Sails on the Horizon

Pendragon Castle, Mallerstang, Cumbria, UK

Nice boats, nice fence, misty hills, but a dead tree steals the show 👀

Llandudno Photo Dump / Pentax MV / Lomography 400

Lomography 400 / Pentax MV

B&W photo blog from the doorstep

A visual blog this time, as my last roll of black and white (Lomography Lady Grey 400) came back with some lovely (lovely as in half decent relative to my limited experience!) monochromatic shots. 

The Kirkby Stephen Poetry Path

Near where I live is the Kirkby Stephen Poetry Path - a series of carved poems addressing the hill farmer’s relationship with the beautiful landscape in and around the Upper Eden Valley.

Pentax MV / Lomography Lady Grey 400

These two photos are a closer look at one of the first stones you see when joining the path. Part of the wordsmithery was temporarily imprisoned in a pool of ice, the film capturing the crisp carvings beautifully with a dusting of grain.

Kirkby Stephen Poetry Path

Dystopian tendencies

Here are a few shots I really like because of the grain and contrast - I’m not doing anything fancy with the camera, and I'm using the ‘easy’ 400 film stock.

Film handles light differently, which I just love.

Pentax MV / Lomography Lady Grey 400 

The black walls contrasting with the white roof, the delightfully spiky ‘fence’. It’s gone a little off piste from the rule of thirds - which I could have corrected with a wee crop - but I like it as is.

Pentax MV / Lomography Lady Grey 400 

I’m getting a little addicted to photographing clouds. I don’t remember the sky being so defined when I took the photo - the clouds are wonderfully 3D, with the grain adding an extra dimension. 

Pentax MV / Lomography Lady Grey 400 

I took this photo on a bike ride. The sun was low in a brilliant blue sky, the hedges just starting to come alive with buds of lime green. The sky reflected in puddles of diamond blue, still and perfect enough to appear solid to anyone approaching.

I was happy I’d remembered my camera but a wee bit gutted it was loaded with black and white. I took the photo anyway and I’m glad I did. It’s the Wizard of Oz before over the rainbow. 

A #ThrowbackThursday blog, back to the 2019 Tall Ships Races. An annual celebration of Tall Ships and their history - exhilarating sailing, stunning cruises and celebrations across Northwest Europe. It is insanely expensive to sail on the official race legs, but that year one of the ships was making a ‘delivery voyage’ from Aberdeen in Scotland to meet the Tall Ship Races in Fredrikstad, at a fraction of the usual cost.

The Tall Ship Maybe at Liverpool. Pentax MV / Lomography Lady Grey 400

The ship in question was the 38m gaff-rig schooner Blue Clipper - sister vessel to the Tall Ship Maybe who I stumbled across in Liverpool just a couple of weeks ago. 

My friend - a fellow Tall Ship appreciator - and I boarded our vessel at Aberdeen docks. Dwarfed amongst the metallic monoliths of commercial shipping, she was a welcome juxtaposition of wooden blocks and warm ropes against the unforgiving rust stained riveted walls of the freighters. An introduction to the crew, a tour of the boat and a safety drill later, sails were hoisted and we were heading out into the North Sea.

I’ll never forget the moment exciting serenity turned into stomach churning adrenalin, as we left the shelter of the harbour walls. The brutal Northerly wind slammed into the boat beam on. Our cabin was on the leeward side, that is the side away from the wind. Our bunks were at such a crazy angle, we were sleeping on the cabin walls more than the mattress.

That was the state of play for the next two nights, three days. The ship shuddering as wave after wave hit her sides, waves crashing and foaming over her bow. There was no longer any natural light in our cabin, just a dark, gurgling, watery vortex where the sky should have been. It was a new and exhilarating emotion, to feel so safe aboard a pitching and rolling sailing ship as we forged our way eastwards. The dark depths of the North Sea below us, the sails huge and full above our heads.

I was incredibly seasick. I lived on a couple of Skittles a day and spent most of the time being thrown onto the side of the ship, as I lay in my tumultuous excuse for a bed. It was surreal. Time stood still whilst the seas thrashed beneath me. 

By the fourth day Norway was well within reach, the seas had calmed, and our cabin was filled with daylight. I crawled out of my bunk and up onto deck to discover a glorious summers day, the sea a sparkling, unbroken blue circle of peace. As if it had always been that way.

That porthole, sun on the canvas, the Tall Ships at Fredrikstad (iPhone photos)

I peeled spuds on the deck, took the helm during a moonlit night watch, and relaxed on the warm wooden deck as we glided past the Summer Isles towards Fredrikstad.

The simplistic horizon became fragmented by the indistinct masts of distant ships, growing into beautiful brigs and schooners of all sizes and nationalities as we started to gather outside the port, waiting our turn to enter the historic harbour. 

