Category: Landscape Photography

The Opening of the Film Archives – Chaussée des Moines, Autumn 2016

Posted on Posted in Black and White Photography, Film Photography, France, Landscape Photography, Nantes Photography, The Film ArchivesTagged , , , , 4 Comments

It was one of those sunny late autumn days we sometimes get here—warm, golden, and untouched by the inevitable rain, wind, and cold that would soon claim the season. This time, I wasn’t in Nantes, or exploring the Forest of Grasla like last week’s outing. Instead, I decided to take my Canon AE-1 for a walk down by the river—more precisely, along the Sèvre Nantaise—to explore the Chaussée des Moines.

Chaussée des Moines translates to “the monk’s pathway,” and no, it’s not a detour through Iowa. I always get the name wrong, thanks to the cheese Chaussée aux Moines. Freud would probably call it a slip—though even he might have struggled to find better footing on this trail.

The pathway, bathed in the low autumn sun, was serene. Its golden light skimmed the water, creating shimmering reflections on the surface, while the riverbanks glowed with the last stubborn hues of the season. For those of you looking at the photos in black and white, you’ll just have to imagine the colours. The Canon AE-1 was a faithful companion that day, helping me focus on the interplay of light and shadow, the quiet stillness of the river, and the textured beauty of autumn’s final stand.

The Sèvre Nantaise is a river that flows into Nantes at the Bras de Pirmil. The Chaussée itself is a weir—a place where, weather permitting, you can walk across the river, loop over a nearby bridge, and return along the opposite bank. It’s a lovely little circuit, especially on a crisp autumn day.

The photographs from this outing were taken with the Canon AE-1 using Ilford HP5+ film, shot at 400ASA. I later edited the images in Lightroom to bridge that gap between film and digital. Some might call me a charlatan, but even in the darkroom, we worked our magic with tools akin to what Lightroom offers today—just a bit more hands-on and aromatic.

When I was learning how to draw, I was often reminded of the importance of contrast: darker, more defined elements in the foreground and softer, lighter tones in the background. Looking back at these photos, especially the ones of trees and fields, I’m struck by how naturally this principle seems to have played out.

All in all, it was lovely being out in the autumn sun, soaking up the scenery, and enjoying every minute of it. The boat moored along the bank, the cascading weir, the solitary man fishing—it all added to the charm of a wonderful afternoon. And if you’re wondering, the slice of cake and cup of something nice at the café overlooking the river had absolutely nothing to do with how fondly I remember the day… or so I tell myself.

Browse the full Film Archives →

The Opening of the Film Archives—Abbaye de la Grainetière, October 2016

Posted on Posted in Architecture, Black and White Photography, Catholic, Film Photography, France, History, Landscape Photography, Reportage, The Film ArchivesTagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , 6 Comments

“They” say that if you leave your child to the Jesuits for seven years, then that child will belong to the Jesuits for life. I am not a Jesuit, but I was heavily influenced by the Benedictines when I went away to prep school in 1980. Mummy, Daddy, let me reassure you, this isn’t about Gilling—some things are better left in the past. This article will instead focus on a different Benedictine site, one that I visited much later in life: l’Abbaye de la Grainetière, a peaceful monastery here in the Vendée.

The Abbey of Notre-Dame de La Grainetière, on the outskirts of the town of Les Herbiers in Vendée (France), encompasses nearly nine centuries of tumultuous history. For over 50 years, numerous restoration works have been undertaken. These efforts allowed for the re-establishment of a community of monks at the end of 1978, nearly 200 years after the abbey was abandoned by the monks, shortly after the Revolution of 1789. Classified as a historical monument since 1946, many volunteers are working to continue the legacy of La Grainetière.

To those of you unfamiliar with the ins and outs of the Catholic Church, the role of monks is to live in community, and their main duty is to pray for us in the wider community. The monks elect a Father Abbot, who is responsible for running the monastery. In centuries gone by, the Abbot would wield a huge amount of influence, but this power has been reined in over time and is less evident outside the monastic community.

When I visited l’Abbaye de la Grainetière, I couldn’t help but reflect on how different this Benedictine monastery felt from my school days. The quiet prayer, the stillness—it offered a kind of peace that I hadn’t experienced for a long time, and a life that was once very appealing to me.

The monks follow the Rule of Saint Benedict, a foundational guide for monastic life that addresses not only prayer, but also how to live both within and beyond the monastery walls. Though written for monks, many of its teachings have been adopted by the laity seeking a structured, spiritually focused life.

I could almost say I envy them the simplicity of monastic life compared to the complexities of modern society and family life—juggling careers, responsibilities, and the endless distractions of today’s world. While I don’t regret the joys and vibrancy that come with having a family—something perhaps lacking in monastic life—it’s hard not to admire the stillness and purpose that a simpler existence can offer. We all have different vocations in life. Mine was to be a father.

As I packed away my camera and left the grounds of l’Abbaye de la Grainetière, I found myself still pondering the contrast between the quiet, ordered life of the monks and the complexity of my own. In some ways, visiting the abbey felt like opening a door to a simpler time, a place where life seemed more focused and more deliberate. Yet, as much as I admire the peace found within those ancient walls, my own path has led me elsewhere—to the joys, challenges, and unpredictability of family life.

