Playing with a new toy: a 'powershot' A460 canon digital camera- plus CHDK (the canon hack development kit)

Been wanting to do some timelapse photography since last winter. I have a few projects in mind, including one of Awakeri at anchor, titled by cyber-friend Merc "The Season of the Boat." Ideally it'll be tide in, tide out- and, ahm, again. In all sorts of weather, with a lot of fast-moving clouds and some mood music. It may never work out, but things are looking better than last year. Last year, after extensive research, I bought a Nikon 'coolpix' 8400- which turned out to have dropped the timelapse feature of the 8000. Poppy is enjoying the Nikon... And I'm fascinated with the A460. CHDK is a sprawling project that uses software hacks to tap the full potential of cheap canon 'point-and-shoot' cameras. It's been developed by an unruly collection of enthusiasts- there are gaps and maddening frustrations- but also a remarkable collaborative success. So 'raw' unprocessed picture data is possible- all manner of bracketing- and the ability to over-ride, tweak and automate a whole range of features. Mostly I'm intrigued with the possibilities of time-lapse, and very long exposure times at night. But very fast exposures- and motion-detection quick enough to capture lightening- sound cool.

The Dankest Winter in Living Memory

We are beset with under-runners and foul weather. Only the hope of a week or two living on hard-tack and hiding out from swine-flu keeps our spirits up. Awakeri has an itchy bottom, due to an infestation of crabs (and barnacles.)
There's now an 'add video' button on blogger: this seems dangerous.
I'm going to try it...

this is a video I made recently. Compressed in the fancy-schmancy h264. Hey ho- it seems to work!

Summer at Windward Farm

Took one of the HD cameras from work home and got a chance to shoot a few scenes round the farm.

Blogger won't let me embed it- or I don't know how to get the html right. But it's here: Windward

Marching through March, angsting through April

There are paces in life, sometimes steady and measured, sometimes disciplined and militaristic, sometimes a long slog.
Or you can go loopy-loo and skip through the daisies one minute; loppy-la-la swung through the trees by your hair the next.
I dunno what the rhythm is at the moment, feel like I'm slouching out of step. No plans or dreams on the boil; a sort of sleep-walking with banal vistas interupted by odd forays into the bizarre.

Ruatoki Revisited

The Ureweras

In 1963 the Stowells- Bob, Anne, Laurel and I- moved to Ruatoki for a year. Dad had a job teaching English at the high school, run by a straight-backed former Major of the Maori Battalion.
We'd been in New Zealand for about a year: at Beeville commune in the Bay of Plenty, a few months in New Plymouth, a taste of Northland. We'd left the US- the farm in the woods of Vermont- looking for a better life, away from the madness and hysteria of cold-war, prosperity-conscious America.
I was just three: a white-haired kid floating a jandle down the Ruatoki River with his mum.

I can't remember much, and there's a level of family myth about the stories that remain which veils the reality. As if myths are not real...

In 1993 Penny and I were at a family wedding in Whakatane, and we drove up to Ruatoki. I wanted to find the house on the rise above the school we lived in for that year. Ruatoki has hit the headlines; balaclava-clad commando figures that do not look like police; road-blocks and rumours; a secret army training in the hills; moko and myth.

I needed to take another look at the house and the place. Here are some stills culled from casual roadside vhs video taken in 1993.

This is the house we lived in in 1963.


The blue house was next-door. I remember the two as twins, sitting on the hill- but now there are more houses, and these two are not so alike.

The Ruatoki River.

Once upon a time, this house was a vibrant new pink.

There were several marae in the area. This is not the main Ruatoki wharenui.

Horses grazed the roadside freely.

A church at another marae.

We didn't see many people, and I was shy with the camera. I'm glad I recorded at least one person.

"Mt Somers Day hath all too short a lease..."

...and back again

Jan 9.

Warm summer morning. We stretched and grunted and slowly awoke. Had coffee, chocolate and a swim. By 10 the NE was getting up, and we started tacking out.

A relaxing sail out to the heads, but once there, we sat tossing, and elected to start the motor. For an hour or so, as soon as we'd get the motor running, the breeze would seem to get up, only to die as I turned the 'rude off. We had a few speights I'd frozen that were quite cold. Into the afternoon, the wind steadied a little.

