Posts Tagged With: drone

Here She Blows

There are two major factors that afford Hawaii its famously congenial climate: that big, fat temperature moderator known as the Pacific Ocean, and the trade winds. The trades blow from the northeast, though big storm systems can disrupt or even reverse that flow as we saw a week or two ago. But on a typical day the winds around the Big Island appear as they do on this screen snap from a weather app on my phone, taken earlier today:

SmartSelect_20190225-141109_Windy

You might expect from this image that you’d get the strongest and most constant winds at the three vertices where they whip around the edges of the island: the eastern-, northern- and southernmost points. And you’d be right. Today the winds there appear to be blowing at about 15 mph (25 kph), which is somewhat milder than usual. This worked to my advantage yesterday, as you’ll see in a moment.

You might also reason that those would be good places to build wind farms to get some renewable energy action going, and you’d be mostly right about that too. They’ve never done it at the eastern edge, an area called Pahoa that is most famously on the eastern slope of Kilauea volcano. Building a wind farm on the slopes of an active volcano is probably not the best idea, so it hasn’t happened. (That hasn’t stopped people from building homes there though, more than a few of which are currently underneath tens of meters of lava.)

But they have built wind farms at South Point, the southernmost point of the island, and at its mirror image at Upolu Point up at the very north. The South Point installation was an economic failure and was shut down in 2012, though the Mad Max-ish rusting towers, several with missing blades, stand there to this day, as you can see.38446415390_e2610fb019_hBut the Upolu installation near the town of Hawi has been operational since 2006 and generates over 10 MW of power, enough to power a few thousand homes. It has had some hiccups, including a couple of occasions when it had to be shut down when the winds were too strong.

But the winds were mild enough yesterday for me to achieve a goal I’ve sought for the past year, namely flying my drone over the windmills. So here are a few drone photos of the towers. To give you an idea of scale, each blade is about 75′ (23 m) long.

Upolu Point 0977-Edit

Upolu Point 0973

And here’s a 3-minute video flyover, with a guest appearance of the island of Maui on the horizon at about the 0:55 second mark.

You’ll also notice a small runway. Upolu Airport is a very small general aviation airport that, having little infrastructure and being in relatively remote area of the island, does not see a lot of traffic. When we lived here in the 1980’s it was a favorite place of mine to practice my touch-and-go landings, usually landing towards the northeast into the reliable trade winds.

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Categories: Hawaii | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Coral at Kealakekua Bay

Here’s the promised one-minute drone video from yesterday’s visit to the Captain Cook memorial.

If you think that that Fair Wind tour looks like a lot of fun, you’re right. (No, they are not paying me for the plug. In fact, the crew were not altogether happy to see the drone hovering nearby.) A couple of things are worth noting, notably the proliferation of coral and the stunning clarity of the water. The imagery is not enhanced: it really looks like that. But I have already noticed in increase in the amount of coral bleaching over the years; it is due to both rising water ocean temperatures and some of the ingredients in many sunscreen lotions. Those would be oxybenzone and octinoxate, which interfere with coral reproduction and cause bleaching, and butylparaben, a preservative that may also  cause bleaching. Hawaii has banned the first two, starting in 2021. Interestingly, a lot of dermatologists were opposed to the ban, fearing that it would discourage people from using any sunscreen at all. But in fact the transition has already begun, and the stores are full of reef-safe sunscreens. Their active ingredients are those old standbys, zinc and titanium oxides.

I would also like to bring to your attention one other Captain Cook-related fact that I forgot to mention in yesterday’s post, namely that in addition to his human crew Cook had on board what may be the most well-traveled goat in history.  In 1766, two years before Cook’s first voyage (he reached Hawaii on his second), the HMS Dolphin circumnavigated the globe under the command of Capt. Samuel Wallis. On board was the biologist Joseph Banks, who had brought along his goat to provide milk for the crew. If this were to happen today, Banks would have to pay a $25 Goat Surcharge and store the beast underneath the seat in front of him. But in this case no surcharge was applied and the goat became the first caprine to sail around the world. (It is also the reason that you are now looking up the word “caprine” in the dictionary.)

Two years later, Cook invited Banks on his voyage as well. Banks accepted… and brought along the same goat, which consequently circumnavigated the globe again, this time on the HMS Endeavour. Cook brought the animal home to his farm in England after this voyage, where she lived out her days in unheralded peace. According to Cook’s diary she died on March 28, 1772. Nobody knows the goat’s name. Today she would have an Instagram account.