In the end, it’s not a question of envy or regret, but rather a reminder that we all find our peace in different ways. For the monks of l’Abbaye de la Grainetière, it lies in prayer and solitude. For me, it’s found in the laughter of my children, the shared moments with loved ones, and yes, even in the rush and noise of everyday life. Each vocation, after all, carries its own kind of grace.

Perhaps that’s what lingers with me most from my visit to the abbey—not just the tranquillity of the place, but the realisation that we each have our own rhythm, our own way of navigating the world, and there is beauty in all of it.

Post Scriptum:

The photos were taken with a Canon AE1, and its FD mount 50mm F1.8 lens, using Ilford HP5 + black and white film.

Classic Chrome Meets Portra 160: Evaluating the Pentax ME Super and Fujifilm X100F

Posted on Posted in Black and White Photography, Film Photography, Landscape Photography, Northumberland, Travel photography, United KingdomTagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , 3 Comments

Let’s talk about two of my favorite cameras—the Fujifilm X100F and the Pentax ME Super. While these cameras belong to entirely different eras of photography, they share a surprising similarity in size and portability. I’ve used both extensively, and today, I want to compare their unique qualities without turning it into a clichéd “film vs. digital” debate.

Photography enthusiasts often find themselves in one of two camps: those who champion the convenience and immediacy of digital, and the purists who swear by the timelessness of film. But if you’ve followed this blog for a while, you’ll know I don’t see things that way. Instead, I value what each format brings to the table, and more importantly, how both contribute to the experience of photography.

A Tale of Two Cameras

For me, photography is more than just the final image—it’s about the journey of capturing it. Any Lomography fan will agree: the process is as important as the outcome. When I shoot with the Fujifilm X100F, I appreciate the immediate feedback of seeing the image on the screen and knowing right away what I’ve captured. But with the Pentax ME Super, it’s a different experience. I have a rough idea of what the film will deliver, but the magic isn’t fully revealed until the film is developed. That anticipation is part of the charm.

For this comparison, I’ve chosen photographs from Northumberland. Its moody, windswept landscapes—places like Alnmouth and the Northumbrian moors—present the perfect canvas for both film and digital. The X100F’s Classic Chrome simulation delivers a retro, muted look, while Kodak Portra 160 film, shot through the Pentax, brings warmth and richness to the tones.

The Fujifilm X100F

he X100F has often been called a bridge between the analogue and digital worlds, and I tend to agree. It’s packed with modern features like autofocus and an electronic viewfinder (EVF), but the controls are refreshingly tactile, with dedicated dials for aperture, shutter speed, and ISO. For anyone with a background in film photography, this setup feels familiar and intuitive.

What sets the X100F apart for me, though, is its Classic Chrome film simulation. It offers a subdued color palette that echoes old film stock, perfect when I want a slightly desaturated, vintage aesthetic. Unlike some over-the-top digital filters, Classic Chrome feels organic and subtle—bringing out details in the shadows without overwhelming the shot with contrast.

The X100F Photos

The Pentax ME Super

On the other hand, the Pentax ME Super is all about slowing down. There’s no EVF, no digital screen, and definitely no autofocus. Instead, you rely on a split-prism focusing system and aperture-priority mode. It forces you to be deliberate with each shot, a process that I find incredibly satisfying.

You’ll often hear film photographers talk about being more “in the moment” when shooting on film, and that’s exactly how I feel with the ME Super. The process of carefully composing each shot, setting exposure manually, and waiting for the film to be developed encourages patience and thoughtfulness.

For this outing, I paired the ME Super with Kodak Portra 160, a film that’s become known for its natural skin tones and soft, warm colors. Paired with the 50mm f/1.7 lens, this combination creates images with that unmistakable film character—shallow depth of field, soft highlights, and rich colors.

Lenses and Sensor Size

One of the most noticeable technical differences between these two cameras is their lenses and sensor sizes. The X100F features a 35mm equivalent f/2.0 fixed lens, while I usually use the 50mm f/1.7 on the Pentax. On the sensor front, the X100F has an APS-C crop sensor, giving it a narrower field of view compared to the full-frame 35mm film in the Pentax.

This technical difference goes beyond field of view. The Pentax ME Super has fixed ISO based on the film I choose, so I need to plan ahead for the lighting conditions I’ll be working in. In contrast, the X100F allows me to adjust ISO on the fly, providing flexibility in rapidly changing environments. This is something digital photographers have come to rely on, and it’s undeniably convenient when shooting in variable light.

The Pentax ME Super photos

Comparing the Images

Now, the big question: which is better, the Pentax ME Super or the Fujifilm X100F? Honestly, neither. They’re different tools for different purposes. Whether you’re drawn to the organic feel of film or the convenience of digital, both formats offer something unique. And that’s the beauty of photography—there’s no one-size-fits-all approach.

The sideshow feature shots from both cameras. As you look at them, you might favour one look over the other. The film shots have a warmth and texture that digital sometimes struggles to replicate, while the digital photos are sharp, detailed, and offer instant gratification. But ultimately, this comes down to personal preference, not a matter of one being objectively better.

Final Thoughts

At the end of the day, a camera is just a tool for capturing a scene in a particular way. As long as the final image is pleasing to the eye, I’d say the job is done. So don’t limit yourself to just one format—if you haven’t tried shooting film, give it a go. If you’re a film photographer who’s hesitant to try digital, maybe the X100F will ease that transition with its analogue-like feel.