Before leaving, I'd checked the marine forecasts. Two days of NE, 5-10 knots, small chance of a little n'west, etc. A km or so off Godley head, we started to get a good southerly. It was quite warm, and at first I couldn't believe it. Soon it was up 15+ knots and quite a battle. And still rising steadily. Jonno got the jib down, and we snuck- ok, banged and flapped- into Little Port Cooper, fixin' to reef. A couple of motor-boats were selfishly hogging the only pile. We had to put in the straggliest reef I've ever sailed under, pulled hither and thither under the cliffs and about the open bay. Then we headed back out, and it still wasn't easy sailing. We made slow but steady progress tacking up-harbour. On our second tack, under the cliffs between Little Port Cooper and Camp Bay, a big cruising motorboat offered help, but we waved them off cheerily. At the same time, I was a bit worried. Checking the LPC wind records after I was back at work, it was about 20 knots that hour- and generally you can count on max gusts being about half that again. 30 knot gusts throw Awakeri over, and bat her about. It's slow progress with the wind pulling up steep little waves, against the ocean rollers. We were getting wet. While we were coping ok, I just didn't want the wind to come up any more.

Approaching the big yellow bouy that bobs about off the rocky north shore of the harbour, about a km in from Godley Head, one of the two metal straps holding the rudder gudgeons to the rudder snapped. They've done this before. I could just hold the rudder into a semi-steering position while the remaining straps were intact, but the metal was twisting badly. We flapped along quartering the sea, pushed back downwind towards Godley Head.

Fortunately, Awakeri has a spare rudder. It was probably the original, substituted for the deeper, simpler dagger-board, which gives a bit more bite. (She needs it. When she tips- and she's quite tippy- the rudder starts to come out of the water, and you have to fight it not to lose steerage and come into the wind. If you tip enough, you just do come sliding helplessly into the wind, like it or not- not necessarily unsafe, but she can be a pig to get back under control. Sigrids' design balance is not quite right, tho' once you know them, mostly workable.)

Jonno jumped below and found the spare. AB Poff was a fine deck hand all trip, bouncing about on the foredeck in big seas, but this was his finest moment. We improvised a tiller out of the boat-hook, a stainless-steel spinnaker pole, a paddle, and some twine. Tacking on- into and out of the shelter of Camp Bay; past Ripapa Island, Purau, Diamond Harbour- the wind, tho still gusty, seemed to drop intensity. (Sidebar: There are no pics of the rough stuff. We were all too busy, Jonno's camera had no battery and it was too wet to risk a camera anyway).

Dropped Crispin off about 5, and Jonno took a look at this craft- and had a chat with Andrew Fagan, one-time Mocker, on an orange circumnavigation. The wind was down to maybe 15 knots as we trundled up towards the Head of the Harbour. Little rain squalls came and went. We were wet. Started eating lollies, peanuts and apples. I knew the tide wasn't in til 9ish- quite late- and we couldn't arrive too early. But I wasn't paying enough attention, and we ran aground on the shoal off King Billy Island. Immediately tried to get the center-board up, but it was jammed. I could see the wire cable had moved out of the groove that holds it in place- scraped off on the bottom no doubt. We managed to get off the shoal by tipping her right over- aided by some decent gusts- and we skulked off across the bay. In slightly deeper water on the MP side (off Boulder Bay), I stripped off and standing and slipping around on the muddy bottom, tried with feet and hands to pull the wire free, and get it back into place. NO go. The boat was moving constantly. I got in and out several times. Jonno tried to wedge things free from inside the cabin with wire. After almost getting it, then spending another ten minutes in the surprisingly warm water, I started to shiver uncontrollably, and went below and put on clothes, wet as I was, and the lit the little gas cooker and made tea.

We were just finishing when Alice came out with a canoeful of good cheer. Of course they'd been watching... Poppy followed soon after. I was indecisive. With the centre-board down, the beach was not a good home for Awakeri. But I thought what the heck.... and started the motor to come in- and at least get some gear ashore. We took off with a pleasing roar and the mast fell down. While standing and swimming alongside, I'd been holding the stays, and I must've almost completely loosened one of the turnbuckles. Remarkably there was no injury or damage to be seen. We pulled the mast in, rolled up and stowed the main, and raised the mast. Then Jonno, Alice and Poppy went in with a load of gear, and I quite quickly managed to get the cable sorted with my toes, and had the centreboard up before they got back.

Relief greatly lightens the spirits. Moored Awakeri and carried big loads up the hill, feeling a little touched by an angel. I need to break up the reassuring normality of routine family life by doing things like this de temps en temps. But it was grand to be home, beaming back at Oscar, kissing the twins goodnight, enjoying Penny's friendly ribbing. Sailing is great but sometimes it's like banging yr head against a brick wall- the stoppin' really satisfies too.