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So Long, Jim

I’m writing this blog post on February 16, two days later than I ought to, because Valentine’s Day was the 240th anniversary of the death of Captain James Cook, whose third exploration voyage on the HMS Resolution brought him to Hawaii in January of 1778 and made him the first European to see these islands.

Cook initially spent about a month around Kauai and then headed north to explore what is now northern California, Oregon, Vancouver, and southern Alaska. Astutely noticing that those places were cold, he eventually made his way back to Hawaii, cruising around the archipelago before making landfall on the west coast of the Big Island near the village of Kealakekua. (If you’ve ever heard the song “Little Grass Shack” you know how to pronounce it.) He stuck around for about a month, then set sail again, at which point things began to go to hell in the proverbial handbasket.

Shortly after getting underway, the Resolution’s mast broke, and the ship was forced to return to  Kealakekua Bay. A quarrel broke out between the crew and the locals, however, and in the melee a number of men from the village stole one of the Resolution’s cutters, which were small auxiliary boats. Vowing not to negotiate with terrorists, Capt. Cook decided to overreact by attempting to kidnap the king, an effort that ended about as well as you’d expect. Cook was clubbed down, then stabbed to death along with four other crewman. It would be left to future generations to revisit the island and develop the first timeshare condos.

Now Kealakekua Bay is a beautiful marine reserve with crystal waters and abundant fish and coral, marked with a monument to Cook on the shoreline. Here was the scene today, captured by my trusty drone.

Kealakekua Bay 0950-Edit

You can see the monument at left. The boat at right is the Fair Wind II, a local tour operation that brings snorkelers to the otherwise nearly inaccessible bay.  (It’s quite a fun outing: I recommend it if you’re here.) Here are some closer shots of each.

Kealakekua Bay 0949

Kealakekua Bay 0943

The inscription at the base of the obelisk reads, “In memory of the great circumnavigator Captain James Cook, R.N. who discovered these islands on the 18th of January, 1778, and fell near this spot on the 14th of February, 1779.” The Hawaiians, needless to say, take issue with the word “discovered” since, having lived here for several hundred years, they knew where it was all along.

(And as for the Fair Wind II, those two long skinny things at the front of the boat are exactly what they look like: water slides. I’ll post some video later showing them in action.)

One of the interesting sidelights to Kealakekua Bay is one that most tourists miss, since it is at the opposite side of the mile-wide bay (and, as it happens, exactly where I launched the drone from). Capt. Cook was brought here to a temple, known in Hawaiian as a heiau. The Hikiau heiau is a solid rectangular stone structure, originally nearly the size of a football field but smaller today. Here’s a view of it from the air:

Kealakekua Bay 0965

The smaller structure at the lower right end is believed to be the lele, the altar. This particular temple is called a luakini, which is a type used for human sacrifices. Sacrifice victims were usually war captives, though sometimes slaves were used. If this practice were followed today I suppose they could grab tourists, but it’s probably a gamble since I imagine that the gods have very mixed feelings about them.

Categories: Hawaii | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Things Are Looking Down

This being a travel blog and all, almost all of my posts are location-specific. This one is a little different. Those of you who have been following the blog for a while know that in the past year I have been enlivening my posts, especially those from Hawaii and Iceland, with my now one-year-old toy, a Mavic Pro drone with a very nice 12 megapixel stabilized onboard camera. This wonderful piece of technology has not only afforded me some beautiful photos but also led to me teaching a course in drone photography at the Maryland Hall for the Creative Arts (MHCA) here in our hometown of Annapolis. And now I am excited to report that it has led to my having my very first solo gallery exhibition, late this year at MHCA. The show will be exclusively featuring my drone photos, probably about 20 large prints.

So the purpose of this post is to sublimate my excitement by telling all of my followers about this (499 of you as of this writing…. one more and I get raptured to Blogger Heaven), and to give you a preview of the images that I will be exhibiting. I haven’t decided on the final set yet; the show is scheduled for September, though it may slip into early 2020 for complicated reasons that I won’t bore you with. But it will almost certainly include this set (below), many of which have appeared previously in my blog posts. For convenience I have embedded them as a slide show so you don’t have to do any scrolling or clicking.