More than anything, I encourage you to enjoy the process, whether it’s with film, digital, or both. Get out there, take your time, and remember that photography isn’t just about the images you capture—it’s about the experience.

If you’d like to go deeper on the Pentax ME Super specifically, I’ve written a full dedicated review: Why the Pentax ME Super Is the Perfect First Film Camera (Even in 2026).

Post Scriptum:
For those of you new to my blog, welcome! I cover everything from camera reviews to photography tips and techniques. Whether you’re a seasoned photographer or just starting out, there’s something here for you. Feel free to leave your thoughts or questions in the comments below—I’d love to hear from you!

Fujifilm X-T2 Review (2026): Still Worth Buying?

Posted on Posted in Bikes, Black and White Photography, Camera reviews, France, Landscape Photography, Nantes Photography, Paris, Street Photography, Travel photographyTagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , 9 Comments

The Fujifilm X-T2 is nearly 10 years old — but it’s still a capable, beautiful camera that holds its own against much newer options. Here’s an honest 2026 assessment from a photographer who’s used it alongside film cameras in everyday life, based in Nantes.

My Love Affair with the X100F (and a Cuppa Tea)

It’s no secret to the regular readers of IJM Photography that I have a great fondness, deep affection, nearing on obsession with my Fujifilm X100F. It’s a great little camera that gets me excited whenever I take it out of my camera bag. But, Dear Reader, what does this have to do with the Fujifilm X-T2? Well, they’re both manufactured by Fuji, they both have an “X” in their name, and I have a deep affection for a nice cup of tea. Not the same T? Ah well…

Similarities and Differences: A Tale of Two X’s

I’ll talk about the differences and similarities between the two cameras and why I thought the X-T2 was a useful and complementary acquisition. We’ll look at not just the specs but also the rather similar way both cameras handle.

  • Sensor and Image Quality: Both use the same 24-megapixel sensor with an anti-aliasing filter, and offer an ISO range from 200 to 128000.
  • Screen and Viewfinder: The X100F has a fixed screen, while the X-T2 boasts a tilting one. Both share the same excellent viewfinder.
  • Performance: The X100F shoots at 8 fps while the X-T2 goes up to 14 fps. For video, the X100F is limited to Full HD, while the X-T2 offers 4K and can shoot at 120 fps.
  • Connectivity: Both cameras have built-in wireless capabilities.
  • Weight: The X100F is lighter at 469g, while the X-T2 is slightly heavier at 507g.
The Lens Factor (and Weather Sealing, Too!)

The main difference? The lens. The X100F has a fixed 23mm (35mm equivalent) f/2.0 lens, while the X-T2 can take the entire range of X-mount lenses. Quite a big difference, indeed. The X-T2 also has the added bonus of weather sealing!

Why Buy a 4-Year-Old Camera in 2020?

Because at the time, I could. It was the logical acquisition and complement to my X100F. Did I mention it also uses the same batteries? I still have the same, beloved-by-many film simulations, and while not as numerous as later models, they are more than enough for me!

My first lens purchase was the 16mm (24mm equivalent) f/2.8 Fuji lens, the perfect complement to the 35mm equivalent on the X100F. I later discovered TTArtisan and 7 Artisans, Chinese firms that make affordable manual focus lenses for the X-mount. I now have the 35mm (50mm equivalent) f/1.2 and 58mm (85mm equivalent) f/1.4, and the fish eye 7mm F2.8 lenses from both companies, both costing a fraction of the autofocus Fuji lenses. The only concession I made to Fuji was later purchasing the 18-55mm (24-70mm equivalent) f/2.8 autofocus kit lens.

Value for Money: The X-T2’s Sweet Spot in 2024

The fact that I bought it second-hand was also a contributing factor. Does it have as many megapixels as the more modern X-T5? No. But does it have enough? Yes! Does it have the same specs as the X-T5? No. But does it have enough? Yes. Can you see a pattern developing here?

For the amount of money spent, I think I have enough cameras for my buck. And that is the crux of the argument for acquiring a now 8-year-old camera in 2024. Is it the very best money can buy? No. But if you’re an amateur like myself, you generally don’t need the specs that manufacturers and those nice men in camera shops will try to tell you you need. 24 megapixels is more than enough for printing even 20″ by 30″ (500mm x 760mm) sized images.

I have just looked at mpb.com for you and have found XT2 bodies from 487€ to 729€ depending on the condition. An X-mount lens will cost you anything from 104€ for a 35mm (50mm equivalent) F1.2 from 7 artisans to 279€ to 340€ for the 16mm (24mm equivalent) F2.8 fuji lens. So as you can see, it’s certainly cheaper than buying the latest models…

Conclusion: A Timeless Tool for the Passionate Photographer

In 2024, the Fujifilm X-T2 remains a compelling option for photographers seeking excellent image quality, classic handling, and a wealth of creative possibilities. Its compact size, weather sealing, and extensive lens selection make it a versatile companion for various genres, from street photography to landscapes.

While newer models may boast more advanced features, the X-T2’s enduring appeal lies in its combination of performance, affordability, and the unique charm of Fujifilm’s X-Trans sensor and film simulations. For photographers who prioritise the essentials of image-making and value for money, the X-T2 continues to be a worthy contender in the ever-evolving world of digital cameras.

