts
Showing posts with label scrambler. Show all posts
15 December 2022
27 April 2021
It's all about the light, that precious and fickle element to photography.
More so crucial to me when photographing in subtropical locations where often it's so harsh and crisp that leads to high contrast images.
But now, coming closer to the winter solstice, it's softer, warmer and the sun lingers longer over the horizon before it sets giving more time to create a few softer images.
On a camping trip with a riding buddy.
18 February 2021
Away from crowds
Australia Day is usually a very busy day on the roads.
A lot of folk likes to pop down to the beach and local park to get drunk, disguised for what they call "celebration". I am not a fan of the mob and even less the rather embarrassing scenes of some parties. I like to get away from all that.
As soon as I headed inland, away from popular spots, even the main roads were surprisingly empty. I like to explore and find a spot to spend the night away from amenities and noisy neighbors, a place that I discover by accident, not because an Instacrap post recommended it. Rural dirt roads don't always go through and occasionally I have to backtrack; that however ensures I get to see places that most don't.
If am lucky, at the end of the day I find a spot on a creek or by the river, where I wash off the dust of riding on dirt roads.
A simple tarp is enough to keep the dew off me at night while still allowing to be in contact with nature.
.
20 October 2020
Working on a moto-centric project
A buddy of mine has agreed on working with me for a slide-show of discovering the pleasure of riding his motorcycle on country roads.
For the last two month, on evening and weekends, we have been leaving the city and headed West, to the rural areas not too far from the city. The search for the vanishing dirt roads has granted us some wonderful moments.
The conditions are always best at sunset, where the shadows are longer and softer, the light warmer and illuminating from the side. David is happy to pose for the camera and doesn't mind to do a few passes for me so I can frame him correctly. I use almost exclusively adapted old lenses to create the mood and look I need.
.
16 July 2020
Winter riding
Best time of the year to be riding.
I don't risk dehydration on longer rides when I get caught out without a hydration pack and I can wear my protective gear without overheating.
The lower angle of the sun finally gives me "European" light conditions where the sunset lasts more than mere minutes.
Adapted E.Zuiko 100mm f3.5 (for Pen-F system)
The light during the day is lower creating longer shadows and more pleasant contrast.
The air is crisp and dry with little chance of an afternoon thunderstorm to get caught in. But mornings call for a decent jacket and maybe thicker gloves.
adapted D.O. Industries Naviata 75mm f1.3 (C-mount)
adapted Canon TV-16 50mm f1.4 (C-mount)
I don't risk dehydration on longer rides when I get caught out without a hydration pack and I can wear my protective gear without overheating.
The lower angle of the sun finally gives me "European" light conditions where the sunset lasts more than mere minutes.
Adapted E.Zuiko 100mm f3.5 (for Pen-F system)
The light during the day is lower creating longer shadows and more pleasant contrast.
The air is crisp and dry with little chance of an afternoon thunderstorm to get caught in. But mornings call for a decent jacket and maybe thicker gloves.
adapted D.O. Industries Naviata 75mm f1.3 (C-mount)
adapted Canon TV-16 50mm f1.4 (C-mount)
14 October 2019
Dodging fires
The land is parched, it has been a long time since it has seen rain, and yet I hoped to reach some green spots higher on the Main Range.
The forecast was calling for high 30's maybe even 40C but nights could be still crisp.
I headed West with a vague idea of where I wanted to spend a few nights, not sure how the bush will look like.
The smoke from a week old fire was still creeping on a ridge not too far away.
When taking a wrong turn I ended up on a dead-end dirt road where the sides were all blackened, some stumps still smoldering. The local rural fire brigade saved this wonderful timber hut from the flames.
Eventually I found my way out of there and headed South where previously I spotted a great place to spend the night. Away from any highway I was hoping for a stunning view of the lower hills at sunset, but the smoke was veiling the sun giving the place an eerie orange look.
The grass was still thick and green enough to call that my camp for the night. At lunchtime the heat in the valleys reached body temperature, and yet now I was wearing a down jacket just as the night was falling.