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Our next actual travel destination will be our annual return to the Big Island of Hawaii for the whole month of February. So stay tuned!

Categories: Hawaii, Iceland, US Mainland | Tags: , , , , , , , | 6 Comments

Pssst, Mister! Wanna See Pictures of Iceland, Paris, and Prague?

I have — with commendable efficiency, if I do say so myself — gotten my act together and culled and edited the complete set of photos and videos from our recent sojourn. So if you’re interested in a multimedia summary of the trip, here you go:

Click here for all 244 Iceland photos. 

Click here for 44 Paris photos.

Click here for 101 Prague photos. 

If it’s any consolation, I actually took about 2000 shots, so these three albums are the “best of”.

Among the many pleasures of this trip were the several opportunities in Iceland to get some aerial videos with my drone. (Drone flying is a no-no in Paris and Prague.) There were several popular tourist sites (e.g., Gullfoss and Dettifoss waterfalls) where drones were prohibited, and there were plenty of other places where they were allowed by the authorities but not by the weather; Iceland is notoriously windy. (Fun fact: your rental car insurance agreement in Iceland explicitly excludes coverage if the wind blows your car doors off. Yes, really.) So here is a little six-minute compendium of the flights that I was able to make, complete with Icelandic background folk music:

Categories: Czech, Europe, France, Iceland | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Volcanic Vistas

First off, I am obliged to report the more or less total failure of our second attempt at aurora viewing. The skies indeed cleared somewhat late last night, but not enough. We did see an auroral glow on the horizon, but it was nothing to write home about. (So I am writing to 500 strangers about it instead. Oh well.)

Today was a long day of driving today, with a couple of stops along the way. I’m too tired to exude my usual effervescent narrative, so I’ll let the pictures do the talking in this short post.

First stop: the Myvatn thermal baths. You may have heard of Reykjavik’s famous Blue Lagoon, and this is that, minus the “Blue” part and about half the admission fee. It’s a natural thermal spring with a large wading pool architected around it; its temperature varies somewhat from place to place within the pool but averages about 39 C (102 F). Here’s the scene, plus Alice, Tim, Janet, and a complete stranger in the background enjoying it.

Iceland Myvatn 2018-050-Edit

Iceland Myvatn 2018-071

We were still in Geothermal Mode for our next stop, the Hverir mud pots, basically a scale model of Yellowstone. There’s a short walking path around the area, lined with boiling mud, fumaroles, cracked mud fields, brightly colored mud, and, well, mud. It’s a fun place to visit for perhaps a half hour unless you are ambitious enough to hike up to the top of adjacent Namafjall mountain. We weren’t.

Iceland Myvatn 2018-074-Edit

Further down the road — much further — was the Dettifoss waterfall, accessible by a 30 km long unpaved road, which made for some bone-jarring driving. Dettifoss is situated on the Jökulsá á Fjöllum river, which flows from the Vatnajökull glacier. But of course, you knew that. More interestingly, it is about 45 meters (150′) high and, at about 193 cubic meters per second (over 50,000 gallons per second) is one of the most voluminous falls in Europe. (Tim asked huffily why Europe claimed it, but there’s a real answer: it lives on the east, i.e. European, side of the rift separating the two continental plates.)

Iceland Dettifoss 2018-006-Edit

Iceland Dettifoss 2018-017

What I found even more striking than the falls themselves is the canyon downstream from them, which looks a little like a pint-sized Grand Canyon. See for yourself:

Iceland Dettifoss 2018-004-Edit

See what I mean?

About a mile upstream from Dettifoss is Selfoss, one of the most famous falls in Iceland. But the path to it is rocky and uneven, and by late afternoon we were not feeling that ambitious. Janet and Tim started out for it for turned around about halfway there; Alice and I wimped out altogether. (Anyway, I was busy taking pictures. Pictures, yeah, that’s the ticket.)