If you’re looking for a camera that delivers exceptional results without breaking the bank, the used market might just hold the perfect X-T2 for you. And who knows, you might even discover a newfound appreciation for a slightly older camera that still has plenty to offer in 2024 and beyond.

café tables in the street
woman walking near bikes
dog
my daughter
People sitting down eating
tramlines in Nantes
Bike
Sergio
street lights in the Place Graslina
bar de quartier
street crossing in Nanates
building in Nantes
Art School in Nantes
the bird nest
the Île de Nantes
bikes
TGV in Paris Montparnasse
Winged Victory of Samothrace
Winged Victory of Samothrace
The Louvre
the Eiffel Tower
Fujifilm X-T2 mirrorless camera with interchangeable lens
Post Scriptum

This camera is also capable of 4K video. And I’m using it at work for making videos for training new staff. It is certainly lighter than my Canon 6D Mark II, and I seem to be able to obtain a picture style that I like. It doesn’t have in-built image stabilisation. However, I use it on a tripod so that’s not an issue. And if ever I do decide to use the 18-55mm kit lens, I have image stabilisation in the lens.

I’ll see if I can’t find you an excerpt of the latest video…

And here it is…

The UK Chronicles: A Black and White Footnote

Posted on Posted in Alnmouth, Black and White Photography, Landscape Photography, Northumberland, Photography Tutorials, The UK Chronicles, United KingdomTagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , 13 Comments

My usual approach to black and white photography is to shoot directly in black and white, either using black and white film or the Acros film simulation with my X100F. When using the X100F on this UK trip, my EVF displayed the black and white shot using Acros with a red filter—my go-to simulation. This method puts me in a black-and-white “frame of mind” from the outset.

However, this time I decided to break from my usual practice and experiment. I did something I normally advise against—starting with the intention to create color images and only considering black and white later. I chose the Classic Chrome film simulation instead of Acros, focusing on capturing the vibrant colors of the Northumbrian countryside. It was all about breaking free from my black-and-white routine. Both color and black-and-white photography have their place, but for this trip, I wanted to prioritize one over the other. Still, wouldn’t it be intriguing to compare both approaches?

Back in France, as I prepared the images for my black-and-white Instagram feed, I began to wonder if some of the colorful shots might also work in black and white. Initially hesitant—given my emphasis on shooting with intention and purpose—I decided to embrace the experiment. I was breaking one of my own rules, yet the idea intrigued me.

Reviewing the color shots, I considered which might translate well into black and white. I look for images with texture and varying tones rather than just color. My composition is usually solid since I’ve already edited my color images, including reframing and straightening as needed. With digital RAW files, converting to black and white and producing different versions is straightforward. As they say, the goal is to produce images that reflect how they made you feel, not just how you saw them. This is why I convert my images to black and white—they capture more of the emotional essence.

Opening Adobe Lightroom on my PC, I saw the familiar images on my screen. My editing approach may seem finicky, but it’s effective. While the simplest way to convert an image to black and white is to slide the “saturation” slider to the left, this often results in a flat, lifeless image. Instead, I use a more nuanced approach to control various color tones in the black-and-white image. This technique helps preserve depth and character, ensuring that each image maintains its visual impact even without color.

Here’s how I approach black-and-white conversion in Lightroom:

  • Black and White Profile: Sets the overall tone and mood of the image.
  • Clarity: Enhances texture and detail for a more dynamic appearance.
  • Contrast: Adjusts the range between light and dark areas, adding visual interest.
  • Color Sliders: Modifies the luminance of specific colors to bring out different tones in the black-and-white image.
  • Highlight Tool: Adds subtle vignetting and balances highlights for a polished finish.

So, why convert to black and white after shooting in color? For me, it offers a classic, timeless aesthetic, and challenges me to create a “better” image by focusing on composition and texture without the distraction of color. This approach pushes me to craft photographs that rely on fundamental elements, enhancing their overall impact.

Impact is at the heart of photography. While I cherish the colors of the Northumbrian countryside and am eager to learn how to use color more effectively, I also deeply value the strengths of black-and-white photography. It’s about transcending color to create images that resonate through composition and texture.

But there’s something more personal about these black-and-white conversions. Perhaps it’s because I broke my own rules this time around, allowing color to take center stage and letting the black-and-white images emerge later. These images weren’t planned with black and white in mind—yet, despite that, or perhaps because of it, they feel even more special to me. Sometimes, going against what you think you know leads to unexpected results. And, in this case, those results resonate even more deeply.

Isn’t impact what we strive for in our photography? Don’t get me wrong—I love the colors of the Northumbrian countryside and am on a quest to learn how to use color more effectively. But I do believe in the strength of the fundamentals offered by black-and-white photography. Sometimes, breaking your own routine brings surprising rewards.

Also in this series: Preface  ·  Lesbury  ·  Alnmouth  ·  Bamburgh  ·  Alnwick  ·  Rothbury  ·  Hepple  ·  Chesters  ·  Return  ·  B&W Footnote  ·  Summer I  ·  Summer II  ·  Summer III  ·  Summer IV

The UK Chronicles Part VIII: From Chesters, to Rothbury, to Lesbury

Posted on Posted in Landscape Photography, Northumberland, The UK Chronicles, Travel photography, United KingdomTagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , 8 Comments

Thank you for following this series of UK Chronicles, and I would just like to say that this is the last one. It had been a long day, but a good day, despite the disappointment in Otterburn. You overcome and adapt. Killian was still sad not to have some Roman armour though.