There is so much more to tell that there isn’t really the time and space for here; entering the breathtakingly beautiful port of Fredrikstad, the Tall Ships celebrations, the train journey to Oslo, terrible £25 take-away pizzas and the The Kon-Tiki Museum. The Kon-Tiki Museum is hopefully another blog for another day, as that destination had been on my bucket list ever since I first read Thor Heyerdahl’s book aged 11.

My childhood hero - yes, my childhood hero is a raft! (iPhone photos)

The Tall Ships are visiting Helsinki in 2024. I LOVE Finland! By hook or crook I’m going to get there, ideally by Tall Ship but I’ll have to find out how much health I can recover once I start the neuro-physio…

Fragmented thoughts, city photo ops and THE neurologist appt.

Let’s start this blog with HAPPY. I took - though I say so myself - some pretty darn sweet photos around the historic Albert Docks area in Liverpool, with my first roll of Lomography 400. What do you think:

Pentax MV / Lomography 400 - not as much grain as Kodak 400 but it handles shadows and contrast beautifully

This was my first time in a city with the 35mm and I loved it, two rolls of film snapped off in a square mile. I was fortunate the natural light was so beautiful that day, and I was there at just the right time to capture the dramatic long shadows of early evening.

I bumped and squeaked (note to self, buy some WD40) around Albert Docks for a good 3 hours. Blatant product plug - for a tiny little travel scooter the eFoldi Explorer can handle cobbles nay bother. It got a couple of nice comments, and a lady wanted the details for her husband, who was looking for a ‘cool’ scooter having recently been diagnosed with Parkinson’s. It was really nice to be able to help someone.

It was fairly late in the day so whilst I did bob into the Tate (cafe, cake, yum) I didn’t have chance to look around inside. It was, however, impossible to avoid the ‘gravity defying’ (really though) Ugo Rondinone Liverpool Mountain. Here are a couple of photos:

Ugo Rondinone Liverpool Mountain / Pentax MV / Lomography 400

Liverpool Mountain

I was in Liverpool overnight for an early morning neurology appointment. THE appointment, the appointment that - after nearly 7 years of tests, mis-diagnosis, repeat tests and puzzled consultants - I was hoping would finally provide an answer, a diagnosis, a prognosis, a plan of action. 

The appointment was at 9am. I didn't sleep very well at all, I was so nervous of being sent away again, with the acknowledgment that something was wrong but no plan or advice on how to cope with it.

This next paragraph has the potential to be over long, it could go on about what the consultant said, the umpteen tests I’ve had over the years, my current physical (dis)ability, the fact that I cried the whole time, the fact that childhood trauma was part of the conversation (which I was NOT expecting!). The outcome was, I did get a diagnosis. FND. Functional Neurological Disorder. Never heard of it.

About FND

And to be perfectly honest - after the initial high of finally having Something I can identify with - I feel even more helpless than I did before. Like a kind of post-diagnosis crash. I thought I’d left those negative feelings behind with the uncertainty, but I don’t know how to process all this. The promise of specialist treatment feels a very VERY long way off knowing just how long NHS waiting lists are. 

I am genuinely trying my hardest not to be a fun sponge, I am just not feeling overly cheerful right now. The pain and mobility is worse than ever. My muscles feel like they are being shrunk, like melting plastic - too small, very tight, and incredibly painful. Even typing hurts. I’m already doing all of the things listed on the Self Help page of the FND website, and have been for quite some time now. 

Let’s end this blog with HAPPY(ish). There does appear to be some excellent online support forums, and my friends and family have been absolutely frigging awesome. I wanted to sign off with a ‘I got this’ vibe but at the moment I ain’t got this at all. I am working on it though…

Photo dump: Albert Docks in Liverpool. Blog to follow... !

A few words on forgotten memories and derelict ideas.

Pentax MV / Kodak Gold 400

Mustard Yellow Curtains

When I was a child, we lived in rural Wales. It was an old detached house, surrounded by woodland and wildlife. It also came with a mysteriously abandoned old caravan. It had mustard yellow curtains, and a weird fuzzy brown fabric covered the seats.

Old abandoned anythings are intriguing. Why are they there, where have they been, what happened. As a child, it’s potential as a secret base was assessed before deciding that building dens in the forest would be infinitely more fun. We did rescue a strange smelling drafts set from one of the peeling laminate cupboards. 

Until I was older, I had no idea what happened to that caravan. I remember it being there one day, and gone the next. My younger sister, whose ability to remember things has always far surpassed my own, later told me that our dad hired a digger, dug a big hole, pushed the caravan in and buried it. 

Memories of the massive digger…still nothing. 

But I do now remember wishing I’d rescued the curtains for my den.

