Posts Tagged ‘Half Island Cove’

Tanker on Chedabucto Bay, Half Island Cove

One of the most difficult things I phaced, oops, faced last Saturday when I spent the afternoon out driving around was being content with where I was. The theory of being present and the practice of it can have some serious divergences.

Old House, Peas Brook

As you can see in most of the shots it was a cloudy day and what often happens on days like this in winter is the clouds eventually grow heavier and heavier until they blot the sky out completely. Early on in the afternoon I wasn’t especially pleased with the scenes I was finding. Internal pressure mounted quickly as the little voice in my head insistently criticized me. It reminded me over and over that the quality of the sky and light would soon disappear. Versions of the grass being greener (whiter) elsewhere played like a jukebox.

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Half Island Cove (very lightly applied bleach bypass)

So, yet again, I abandoned my database chores without getting far: I made it to October. I came across some shots from Half Island Cove as I finished September and thought I could play with them for a little while then get back to the drudgery of entering keywords. I picked a few. Some had noticeable glow from HDR processing, others seemed too saturated or too dark or too something. When attempting to improve shots I go right back to the originally captured images, run them through the HDR software to generate 32-bit files which then get tonemapped, re-imported, stitched then adjusted before finally being exported and uploaded here.  (more…)

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Looking west toward Half Island Cove

Fogarty’s Cove appears to be about a mile, as the crow flies, from Half Island Cove. Well, I’m not a crow and I am here to tell you that getting there on foot from this direction ain’t no joy ride. In fact, getting there by foot is not even something I can yet confirm possible. All I can say is that I got closer this time than I did last time. Last time I thought I walked far enough to have come abreast of the place, that all I would need to do is angle downhill through a hundred meters of knotty spruce and I would be there. I wish. When I returned I found the scenic dead spruce with orange flagging without any trouble then continued on until I intersected a survey line. At this point I was thinking I had gone so far that I would have to double back once I followed the survey markers to the shore.


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