So, despite not rocking the Roman look, we still had to get back to Lesbury because that evening we would be eating with my parents in a pub in Boulmer, which was just down the road from Lesbury and on the coast. Boulmer is one of those little fishing villages that still has a small fleet of fishing boats that would have caught the fish and chips that we would be eating that night.

To get back home, I could take the more direct route, or I could go via the scenic route. Luckily for you, Dear Reader, we had enough time to take the scenic route. My driving was leisurely, or even slow, as we meandered through the bendy country roads. Again, just taking in the rural views and loving every minute of it. We wanted to go back to Rothbury to get another of those yummy sandwiches in the breadcakes that you only seem to be able to get in the UK.

We found the same parking spot as we did that very morning and crossed the road to go back to that morning’s bakery. It had just shut! Please don’t worry for us though; our lives still had some meaning. We visited the ironmongers that hadn’t yet opened that morning. It was one of those places that had everything that one could need, from bird feeders to butter dishes. Killian decided that I needed a new walking stick. He had seen me leaning with my old one, which, in his mind, was too small for me. I think he really had his eye on a shepherd’s crook, but we settled on a nice wooden walking stick that is just a tiny bit taller than my French ones, and it’s propped up against my desk as I write—a little reminder of home.

Killian suggested we walk to a particular shop and then return, now with my new walking stick in hand. Leisurely was definitely the word of the day and summed up our attitude to it so well. We strolled down to the RSPCA charity shop. I thought I might just be able to get Killian a jacket to help smarten him up a bit, but failed. Ah well. We walked past the toy shop, which you could tell was for rural folk. The amount of toy tractors and all the farming machinery was awe-inspiring. Somebody somewhere had obviously been frustrated as a child…

We passed the Queen’s Head pub, and surprise surprise, we went in. I ordered the drinks and the crisps, made sure Killian had a place to sit, and went to the loo. The bar was full of locals, I presume farmers, judging by the size and musculature of the men. It would appear that their Friday evening sesh was just beginning. There was a couple of walkers with their dog, and a water bowl had been provided, and the dog was enjoying some of the treats from the complimentary dog treat jar. While some find the Northumbrian accent incomprehensible, to me, it’s music to my ears. I get every word of it. Killian, although fully bilingual in English, was struggling, praying that nobody would come up to him and try talking to him. Poor lad. And that was despite a pint of creamy, silky John Smith’s Bitter!

We left Rothbury behind us, feeling as if all were good in this world. Leisurely and peaceful, which felt amazing. We would head back towards Alnwick and have another look at the scenery in a new light compared with that morning. I have taken this route a few times and in the valley have always noticed a castle, and this time I thought, you know what? I’m going to have a look at that place. We saw the sign to the village of Edlingham and its 14th-century castle and turned left. You park just in front of the church, and you can go and see the ruins. We went into the church and saw somebody taking photographs with an old film camera. This guy had a vintage Nikon, and it looked beautiful. As photographers will do, we started talking shop. We talked about the films we used and how my X100F, although not a film camera, was the nearest thing I had found to a film camera in its feel and use. The photographer mentioned that the castle ruins were propped up with large iron beams, which seemed to detract from their historical charm. So, we decided to skip the visit. We parted ways and left the church after having managed to capture a couple of photos. Killian came running back in to ask the guy if he had a Nissan. He did. Well, in that case, it was his car that had just smashed into the church gate. Killian lifted the damaged gate to put it against the wall, and the driver was convinced that he had put his handbrake on. The gentleman called the number on the church notice board to try and tell the vicar about what had happened, but there was no answer. We never did find out if the driver managed to reach the vicar, but it was an unexpected end to our day of exploration.

Also in this series: Preface  ·  Lesbury  ·  Alnmouth  ·  Bamburgh  ·  Alnwick  ·  Rothbury  ·  Hepple  ·  Chesters  ·  Return  ·  B&W Footnote  ·  Summer I  ·  Summer II  ·  Summer III  ·  Summer IV

The UK Chronicles Part VII: Chesters Roman Fort

Posted on Posted in Architecture, History, Landscape Photography, Northumberland, The UK Chronicles, Travel photography, United KingdomTagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , 10 Comments

Welcome, Dear Reader, to the very edge of the Roman Empire, and by implication, civilisation. You might be wondering why there’s a carving of a phallus as the cover photo for this article. Well, don’t forget that soldiers will be soldiers, even when they’re part of a Spanish Cavalry regiment stationed here. Some things never change—except these soldiers were caught by archaeologists centuries later!

Chesters Roman Fort was constructed along Hadrian’s Wall to keep out the “uncivilised” Picts and Scots. This impressive wall stretches across the country from East to West, ending at Wallsend in Tyneside. It was a massive undertaking, and I’m still amazed by this feat of engineering.

Killian, my dear son and heir, whom you might recall from the previous article about his misadventures at Otterburn, was slightly less impressed. “Ce n’est pas le Mur d’Hadrian, mais le muret d’Hadiran,” he quipped—translating to, “Not Hadrian’s wall, but Hadrian’s little tiny miniature wall.” Some people are just impossible to please!

