I wake up to a harbour view. It’s stark, it’s industrial, it’s pretty in its snowy cloak.
Time to head for breakfast, then layer up in order to brave the elements to get that perfect crane photo. Or get distracted by the scenery. The cranes seem to attract photographers with big lenses.
The line up at the fence to shoot the cranes is reminiscent of a media scrum at a sports event. It would be amusing if I wasn’t tripping over their tripods.
I, on the other hand, prefer the ability to be mobile, lens and camera in hand.
The nature documentaries have a lot to answer for with regards to the activities of the birds. You do not get 10 minutes of action every half hour. If you are lucky and not frozen, you may have 5 minutes every hour. In a flock. At the far side of the flock.
Oh, and there are Whooper Swans and White Tailed Eagles and Crows and…
Several hours later you might have a picture that at the very least it’s a memory. If you are lucky it is actually good. Then later somebody will tell you that you must have a good camera. The fact that you froze your digits and other parts off does not count. It’s the camera?
Then there is tonight’s dinner, where you are glad to have enough fingers left to use chopsticks. A little hole in the wall barely big enough to hold a dozen people. It is presided over by the sushi master who spent 10 years perfecting his craft. His daughter helps at the front of house.
The rice of the nigiri is perfect, as are the toppings of salmon, mackerel, beef, scallops, prawns, uni and more.
The atmosphere is jovial. The beer cold. Perfect.
