MY Excellence V

MY Excellence V arriving yesterday to Funchal, for a routine call:

As soon as the global financial crisis reaches its end, I'll buy myself one of these. With my seafaring savings. Honest-to-God. She's already ordered.

Pictures made with Panasonic DMC-FT3 digital compact camera and post-processing in Adobe Lightroom and Adobe Photoshop CS3.

Pico do Areeiro and the Milky Way

Yesterday I spent the night in the mountains. A few snacks for the way, a thermos with hot tea, a camping mattress and a Summer sleeping bag and the absolutely needed photo equipment were the items for another astrophotography attempt.

Still much to learn, tho. Photographing the night sky is not easy. And although I've tried my best... my best was not good enough. First the landscape itself. Madeira is not the best place for pictures of the night sky. Plenty of human lights everywhere. See the yellow-orange glow above the peaks? It's the city of Funchal litting the night. This man-made light effect can, sometimes, be counteracted by a low cloud cover, who can work as a diffuser. However past night was clear as crystal.

Second... the equipment. We are always limited to small shutter speeds. A max. of 30 seconds. However, a max. of 20 seconds is advisable. And that's with a wide angle. Use a normal or a telephoto lens and you have to dramatically reduce those times. Otherwise, you'll have star trails instead of dots. And the sky will be blurred. To avoid that, you'll need also the fastest lenses (between f/1.4 and f/2.0) and/or high ISO's. And we all know how difficult is to focus a lens with an f/1.4 aperture. Try that at midnight, in a dark landscape and with a dark viewfinder, to make things easier. Also, with the high ISO's comes the noise. All in all, a receipt for disaster. Or maybe I'm just not a good enough photographer for the task.

Could I've made a better photo? Eventually. Technically speaking, and with some thousand Euros more, a Nikkor 24mm f/1.4 (sharp even wide open) and a full-frame format body (D700, D3, D800 or D4), with it's remarkable behaviour in very high ISO's, would have made a clear difference. A different framing could have helped also. But that is a very different discussion.

The Pico do Areeiro (and it's Radar station) and the Milky Way seen from the Achada do Teixeira-Pico Ruívo trail, yesterday, around midnight.

Picture taken with Nikon D300 and Sigma 24mm EX f/1.8.

Manfrotto tripod and Junior geared head.

Exposure details: 15 secs at f/2.8, ISO 3200, Auto WB.

Post-processing in Adobe Photoshop Lightroom and Adobe Photoshop CS3.

The Levada Nova da Ponta do Sol

The Levada Nova, in Ponta do Sol, is one of the rare round hikes in Madeira. In fact, with most of the levada walks, you start at the end and you go upstream until you reach it's source (in Portuguese the "madre", meaning "mother"). Regardless of the fact that these walks are generally beautiful, as soon as you reach it's end, you have to return all the way back through the same route.

That doesn't happen in Levada Nova. You begin your hike in the village of Lombada da Ponta do Sol, where you park your car near the town's church. From there, you will walk uphill for about five hundred meters (and ascending a couple of hundred), along the village, though a well signalized route. At the end of a small alley you'll reach the Levada Nova.

From there, you'll have a relaxed two hour's walk along the levada 'till the beginning of it, right in the heart of Ribeira da Ponta do Sol valley.

Upon reaching the Levada Nova's "madre", you'll walk a few hundred metres downstream, along the Ribeira da Ponta do Sol bed, until you notice, on your left, another levada, on a lower level than the previous one you've just hiked.

This one, the Levada do Moinho, will bring you to your starting point, right near the Lombada da Ponta do Sol church, two hours and some dozens of blackberries later.

The Levada Nova da Ponta do Sol is presently subjected to an intense repair work, including also the protection of the vertiginous places with handrails.

Although in some places the levada is quite exposed and vertiginous, the quality of the construction and repair works made makes it quite secure for walkers, as you can judge by the perfect cement path along the water channel. In the near future, with the last handrails in place, this levada will become one of the most enjoyable and safest walks in Madeira.

Contrasting with the present peaceful days, the past human attempts to control the waters in Madeira were not always sunshine and roses. The History of this massive engineering feat is filled with minor and bigger dramas that crossed thru generations. About halfway along the Levada Nova, we noticed this small shrine. A talk with a passing "levadeiro" (the public servant responsible for the levadas maintenance and repair) unveiled the mystery. It was an homage to a lady that fell to her death in that exact same place, in the early eighties. The circumstances of her death are, to the present day, not quite clear. Some say it was a distraction and a fall. Pure and simple. Some claim that the fall was preceded by a strong discussion with others and related with the rights to the water. Peace to her soul.

After a one hundred and fifty meter tunnel we reach the most lovely spot of the hike. A deep canyon...

... and the usual waterfall.

The way back, along the Levada do Moinho, is punctuated by wild fruits of all kinds. So, if you happen to forget your daily snacks at home... no worries. We've seen figs, prunes, apples and the ever present and delicious blackberries (pictured) along the way. At least during Summer time, our food problems are solved.

Thus ends the Levada do Moinho, close to the Lombada da Ponta do Sol church. With a small and luxurious garden watered by an aqueduct.

Pictures taken with Panasonic Lumix DMC-GH2 and Panasonic Lumix 14-42mm kit lens.

Post-processing in Adobe Photoshop Lightroom and Adobe Photoshop CS3.