Despite his initial skepticism, Killian was genuinely impressed by the quality of the stonemasonry, even after nearly 2,000 years. With his background in plumbing, he quickly noticed the Roman plumbing and underfloor heating, which makes you realise how little we’ve actually invented since then.

When we visited the cavalry lines and saw where the horses were kept, he was astonished to learn that three men and three horses lived in the same building, with the horses at one end and the soldiers at the other.

Even though he was flippant at the start of the visit, he took a keen interest in everything and enjoyed explaining each building to me. Maybe he’s a closet intellectual after all…

As we continued our tour, my knee was giving me trouble, and Killian showed his concern, asking if I really wanted to go down to the river to see where the bridge once stood. I insisted we go, so we made our way slowly towards the river and the soldiers’ baths. And by baths, I mean a fully-fledged hammam complete with sauna and dry heat—the very latest technology to provide the frontier soldiers with some home comforts. If those baths were still operational, they might have been perfect for soothing my arthritic knee!

We walked slowly towards the west gate and could only imagine the civilian buildings buried beneath the fields in front of us. This site wasn’t just a series of building outlines but a thriving Roman community on the very edge of civilisation.

Speaking of civilisation, I felt it might just be time for a cup of tea. As we strolled through the site towards the car, we spotted a tea shop. A cup of tea and a slice of cake were just what I needed—I was in heaven! Good old National Trust! No wonder they’re an institution. Our conversation shifted to the gift shop, where I was trying to convince Killian that, despite how cool owning a replica Roman helmet and armour might be, it could be a tad impractical and he might not have many occasions to wear such Roman regalia. Mind you he would be very dashing!

If you want to, you can even play a game of “Where’s Waldo” or “Where’s Wally,” for the British readers. Note I didn’t say “Where’s the Wally…” Keep an eye out for the photos of Killian…

Also in this series: Preface  ·  Lesbury  ·  Alnmouth  ·  Bamburgh  ·  Alnwick  ·  Rothbury  ·  Hepple  ·  Chesters  ·  Return  ·  B&W Footnote  ·  Summer I  ·  Summer II  ·  Summer III  ·  Summer IV

The UK Chronicles Part VI: Hepple to Otterburn

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Otterburn was the original destination of this little outing into the Northumbrian countryside. As a younger boy, I had been with Killian to the Mill in Otterburn that used to make beautiful rugs from the wool of the local sheep. That mill stopped producing them a few years ago, but Killian had this memory in his mind.

But we weren’t there yet… The drive from Hepple to Otterburn takes us through yet more landscape. We passed by Cragside, the first house in England to have electricity, powered by a waterfall. Green before green was no longer just a colour. We had visited the huge house when Killian was about 13 and hadn’t been back since. But this story isn’t about Cragside. Not this time. It wasn’t open as we drove by, so that was that.

As in the previous sections of our father-son drive, there were plenty of places to park along the side of the road to take in the scenery. And that we did. I remembered that time two years ago when I was there connecting with my father. And here I was, connecting with my son.

Otterburn means different things to different people. It is not just an area of outstanding natural beauty, but also a training area and live firing range for the Infantry of the British Army. I remember playing for an Officer’s mess night once when I used to wear green for a living. Although you can still wander around when the Infantry isn’t training, you’re constantly reminded not to touch any military debris—it might explode and help you become an integral part of the landscape.

The landscape shifted from the wild moorlands of Hepple to more farming country. Think sheep, hemmed in by century-old dry stone walls. Signs warned you to keep dogs on leads and informed you that any dog found attacking—or even just worrying—sheep would be shot on sight. A sobering thought. I jokingly warned Killian not to do the same, just in case.

At the top of the hill, I parked up and surveyed the patchwork landscape, scissored by those dry stone walls. Killian pushed on one and you could feel it giving way. I told the feckin’ eejit to stop right now. These walls were old and not to be messed with. His French side came out—he wasn’t impressed by this stalwart of the British countryside. I told him these walls had stood for years and it wasn’t going to be a bloody Frenchman that was going to change that.

But this story is about Otterburn. I’d warned Killian that Otterburn wasn’t as he remembered. He had this dream of buying a rug, but I wasn’t even sure they still sold them. My latest recollection of the place was that it had become more of a “country style retail outlet.” The signs still said the rugs were made in the UK, but the magic was gone.

It was the low point of the day. Killian stood there, staring at the overpriced rugs, his expression shifting from excitement to quiet disappointment. “This wasn’t how I remembered it,” he muttered. I could see the years of imagined nostalgia fading in real-time. We looked at what was on offer, checked the prices, and it just wasn’t worth it. The small café had a sort of mini-museum feel, but all we bought was a double espresso, a sausage roll, and a small cake. Killian ate; I didn’t touch it.

As we sat there, the conversation drifted to how Killian could see himself living in the area. I had to let him down gently. “We’re on holiday, son. Living here isn’t the same.” I knew what I was talking about, especially after living in France for over thirty years. The economic decline in the area was as stark as the difference between summer and winter in Northumberland. Both beautiful in their own way, but I know I have a penchant for summers. Winters are dark, rainy, snowy, cold, and thoroughly depressing. Beautiful—but still depressing.

It was all such an anti-climax. This had been one of the places Killian had been dreaming about for years.