We had about a 2 1/2 drive ahead of us after Dettifoss, past remarkable terrain, sometimes an arid volcanic rockscape, sometimes a flowered tundra. There were eroded cinder cones everywhere, rounded by the ages, that made the area oddly resemble the northern parts of the Big Island of Hawaii. That’s not as unlikely a pairing as it sounds: both islands are essentially giant volcanoes, both roughly a million years old. So here’s a panorama of that tectonic terrain:

Iceland Terrain 2018-017-Edit

This particular area has a lot of ground cover; when it is absent the land is a featureless gray desert that goes on for miles, limned by distant mountains. But some areas are wild with ground cover: yellow and orange grasses and tiny wildflowers that give the otherwise bleak terrain an oddly benign prairie-like appearance, like this:

Iceland Terrain 2018-013

Rising above it via drone gives an even more majestic perspective: the color goes on for miles, with nary a car in sight. I’ll post a video of the drone flight later, but for now, to end today’s post, here’s a striking drone’s-eye view from about 100 meters up. You can see that the road is not so great, but the vista makes up for the bumps.

Iceland Terrain Drone 2018-001

Categories: Europe, Iceland | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Ever Northward

We are now near the town of Sauðárkrókur, which if you’re allergic to the weird typography is written as Saudarkrokur in non-Icelandic. That’s actually a little misleading since the third character, the ð, looks like a d but is actually pronounced th. But the main point is that it is at a latitude of 65.7°, which puts us about 55 miles (90 km) below the Arctic Circle. You wouldn’t know it from the weather, which was mostly sunny and mild today, reaching about 15 C (59 F). The relatively balmy temperatures and the sunshine, combined with much milder winds, made it a fine day to continue our drive to the north and take in the scenery, which at its most idyllic looked like this.

Iceland Grabrok and North Drone 2018-017-EditIceland Grabrok and North 2018-026Iceland Grabrok and North 2018-029

I took the top two via drone; it was a good day for that too. All three shots were taken about halfway into today’s journey, when we stopped for lunch at a turnoff from the road next to the river in the picture. Our company was a team of sheep herders and their dogs and ATV, rounding up an enormous flock on a nearby hillside.

Our first stop of the day had actually been an hour earlier, at the Grábok (the name means “gray rock”) cinder cones, the remnants of a not-completely-ancient volcano. It’s setting is a stark volcanic landscape with close greenish-yellow ground cover, as you can see here.

Iceland Grabrok and North 2018-012

This particular environmental motif is typically Icelandic: if you live outside of the city you are morally obliged to build a white farmhouse with a red roof on an otherwise desolate landscape with mountains in the background. If you don’t believe me, compare that last photo to the first one in this post after the lead-in paragraph. See?

Grábok is about 100 meters tall and has a convenient boardwalk leading up its side and around the crater rim. You can see it clearly in this drone view, taken from about 100 meters above the crater rim:

 

Iceland Grabrok and North Drone 2018-016

(I also shot a nice video of the drone flyoner, which I will post at a later date.) You may also notice a few rows of stones, about a quarter of the way up from the bottom of the image and about a quarter of the way in from the right. That is an archaeological site, the remains of a settlement dating from the 10th century, when the Norse first arrived in Iceland. In the century or so after those initial settlements, the locals were building sod houses like these.

Iceland Grabrok and North 2018-062

 

The walls and the roof are all made of chunks of sod as advertised, and since plants like to grow upwards, the roofs sprout. These particular guys are found at the  Glaumbaer Folk Museum, a little ways south of Sauðárkrókur. They are surprisingly sophisticated dwellings, extending two stories underground and containing kitchens, storage areas, and dormitory-like bunk bed sleeping quarters. The fronts of the buildings are made of wood as you can see (now reconstructed, of course), which raises the obvious question of how you build with wood when there are no trees around. The terrain is bleak and treeless, with not a lot of promising building materials. But we are very close to the coast, and so the answer is: driftwood! The early inhabitants gathered enough driftwood to build houses, furniture, and (I presume) horse carts.

Speaking of horses, there are a lot of them around. Small in stature but nimble on the rough ground and on ice, Icelandic horses are all the descendants of the initial cargoes of ponies from Norway, brought over in the 10th and 11 centuries. They still look like ponies, and according to my dictionary definition they are ponies, being barely 5 feet  (1.5 meters) high at the shoulder. However, you must not call them ponies here. To Icelanders they are horses, dammit, and if you call the horses “ponies” the locals will throw you into a fjord with your hiking boots tied around your neck.

I should also mention that they all have gorgeous manes; they all look either blow-dried or carefully windblown. You can admire the mane that this not-pony is sporting against a dramatic background.

