Granny Buttons

Explaining rainbows

Headed down the BCN main line to the Black Country Boat Festival last weekend, I was delighted to catch a really vivid rainbow in the few minutes during (and after) a brief shower in between bright spells.  You don't 'chase' rainbows; they follow you. And what you see is mainly luck. 

But more significantly, this time, the occasionally-seen 'second rainbow' was visible, something which I've never managed to catch on camera before.

You can see spots of rain in the picture, caught by the camera's flash.

I also photographed the complete arc, using several pictures from right to left, and could in theory 'stitch' these together for a panorama, except they wouldn't produce an interesting image. The scene on the left wasn't all that interesting. 

There's no technical mystery about the rainbow, especially with the Wikipedia entry on rainbows to hand. 

But I prefer the less scientific, more prosaic, explanation in 'Rainbows for the artist', on Don Jusko's 'Real Color Wheel' site:

Your head is always in between the sun and the center of a rainbow circle, the sun is at your back. 

A normal rainbow has a lighter area of sky under it. White is the reflected color under the rainbow.  Dark, or no added reflected light is over the top of the rainbow, over the red. Yellow light is in the middle of a rainbow. 

A warm magenta is barely visible on top of the red on a strong rainbow, it's stronger at the cool bottom of the rainbow.  Also, yellow will appear again under the magenta on a strong rainbow.

If you make your own rainbow, with a small spray of water, you don't see the green; white will take its place. This happens in the middle band.

Red is on the outside of the main rainbow and on the inside of the second rainbow, the second rainbow is separated by 15 degrees and would have a darker band between them.

The third rainbow's color progression is the same as the main rainbow, ad infinitum.

He doesn't blind you with optics and tell you how it occurs; he just tells you what you'll see.  This is to optics as JK Rowling is to magic.

Night at Windmill End

I paid a brief visit to the Black Country Boat Festival over last weekend.   As promised, I went out for a nocturnal stroll, around 2am, and managed to avoid getting arrested.

The full moon did put in an occasional appearance.  I've said before how the moon can give a 'stage set' feel to nocturnal photos (for example, at Shardlow Lock a couple of years ago).

Unfortunately this time I found it hard to get good views around the festival site, since the delicate wash of moonlight was overwhelmed by the site's security floodlights.  Above is the motor Nuneaton in the foreground, with butty Malus behind it, and the old iron bridge over the Boshboil Arm behind that. 

Careful positioning was needed to avoid the floodlighting dazzling the camera, which meant that the viewing angle wasn't ideal.

Slightly more success came from the other end of the festival moorings, on the bridge next to the Bumblehole branch (see above.) Here, the floodlights weren't dazzling the camera. However, it was a duller view.

I enjoyed the stretch towards Netherton Tunnel (below).  You can see how the moon (behind my right shoulder at this point) fills in some of the detail on the right bank.  But it wasn't enough, so during the 30-second exposure I used my pocket torch to 'paint' the shadows, particularly of old BW workboat Atlas on the left, and the black cloths of the Narrowboat Trust's butty Brighton in the right foreground.

Try another view of Windmill End Junction below, where the little 'white cruiser' Hilda May provides a variety of colour.

Turning around at this point to face towards the moon, I photographed GUCCC Woolwich narrowboat Sagitta (below).

I cursed the festival site's floodlights here too, because their brilliance prevented me from going higher on the nearby bridge for a better view of the boats. 

Nevertheless, even from this low view, you can still see the 'glistening' effect of shooting towards the moon, whose cold light brings lines into sharp relief. Look at the gunwales of Sagitta, for example, which reflect the light brilliantly, or the path edges.

At this point I've again filled in the shadows with my torch, waggling it particularly against the back cabin and counter.

This torch-waggling is one day going to get me into trouble.  No boater, snug in bed, likes to see a torchbeam dancing on their window at 3am; it's a creepy thing to do and I do try to minimise its effect. Sorry.

As with most of my photos now, you can see them in higher resolution if you click on them.

Roger's curious cows

A chap called Roger saw my assorted earlier 'Curious Cows' posts and pictures (here's one of them, here's another), and it struck a chord with him.

He tells me he had a similar experience last April on the River Soar:

You are probably not that interested in another 'curious cows' shot, but just thought I would tell you that I thought of you when I saw these.

We are from Oz and get over every year for a 6 week canal fix on our share boat.  This year we did a round trip from Napton via Leicester and Llangollen. 

The pics were taken near Zouch on the Soar in April, using our point & click Lumix.

Roger's experience seems to be a little more 'ready made' than mine.

Judging by the other (more scene-setting) picture he sent (right) I presume it was taken as they swept past in the boat, and the cows were already lined up, ready for their photocall.

In the case of my earlier pictures, the cows were never in place and they only ambled over when I scrambled up a steep bank to see over it.

Had Roger's cows already gathered to see something else?  Or do they always stand together like that? 

Animal behaviourists must have a fascinating job. I could imagine a whole herd of them staring at the cows, trying to work out why they are doing that.

More night photography & the full moon calendar

Granny has been in central Birmingham, last week and this. I've taken to cruising the lonely and largely empty Main Line at dusk in order to charge my batteries, rather than run them on the visitor moorings below the residential apartments.  

After cruising the Soho Loop last weekend, I stopped to photograph the junction with the Icknield Port loop, and reminded myself why I love night photography so much.

This scene would be lovely, were I to catch one of the restaurant trip boats coming out of the junction.

Must try harder. Perhaps I can go cruising next weekend.

Graffiti seems only to add to the glamour of night time photography, and the liberal sprinkling of dates on every piece of canal 'furniture' serves to stamp antiquity onto the backdrop.

A full moon makes night photography easier. According to the Full Moon Calendar there's one next Monday.  You don't need a blazing full moon to make a difference - a waxing gibbous moon is enough to paint colour and detail into the shadows.  In the example above, a little detail in the vegetation behind the bridge would have helped.

One of my favourite city night pictures was of King Edward's Wharf, overlooking where Granny is right now, as it happens. 

I took it in January 2006 - gosh, nearly six years ago now -  and it shows the penthouse apartments of the block, thrown into relief against the sky, thanks to presence of a near-full moon behind. 

Shown this way, the building has the brooding presence of a 'Transformer' or an enormous alien insect, silently awaiting its moment of calling. 

The 'grid' on the roof (presumably some sort of safety measure) resembles the feathery antennae often found on the more flamboyant insects, while the 'eyes' underneath (and the light further down) only increase the sense of life stirring within.

I wonder if this is what the architects had in mind when they designed it all?

Cwuel to dogs?

I was looking for examples of people going fast past my boat (of which more later, and I came across this picture of a chap pretending to throw his West Highland Terrier into the urban canal.

He was just having fun, flinging it around, like you do, and I suspect the little dog got as much fearful fun as a toddler would, on the end of his daddy's arms. 

It's almost three years ago now, but I remember the moment.  Photographs can help you remember. 

The man had already done a similar movement - scooping up the dog as it ran after (and caught up with) him.  I shouted out to him, asking him to repeat the gesture, and he happily obliged.

Cwuel? I'd imagine some would think so. On the other hand, I'd imagine it's the closest most dogs ever get to a fairground ride.