I was at a loss for what to do. Then, out of nowhere, I had one of those genius ideas we only dream about. I wanted the day to end on a high note. “You know, son, we’re not too far from Hadrian’s Wall. Do you fancy it?”

His eyes lit up. He did fancy it, so off we went, a certain spring in our step.

Also in this series: Preface  ·  Lesbury  ·  Alnmouth  ·  Bamburgh  ·  Alnwick  ·  Rothbury  ·  Hepple  ·  Chesters  ·  Return  ·  B&W Footnote  ·  Summer I  ·  Summer II  ·  Summer III  ·  Summer IV

The UK Chronicles, Part V: Rothbury to Hepple

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Do you have a place, be it real or imaginary, that just haunts your mind?  You think of it, and you are transported there instantly.  The smells of the grass, the sounds of the river, and the odd car driving past you wondering what the heck you are doing?  Hepple is my special place.  It is a place where I feel at peace and that all is right with the world.

I’m thinking back to an article I wrote a couple of years ago called Hepple for Photos, Not Gin. I was with my father and had my Canon 6D Mark II with the 16-35mm F4.0 lens and the 70-300mm zoom lens. This year, however, I had my X100F with just the 35mm f2.0 equivalent lens, and I was with Killian, who, surprisingly, was a little tired and decided to curl up on the back seat for a snooze. His loss…

This is the place, this stretch of road, that I have been looking forward to for 2 years. The weather was clement, and I can assure you that the place is still as beautiful as ever. I wasn’t going to have the choice of lenses this time; I would have to see the scene in 35mm and make do with it. No zooming, no switching lenses—just a little constraint. And you know what? I was fine with that!

The lack of zooming and my sleeping son allowed me to walk around the area a little more, exploring under the tree at the end of the road and at the bottom of the hill.  These were views that I had not seen before.  It only goes to show that we might think we know a place, even in our memories, but it still has so much more to offer us.

I parked just before the bridge, as I usually do. Everything was still in place: the stiles, the trees, the river—just as I had pictured it in my mind. It’s when looking at the countryside like this that I am convinced there is a creator behind all this creation. The beauty of it didn’t just happen by chance.

The noises were made by the flowing of the river and the breeze in the trees.  I had this feeling of calm.  I could take photos of that place every day and not get tired of it all.  I might even go so far as to say I could have died here and died a happy death.  I had found my peace.

Killian had found his peace too and was still asleep in the car.  A micro sieste, he said.  He might be 25, but he reminded me of the small boy who was once my son. 

I can’t be the only person on this earth to feel this?

Also in this series: Preface  ·  Lesbury  ·  Alnmouth  ·  Bamburgh  ·  Alnwick  ·  Rothbury  ·  Hepple  ·  Chesters  ·  Return  ·  B&W Footnote  ·  Summer I  ·  Summer II  ·  Summer III  ·  Summer IV

The Opening of the Film Archives—Le Château des Ducs de Bretagne, August 2016

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Welcome back to the Film Archive of IJM Photography! This time, we find ourselves in the beautiful city of Nantes, in the heart of the Cité des Ducs. Our adventure takes us through the majestic Château des Ducs de Bretagne, a site rich in history and culture.

As we explore the castle, I’m armed with another one of my favorite cameras from the golden days of film photography—the Canon AE1. This was before the surge of interest from the YouTube hipster crowd, who quickly snatched up every classic camera they could find, driving up prices and making these gems harder to come by.

The Canon AE1 is justifiably sought after, and for good reason. It’s a camera that offers both simplicity and elegance, paired with the beautiful FD 50mm F1.8 lens. This lens, in particular, has a way of capturing light that enhances every shot, allowing me, the photographer, to create images that feel alive. You can see the results in the photos here—every frame is a testament to the quality and craftsmanship of this camera.

It feels solid in the hand, and focusing with the split prism is a breeze. The camera is “shutter priority,” and it adapts the f-stop to the speed at which you’re shooting. As a street photographer, I don’t need to shoot at 1/1000th of a second for all my shots, so I have a wider range of options than someone taking pictures of sports. It still provides me with the necessary depth of field.

On this particular day, I was motivated and thought I could walk up the steps to the battlements to get some more interesting shots from a raised standpoint. I captured the urban landscape that spans from the 13th to the 21st century, and in one of the shots, you can see the ever-present figure of the Tour de Bretagne. It once represented the modernity of the 20th century and is now closed for asbestos removal. My feet, however, were firmly rooted much earlier in the castle.

Exploring the Château des Ducs de Bretagne with the Canon AE1 was a journey through both time and photography. The castle’s ancient walls and rich history provided a stunning backdrop for capturing moments that feel timeless. With every click of the shutter, I was reminded of the magic of film photography—the anticipation, the artistry, and the satisfaction of seeing the world through a vintage lens. As I descended from the battlements, I couldn’t help but feel grateful for the simple joy of capturing life on film, in a place where history and modernity blend seamlessly. Until next time, keep exploring and shooting. There’s always more to discover.

The UK Chronicles, Part IV: Alnwick to Rothbury

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The Scenic Drive: A Journey Through the Northumberland Moors

The road from Alnwick to Rothbury takes you over the Northumberland moors and through steep valleys, giving you real taste of the British countryside.  It is not only magnificent in the early morning light, but it has this way of taking your breath away at each bend in the road.