Iceland Grabrok and North 2018-056-Edit

Beautiful, yes, but what are all these horses for? There isn’t a big demand for draft animals in Iceland these days, and a horse this size would hardly do the job anyway. The answer is that most are pets or used for riding, and the ones that aren’t suitable for either of those or for breeding are… eaten. (Do not tell my niece, who is a very avid and experienced horsewoman.)

I mention all this horse stuff because our lodgings this evening are a beautiful 3-bedroom guest house on a working farm about 10 km south of Sauðárkrókur. And by a “working farm” I mean that the owners were out all day gathering sheep into this pen:

Iceland Grabrok and North 2018-066

(The horns notwithstanding, these are all ewes. The males are kept separately.) Like most farms it is kind of in the middle of nowhere, so we returned to town for dinner, driving northward along the fjord around sunset as a sharply-defined cloud layer formed a few tens of meters over the water, hovering like a gigantic UFO.  The town itself is very small, with a only a couple thousand inhabitants, and just about the only restaurant was the suspiciously-named “Hard Wok”, whose two-page menus offered cuisine from about five different countries, including Chinese, Italian, and Mexican food. Our meals were surprisingly good.

Tomorrow, we fuel up — with actual diesel this time, thank you very much — and continue eastward and a little farther north.

 

 

Categories: Europe, Italy | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

No, NOT the One With the Green Handle

OK, I want to be clear here. In the United States, the petrol pump with the green handle is always diesel. Always! Am I right, or am I right? I thought so. And so my error was not only forgivable, but unavoidable. Unavoidable, I say! But I am getting ahead of myself.

We left Reykjavik at about 10 AM today, en route to the north, to the area around Borganes, a small town on one of the western fjords of the country. Our specific destinations were a lava cave and a couple of well-known waterfalls in the vicinity. But first we needed to fill the tank of our thirsty 4WD behemoth, a double-cab Isuzu pickup truck with an enclosed bed for our luggage.

There was a gas station just around the corner from the flat, a brand called Olío. (Notice the accent over the letter i, which gives it a long i sound.) Our vehicle requires diesel fuel, which I noticed that all the pumps offered. So I drove up to the first pump, inserted my credit card, and engaged the pump with the green handle since that is OBVIOUSLY DIESEL FUEL. I pumped about 40 liters — costing approximately 12 million dollars US — as Tim and I congratulated each other on our manly ability to pump gas in a foreign country. (By the way, for the record, petrol actually costs roughly US $9 per gallon here.) But as I hung the pump back in its cradle, my eye was drawn to an adjacent pump handle — stealthy black in color — with a tag on it that, in ominous Icelandic, read “Díesl”. By virtue of my highly advanced linguistic skills, I immediately realized that, in NASA parlance, I had screwed the proverbial pooch. In particular, I had just put about 40 liters of 95-octane petrol into a diesel vehicle. The only saving grace of the situation was that I had noticed this before we had set out on our drive and inevitably broken down in the middle of some godforsaken windswept glacial tundra, which is where it surely would have happened.

But since we were still at the petrol station, the potential catastrophe had been reduced to what Alice and I refer to in our travels as an “MSP”, which stands for “Money-Solvable Problem.” I went to the counter of the service station, where the friendly attendant called a local guy who handles this sort of thing. Said local guy, a creased, windburnt, businesslike 60-something in coveralls, showed up about 20 minutes later, siphoned out the contaminated fuel, and — because we had called him from home on a weekend — somewhat apologetically charged me an amount of money that was shockingly much even by Icelandic standards. Like I said, an MSP.

We refueled the vehicle — another 18 million dollars of “Díesl” this time — and, this particular misadventure behind us, set out on our away again. Our route to the lava cave first brought us past Borganes and its adjacent fjord, bordering a scrubby green and yellow steppe at the foot of a line of steep volcanic mountains. Despite the bleakness — it was an overcast, windy day with a smattering of rain — there was a certain stark idyllic quality to the setting, as you can see from scenes like this.

Iceland Borganes 2018-004-Edit

The fjord itself is broad and still, and at the time we were there the tide was out, revealing a maze of low muddy shoals. Fortunately both the wind and rain died down for long enough to allow a drone flight, during which I captured these panoramas from the air:

Iceland Borganes Drone 2018-030-EditIceland Borganes Drone 2018-017-Edit

The bridge at lower left leads directly into Borganes. But although we are sleeping there tonight, our lava cave of interest lay about a 45 minute drive beyond it. The cave — actually a lava tube — is called Víðgelmir, which like many Icelandic place names is best pronounced whilst eating a marshmallow. It sits in the middle of a lava field at the foot of the Langjökull  glacier, which you can see here.