Vanilla joined me the following day. We rode some incredibly bumpy "sealed" roads but then were relived to find dirt roads were smoother than the paved ones. The afternoon sun became just too much to be riding in the bush. A great spot on the banks of a rather shrunk river (from the drought) where shade convinced us siesta was a better idea than pushing on. At the early camp we shared the afternoon with the an incredible variety of chatterbox birds, attracted by the flowering trees.
Sadly the temperatures rose even further next day and the wind picked up. The place was a tinderbox and fires flared up turning deadly.
Our planned route to explore some remote forest tracks changed to safer main roads where travelling at speed kept us relatively much cooler than slogging in the bush.
.
The forecast was calling for high 30's maybe even 40C but nights could be still crisp.
I headed West with a vague idea of where I wanted to spend a few nights, not sure how the bush will look like.
The smoke from a week old fire was still creeping on a ridge not too far away.
When taking a wrong turn I ended up on a dead-end dirt road where the sides were all blackened, some stumps still smoldering. The local rural fire brigade saved this wonderful timber hut from the flames.
Eventually I found my way out of there and headed South where previously I spotted a great place to spend the night. Away from any highway I was hoping for a stunning view of the lower hills at sunset, but the smoke was veiling the sun giving the place an eerie orange look.
The grass was still thick and green enough to call that my camp for the night. At lunchtime the heat in the valleys reached body temperature, and yet now I was wearing a down jacket just as the night was falling.
Vanilla joined me the following day. We rode some incredibly bumpy "sealed" roads but then were relived to find dirt roads were smoother than the paved ones. The afternoon sun became just too much to be riding in the bush. A great spot on the banks of a rather shrunk river (from the drought) where shade convinced us siesta was a better idea than pushing on. At the early camp we shared the afternoon with the an incredible variety of chatterbox birds, attracted by the flowering trees.
Sadly the temperatures rose even further next day and the wind picked up. The place was a tinderbox and fires flared up turning deadly.
Our planned route to explore some remote forest tracks changed to safer main roads where travelling at speed kept us relatively much cooler than slogging in the bush.
.
25 February 2019
The need for getting lost
I find a strange pleasure in getting lost, intentionally.
In a world that is fully mapped with extreme detail, where the eye-in-the-sky of Google Earth can bring me to view any tiny remote place on the planet, I sometimes long for the feeling of not knowing where I am.
Being lost, at least temporarily, in a natural setting brings me the (false) sense that the world is not so small after all.
Where not essential, like in a busy urban environment, I prefer to not use electronic navigation aids. I roughly work out where I want to head away from busy places and then often I just want to explore.
Lately I have been finding myself more and more drawn to dirt roads where a clear direction is not defined. I choose a forest with a network of trails, some rather smooth, some very rough, not suitable for my riding choice. I have to make a judgment call not to bite more than I chew.
As they say: when you come to a fork in the road, take it.
Sometimes my gut feeling says right and other times left, according to what valley or mountain ridge peek through the forest trees.
Getting lost, no longer sure of my heading
Last Sunday I had full tank of gas and enough water in my backpack to keep thirst at bay. I rode for a few hours, stopping at times when the views demanded it.
Slowly I could no longer work out the right perceived direction to get back onto the pavement. I knew if I rode long enough I could have popped out somewhere but the rutted, rocky and pot-holed tracks were tiring me out; I didn't want to make a mistake and crash.
Steep, loose and dusty
I stumbled across a 4X4 driver, stopped at an intersection and swallowing my manly pride rode up to the driver side and asked for directions.
She had a phone in her hand looking at a map and pointed me in the direction I came from: "take a left when you come at the last intersection, keep left and eventually you will get out".
I had my phone in my pocket with detailed GPS maps too but somehow it was easier and nicer to ask for directions.
.
In a world that is fully mapped with extreme detail, where the eye-in-the-sky of Google Earth can bring me to view any tiny remote place on the planet, I sometimes long for the feeling of not knowing where I am.
Being lost, at least temporarily, in a natural setting brings me the (false) sense that the world is not so small after all.
Where not essential, like in a busy urban environment, I prefer to not use electronic navigation aids. I roughly work out where I want to head away from busy places and then often I just want to explore.