You might just have gathered by now that I was in the UK this summer, visiting my Parents in Northumberland.  You may also have gathered that I wasn’t having the best of sleeps and was thus up a little earlier than most.  You may also have gathered that I decided to go light on photography equipment this trip compared to last year, only taking my X100F with me to take photos.  You may also have gathered that this trip was not just about photography but spending some quality time with the children, especially my son, who hadn’t been to the UK for a while.  You may also have gathered that my son joined me on a couple of these photography jaunts. Right!  I think we may have set the scene.

Photography on the Go: Minimalist Gear and Techniques

We were both in the car by 6am, having breakfasted and taken our collagen in yorkshire tea to make it at least a little palatable.  This is an epic drive that I try to do at least once when I’m over.  When you see the photographs, you’ll understand why.  Like Bamburgh, I had to meter for the highlights knowing that I would be able to get back details in the shadows back home in Lightroom.  The 35mm F2.0 equivalent lens of the X100F was fine to capture enough of the scene, and if I wanted to zoom, then it would mean zooming with my feet. 

Capturing the Landscape: Heather in Bloom and Morning Light

Fortunately, there are plenty of places to stop by the side of the road on this route, which is a good job because at each turn everything changes.  The sun was coming up on our left and filling the valley with light, and the top of the hill cast a shadow that I would have to compensate for later.

The road continues with views of the heather, which was in bloom and the pink added a wonderful contrast to the warm colours of the morning reflected on the landscape.  It certainly felt a real privilege to be there and take it all in.  We passed Cragside but decided to continue on to Rothbury.

A Taste of Rothbury: Discovering the Local Flavours

We managed to find a space to park in Rothbury, and out of the corner of our eye, we saw a bakery.  An English bakery, but a proper bakery.  No pain au chocolat or croissants, but sausage rolls, meat pies, even a haggis pie.  We settled on sandwiches in proper bread cakes and millionaire’s shortbread as a sweet treat.  Next, we just had to find a bench to sit on and eat our picnic.  There’s just something about eating a sandwich in an English village in the sun.   I daren’t imagine what the winters are like!  Possibly a bit nippy…

Looking Ahead: Plans for Otterburn and Beyond

But there we sat, the two of us, munching away, deciding to go to Otterburn for more photos and possibly a rug, but that, Dear Reader, is a story for another day…

Also in this series: Preface  ·  Lesbury  ·  Alnmouth  ·  Bamburgh  ·  Alnwick  ·  Rothbury  ·  Hepple  ·  Chesters  ·  Return  ·  B&W Footnote  ·  Summer I  ·  Summer II  ·  Summer III  ·  Summer IV

The Opening of the Film Archives – Noirmoutier September 2016

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Welcome back, dear reader, to another delve into the Film Archive from before this wonderful blog that I know you enjoy reading so much. I appreciate being able to share these photos with you in the hope that they may not only please you but also offer insight into an older form of photography, one where concerns about overheating or battery life were minimal. I want to demonstrate how it is still possible to achieve great results with any camera and that the main quality in your photography comes from you, the photographer.

Earlier this year, I was there with my Canon 6D Mark II, but today, we’re revisiting my visit from September 2016. At that time, I didn’t have my Canon, but I did have the Olympus Trip 35 with HP5 Plus film from Ilford. I used that camera quite a lot that summer and continued to use it in September. I might just have to dig it out of my camera cupboard and use it again. Constraints and minimal kit often lead to more creative decisions—just think back to my UK trip, where I only had my X100F with me.

Let’s start with the camera. It’s a small but gorgeous camera designed for the mass market in the 1960s and was still being produced in the 1980s, which attests to its appeal among casual photographers. With relatively few controls, it’s pretty foolproof. I can adjust the film ASA setting, and the selenium cell housed with the lens takes care of the rest, whether it’s aperture or shutter speed. The famous red flag appears in the viewfinder when the camera senses insufficient light. All I need to do is set the focus zone.

I must have bought mine around 2015 or 2016, and it was quite affordable at the time—no more than 50€. It was an iconic camera then and still is today, but as the supply of these cameras dwindles, prices have increased. You can now expect to pay 100€ or more, with some models even reaching nearly 200€. It remains a great camera but might be a victim of its own success, along with sellers’ optimism and greed. Buyer beware—shop around, and you might still find more accessible prices.

As for film, prices have also risen, especially for Kodak film, but Ilford remains affordable, as do Kentmere, Fomapan, and Rollei.

I’ve travelled the same road numerous times, and it always brings me a certain sense of peace. I tend to stop off at familiar spots along the way, and those of you with an eagle eye will recognise some of these locations from other photos in this blog.

But why go to Noirmoutier? Firstly, why not? It’s just over an hour’s drive from my home and is a popular destination for many locals from the Vendée. The island now suffers from overtourism, which has certainly changed its character since 2016. Efforts have been made to manage the flow of tourists, with improvements such as parking, pedestrian zones, clearly marked hiking trails, and numerous bike lanes. It’s a beautiful part of the world, so typical of the Vendée Coast with its pinède and long beaches. However, not everything is about tourism. The island is also renowned for its salted butter made with salt from local salt marshes and the famous potatoes from Noirmoutier. Additionally, there’s a small fishing fleet, as well as the fleet from Le Port du Bec in the neighbouring Beauvoir-sur-Mer.