Iceland Lava Cave 2018-010

The cave is more than 30 meters underground with assorted ledges and overhangs, so we were first equipped with helmets with mounted flashlights. As you can see from this photo we were ready for some volcanic spelunking.

Iceland Lava Cave 2018-009

The entrance to the cave is suitably maw-like, and we picked our way along the, um, unadventurous wooden stairs and boardwalk, following our guide and listening to his lecture about the geology of the place.

Iceland Lava Cave 2018-019Iceland Lava Cave 2018-023

We are not unfamiliar with lava tubes because of our time in Hawaii, but Víðgelmir is particularly impressive. It’s nearly a mile long and sports a variety of lava formations much more typical of a “conventional” limestone cave, e.g., stalactites and stalagmites, albeit very small ones. But its most (to me) unexpected feature is a consequence of its temperature, which hovers at just about freezing. Consequently there are a large number of crystalline stalagmite-like ice formations like these.

Iceland Lava Cave 2018-037

Iceland Lava Cave 2018-033

I found them particularly otherwordly. And indeed, if you get too close they break open and this thing that looks like a horseshoe crab jumps out and grabs your face, and you just know what’s gonna happen after that.

The cave tour lasted about an hour and a half, and we set out to our next destination, the Barnafoss and Hraunfossar waterfalls, adjacent to each other along a short looping walking path. They’re beautiful and would have made a great venue for a drone flight except that by this time the rain had started in earnest.  Hraunfossar — the name means “lava falls” — has an unusual property: its water seems to come out of nowhere. What actually happens is that the glacial melt percolates through the surrounding lava field and emerges as a line of cataracts along the river; indeed, you can actually see the water coming out of the rock. Take a look:

Iceland Barnafoss 2018-006

Barnafoss, only about 200 meters away, means “Child Falls”, named after a rather dreary local legend about them. The story goes that one day two boys, home alone while their parents went to church, got bored and decide to follow.  (The assertion that two young boys spontaneously decided to go to church on their own tells you immediately that this is a myth.)  Anyway, the legend tells that they tried to take a shortcut over a natural stone bridge that crossed the falls, but fell off the bridge and drowned. The mother of the boys then cursed the bridge, and shortly afterward it was destroyed by an earthquake. This is about as cheerful as Icelandic legends get. It must be the weather. In any case, here’s Barnafoss:

Iceland Barnafoss 2018-013

You can tell from the photos how gray the sky had gotten, and in fact it was pretty much pouring by this time. So we gawked until satisfied, then retreated to the car and returned to Borganes. Our lodgings are an AirBnb, a very pleasant two-bedroom cottage overlooking the fjord. Borganes has a population of only about 3,000 but I am happy to report that we were able to satisfy Janet’s craving for pizza: there are at least two pizzerias in town, and the one we chose was excellent.

Tomorrow: further into the frozen north!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Categories: Europe, Iceland | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

Droning Over OBX

If you’re not from the east coast of the US, you may not be entirely familiar with the Outer Banks, an enormous barrier island beach vacation destination in North Carolina. The term “OBX” to describe them is a relatively recent marketing invention; I don’t recall ever hearing it when I was a kid. In fact, the term “Outer Banks” itself only dates from the 1930’s.

The area is one of the longest pleasure beaches in the world: a 200-mile (320 km) strong of barrier islands more or less waiting to be destroyed by a hurricane. Unlike many barrier islands, OBX is (are?) not anchored by a coral reef, making them particularly vulnerable. Mother Nature likes un-anchored barrier islands to be movable: the oceanward sides of them erode away while the landward sides silt up and eventually merge with the mainland. Wave action then causes the barrier to re-form on the ocean side, and the cycle begins anew.

The problem, of course, is that houses are a lot less mobile than sand, and so the tourism and real estate powers-that-be engage in a constant and ultimately losing battle with the laws of physics.  But until that final capitulation occurs, it’s a great place to vacation, and my family and I have done so regularly. The tradition is to rent one of the gigantic multi-bedroom beach houses and to overeat for a week. Such houses are lined up along the beach, patiently generating tourist revenue and awaiting their destruction.