Lately I have been finding myself more and more drawn to dirt roads where a clear direction is not defined. I choose a forest with a network of trails, some rather smooth, some very rough, not suitable for my riding choice. I have to make a judgment call not to bite more than I chew.
As they say: when you come to a fork in the road, take it.
Sometimes my gut feeling says right and other times left, according to what valley or mountain ridge peek through the forest trees.
Getting lost, no longer sure of my heading
Last Sunday I had full tank of gas and enough water in my backpack to keep thirst at bay. I rode for a few hours, stopping at times when the views demanded it.
Slowly I could no longer work out the right perceived direction to get back onto the pavement. I knew if I rode long enough I could have popped out somewhere but the rutted, rocky and pot-holed tracks were tiring me out; I didn't want to make a mistake and crash.
Steep, loose and dusty
I stumbled across a 4X4 driver, stopped at an intersection and swallowing my manly pride rode up to the driver side and asked for directions.
She had a phone in her hand looking at a map and pointed me in the direction I came from: "take a left when you come at the last intersection, keep left and eventually you will get out".
I had my phone in my pocket with detailed GPS maps too but somehow it was easier and nicer to ask for directions.
.
30 October 2018
Off the beaten path
When chasing dreams of years past I feel most comfortable when I am in "adventure" mode.
Sea kayak expeditions certainly give me that but a friendly coast that allows me to explore is not always easy to attain.
Before my wet adventures I used to ride motorcycles, adventure bikes, before that class even existed.
I am now back on two wheels and while backroads away from the main highways do give me a sense of escape, my heart is still in the dirt, dirt roads that is.
Yamaha XSR700
My bike needed some tires that would make it sing on gravel, it needed teeth to bight into the soil.
While not really a machine that could cross the desert like my previous rides, this little thumper behaves well enough to be comfortable on country farm roads that are not paved. And that is where I like to ride.
There is no traffic, only the occasional vehicle that is going into town for supplies. There is a bit of dust and a few creek crossings, a bit of loose stones and mud after rain. There are no curbs or shoulders, no speed cameras and drunken drivers, no ass-hauling trucks with swaying trailer. Mostly there is nobody out there, just me. But I see horses and cows, and towards the evening a few kangaroos that hop across the road. Speeds are low but the ride is thrilling in a different way.
And then I stop anywhere I want and there is nothing but silence, maybe an undertone buzzing sound of insects, maybe a laughing kookaburra.
Inevitably my eyes keep on scouting for suitable places to camp even if I have no intention to do that tonight. It's like in the old days when I used to ride with a few buddies, heading West.
Bikes loaded with camping gear and a map stuck to the gas tank. It was pre-digital era where a compass would be consulted occasionally. I still carry a map today even if my phone could get me out of a geographical embarrassment if needed.
.
Sea kayak expeditions certainly give me that but a friendly coast that allows me to explore is not always easy to attain.
Before my wet adventures I used to ride motorcycles, adventure bikes, before that class even existed.
I am now back on two wheels and while backroads away from the main highways do give me a sense of escape, my heart is still in the dirt, dirt roads that is.
Yamaha XSR700
My bike needed some tires that would make it sing on gravel, it needed teeth to bight into the soil.
While not really a machine that could cross the desert like my previous rides, this little thumper behaves well enough to be comfortable on country farm roads that are not paved. And that is where I like to ride.
There is no traffic, only the occasional vehicle that is going into town for supplies. There is a bit of dust and a few creek crossings, a bit of loose stones and mud after rain. There are no curbs or shoulders, no speed cameras and drunken drivers, no ass-hauling trucks with swaying trailer. Mostly there is nobody out there, just me. But I see horses and cows, and towards the evening a few kangaroos that hop across the road. Speeds are low but the ride is thrilling in a different way.
And then I stop anywhere I want and there is nothing but silence, maybe an undertone buzzing sound of insects, maybe a laughing kookaburra.
Inevitably my eyes keep on scouting for suitable places to camp even if I have no intention to do that tonight. It's like in the old days when I used to ride with a few buddies, heading West.
Bikes loaded with camping gear and a map stuck to the gas tank. It was pre-digital era where a compass would be consulted occasionally. I still carry a map today even if my phone could get me out of a geographical embarrassment if needed.
.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)