Ponta do Pargo lighthouse at dusk

Lighthouses are as old as seafaring. And although, nowadays, the evolution of the electronic methods of navigation is exponential and makes us think that the act of positioning a ship on a nautical chart is as easy as child's play, nothing will ever compare to the human ability of trusting in our own instincts and in our most primitive senses.

In a certain way, seeing is believing. And in the maritime world few things are truer than this Saint Thomas's idiom.

Several times at sea I questioned myself about the fiability of a GPS fix. So much things can happen with an electronic system, either at sea or in the space above us.

On the other hand, there will never, ever, be a question about a lighthouse information to the surrounding navigation. It's there, clearly identified, gives you a bearing, one that you can trust, and lights the darkness around you.

To all the lighthouse keepers around the world: thanks for your long lasting aid to the maritime community worldwide. Keep up the good work. Godspeed.

The Ponta do Pargo lighthouse, in the Westernmost point of Madeira island, at dusk.

Picture made with Nikon F100 and Nikkor 28-105 AF-D kit lens.

Manfrotto tripod and ball head.

Fujichrome Velvia ASA 50 scanned in Nikon Coolscan V ED and post-processed in Adobe Lightroom and Adobe Photoshop CS3.

North Sea trade

The North Sea trade is, for us, mariners, in many aspects, the Foreign Legion of a seafaring career.

Inclement weather, unpredictable even in Summer, short port calls, insanely intense traffic, uncomfortably shallow waters (although well charted), commercial pressure, reduced rest and hard work and... a bureaucratic hell, with endless reports and paperwork.

Nevertheless we seamen have short memories and, most of the times, we tend to forget the bad moments. We leave easily behind the storms, the struggle for our lives and the (comparatively) underpaid hard work.

So, when I remember the North Sea my mind navigates to the midnight sun above the polar circle, in the Summer days of the Norwegian and Icelandic fjords, to the oil rig burners that lit the night and turned it almost into day along the British and Dutch coasts, or to the many wonderful people I've met in my maritime expeditions.
Do I really miss it? You bet!

The Motor/Tanker NCC Tiahmah (IMO nº 7384871), under tug escort, enters the Berendrecht lock, in the port of Antwerp, on a very typical grey North Sea morning.The Berendrecht lock (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Berendrecht_Lock) is presently the largest in the world, with 500 metres long and almost sixty meters wide. Depending on their size, it can accommodate several ships at once and allows them to access the port of Antwerp interior basin, where the vessels can be alongside free from the natural tidal movements.

Picture taken with Nikon FM3A and Nikkor 28-105 AF-D kit lens.

Fujichrome Velvia ASA 50 scanned on Nikon Coolscan V ED. Post-processed in Adobe Photoshop CS3.

Chatham docks; one early Winter morning

Several years ago, while still navigating as a professional mariner, I made a couple of seasons on the North Sea, doing a little bit of tramp cabotage here and there. Although I don't miss it so much (nautically speaking), since that particular trade is becoming harder and harder on seafarers, it was always with pleasure that I called the English ports.

England, for the moment, still manages to keep herself as a nation of mariners. And we can see that in every coastal town. Historic vessels are recovered and dry docked for posterity. For the future generations to see. Maritime History is, itself, cherished and preserved. All that heritage is kept alive and present in everybody's hearts. Perhaps, some of the times, with a little bit of excess. Like if they are the maritime nation of the world, instead of just one more. But who can blame them? It's their History. I'm glad that they defend it.

Not so with the country where I'm coming from. We are on the exact opposite of the scale. We don't cherish our maritime traditions at all. We were the first ones departing to the Age of Discoveries. Actually, we invented the all concept. And when the others started to wake up for that new world and vision we, basically, have already discovered pretty much everything.

And then, one day, we turned our backs to the sea. And this country was forever never the same. To this day nothing happened to change that. And while our politicians only remember our maritime heritage on their empty speeches, the only true connection of Portugal to the sea remains within the dominant and elitistic social class that rule our common destiny and their sailing yachts and "wine bottle" regattas.

For the rest of us, the plebs, the Portuguese maritime History is basically written words in the school manuals. Fading through time.

Not so for the Brits. For them the sea and all connected with it is a matter of national pride. A nation's design. To be shared among all. But you would have to visit England's coastal cities to truly understand what I mean.

The Chatham docks, near the river Thames estuary, in a very British and melancholic Winter morning. Once a important naval dock, Chatham is now a port facility mainly divided in two areas: a historical one, comprising the former naval docks and buildings and also with several historic vessels to be visited and the commercial docks, where we stayed alongside for a few days, while waiting for clearance to load a bulk cargo in a terminal up the river.

Picture made with Nikon FM3A and Nikkor 28-105 AF-D kit lens.

Fujichrome Velvia ASA 50 scanned in Nikon Coolscan V ED and post-processed in Adobe Photoshop CS3.

Cabo Girão

Cabo Girão, one of the highest promontories in Europe, is bathed by the late evening sunlight, in a picture taken from Câmara de Lobos.

With a height of almost six hundred meters above sea level, the cliff's face falls almost vertically on the ocean below.

Picture taken with Nikon F100 and Sigma EX 70-200 f/1:2.8D APO HSM (uuufff!) lens.

Manfrotto tripod and ball head.

Kodak Ektachrome E100VS scanned in Nikon Coolscan V ED.

Post-processing and resizing in Adobe Photoshop CS3.