OBX 2018 Canon-044-Edit

This year was no exception, the new twist being that I now had a drone to fly. So here’s our house from the air (it’s the one in the foreground), followed by two panoramic views of the beach itself. (The lower one is looking northward at sunset.)

OBX 2018-003

OBX 2018-001

OBX sunset drone

That pier on the left side of the middle photo has a name of some historical significance. Here’s a ground-based shot that gives it away:

OBX 2018 Canon-037 In case you’re not viewing this on a big screen, it says “Kitty Hawk Pier”. Here’s a drone’s-eye view of it.

OBX 2018-002

This is the area where the Wright brothers inaugurated the air travel age in 1903, and do not imagine for one moment that the local tourism gurus let you forget it. The actual event took place a mile or two from this pier, in Kill Devil Hills, and there is of course a memorial there. There is also the actual course of the flight marked out, and you can easily walk its length in about 30 seconds as it is only 120′ (36m) long. (For comparison, the wingspan of a 747 is about 60% longer than that.) The flight took 12 seconds, and their luggage showed up three days later.

Another historical name that pops up frequently in the area is Virginia Dare. Roads, restaurants, you name it, she’s everywhere. Which is somewhat remarkable, because her sole claim to fame is being born here, the first child born to English settlers in the New World. That was in August 1587. Three months later her grandfather sailed back to England on a supply run, and when he returned Virginia, her parents, and the entire colony had disappeared altogether, thereby creating one of the enduring mysteries of American history. Ms. Dare — or at least her name — has had quite a good run of it since then, however, as everything from a soft drink to an icon of women’s suffrage, which is not a bad legacy considering that absolutely nothing else is known about her.

I’ll end this note with a non-drone picture, taken at night underneath the pier. I post it here entirely because (a) I like how the shot came out (it’s a 3-second time exposure) and (b) it’s my blog, dammit.

OBX 2018 Canon-024

Our next travel adventure will be in less than 4 weeks, to Iceland, Paris, and Prague. Watch this space!

Categories: US Mainland | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

Lights, Camera, More Lights

Baltimore is one of those cities that has enjoyed a real renaissance in the past 30-40 years or so, sparked by the arrival of the Tall Ships as part of the 1976 Bicentennial and the development of its renowned Inner Harbor area in the subsequent few years. The city still has a pretty well-deserved reputation for grittiness, part of its blue-collar ethnic character, but it’s a lively place with a lot to offer. City officials have taken full advantage of its gentrified areas, and the Inner Harbor in particular, in addition to hosting two major sports teams, is the frequent site of one multimedia event or another. This past week’s extravaganza was the annual “Light City” festival, a high voltage — literally — celebration of technology and innovation. And lights. Lots of lights. Spinning lights, blinking lights, flying lights, motion-sensitive lights, color-changing lights, and so on.

It is surprisingly difficult to get good photos in a setting like that. The surroundings are dark, which means that there is plenty of time for people in the bustling crowd to walk in front of the camera during, say, a 2-second exposure. And the lights are bright (being lights and all), which means that the scene is all brights and darks with little in between, which is a photographic challenge when it comes to setting the exposure. Nonetheless, here are a few samples from last night.

Baltimore Light Festival 2018-026Baltimore Light Festival 2018-029-EditBaltimore Light Festival 2018-037Baltimore Light Festival 2018-050That’s Alice in the top photo, taking a video of the rotating prisms. (Remember the part about the lights moving?) And the odd-looking blue-lit sculptures in the bottom photo collectively form a drone racing course — the Drone Prix (really) — where guys with much faster reactions than me steer their little high speed racing drones around the course, occasionally crashing into the nylon mesh fence that you can see across the picture. You can see the drone as well, or at least its running lights: it’s that double track of green and yellow that is swirling around the image over the course of its 5-second exposure.

Speaking of which…

I almost lost my own drone last week by making the most stupid rookie mistake possible, i.e. not flying higher than the surrounding trees while making an aerial video of a friend’s house. Fortunately a tree service and a $200 check got it back to me. Here’s the whole drama, boiled down to a one-minute video complete with dramatic soundtrack:

Lesson learned. A subsequent test flight the next day reassured me that despite its misadventure the drone still works properly. But Alice still gleefully imagines what concessions she might extract from me had it been destroyed and I wanted to replace it.

 

Categories: US Mainland | Tags: , , , , , | 4 Comments

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