Pentax MV / Kodak Gold 400

Finnish Rock Concerts

Not all that long ago I owned a motorhome similar in size to the one in the photo. By heck it was a beast, a clumsy Fiat with a clumsy 1.9 diesel engine that could manage a top speed of 55mph downhill with the wind on its arse. Hated by car drivers everywhere and near impossible to park.

I absolutely loved it, and it would have been amazing - in a different life to this one - to take the old girl over to the continent and spend 6 months chugging around Europe. Waking up by the Med, sand all over the dashboard, umpteen empty coffee cups shoved into the door pockets. Each one a crumpled souvenir from an exotic late night visit to a service station. Trundle north into Scandinavia, see the midnight sun and take in a Finnish rock concert before taking her back over the North Sea to England.

I might have fitted a bike rack for a little moped so I could put-put around the Tuscany countryside, stopping for a picturesque espresso in an even more picturesque village square. I definitely would have covered the rear window in a tasteless, colourful cacophony of stickers from the countries that we visited.

Pentax MV / Ilford HP5

Lateral thinking. Over thinking. A mysterious medical misery (try saying that after a few pints...).

Random photo just because. Pentax MV / Ilford HP5

The other day I went out on the ebike for 21.42 minutes. I also cleaned out the chickens (5 minutes) and drove to the supermarket for a bottle of don’t-judge-me single malt whiskey (15 minutes).

The following day I was so incredibly tired and so incredibly sore I couldn’t even face reading, as the pain in my arms was too great to even hold the sodding book. I dictated this is into my phone, to tidy up at a later date on the laptop.

I don’t know what is going wrong within me. I’ve been tested for pretty much every muscle disease and autoimmune condition under the sun, bar rarer types of muscular dystrophy and motor neurons. At 3am of course it is MND, brains are not renowned for being overly positive in the wee hours.

Better days - lateral thinking

So on days when I can face the bike, or a coffee date, or a short trip out I am a positive, alternative thinking version of the broken me. Can’t walk far? Use the scooter. Sun shining on the hills? Drive out to a view point and take the camera. I can almost accept what is happening by making different choices. Adapt to perform, don’t let the b*****d get you down and all that far-too-overly-positive ‘warrior’ stuff.

Facebook memories reminding me that I’ve achieved and done some pretty darn cool things. Go me.

Bad days - over thinking

Then there are the murky days, currently outnumbering the blue sky days by about 5:1.

Can’t walk far? Hate who I am, feel utterly pointless, Google shop power-chairs. Sun shining on the hills? Throw massive self pity party and irrationally start resenting my friends (obviously very lovely and totally justified!) Facebook photos of fell walks and days out. Not a ‘warrior’ in any sense of the word; disgustingly self obsessed, hiding away, too embarrassed to be seen as someone I don’t recognise or accept.

Facebook memories reminding me that even a year ago I could do so much more. I miss sailing SO much.

People say - with only the very best of intentions - things along the lines ‘at least it’s not *insert well known chronic condition here*’. As if by remaining nameless It is a manageable, harmless condition. I suppose it does make the conversation a bit easier, and I’m absolutely not going to shoot anyone down for trying to make me feel better. 

I know It isn’t harmless and I can’t seem to manage It. I’m swinging on an exhausting pendulum between trying to ignore it because it feels too messed up to be true, and forcing myself to use the words ‘I need help’. Help with the kids, help with the housework, help with the boredom. It is relentlessly progressive and is speeding up. This year is the toughest yet. I have been saying that every year since 2018, but with each increase of toughness comes a whole new level of acceptance to somehow get under control.

I admit I don’t know where I’m going with this, I think I just needed to get something out there. Will attempt greater positivity, a half decent structure and definitely more photography next time!

The station at Horton-in-Ribblesdale. It was a very monochrome kind of day but the colours are still quite vibrant. Love shooting on film! Pentax MV / Kodak Gold 400

The biking back story

I used to absolutely love mountain biking. My sister introduced me to the sport as a way of keeping fit, just after I realised that something evil was afoot regarding my health. Loved it. Turns out I am a total speed freak mud junkie, and it was with a very heavy heart the mtb went into the shed, reluctantly discarded for a hybrid ebike.

It’s a lovely machine, but to me it represents what I can’t do rather than what I can - especially as the distances are slowly but surely reducing down to around 8km-10km a week and counting. Backwards.

Anyway. To break the monotony of the ‘from the doorstep’ routes I had the idea of taking my e-bike on the train. A blindingly obvious idea, seeing as I live on the infamously scenic Settle to Carlisle Railway.

For those not in the know, this line is among the best known rail journeys in the UK, and easily one of the most scenic. It stretches 73 miles (117km) from Settle in Yorkshire, crosses the dramatically beautiful Pennines - the ‘roof of England’ - and ends at Carlisle in Cumbria.

More info here, for those that need it: The Settle & Carlisle Railway Trust

Pentax MV / Kodak Gold 400

Disappointing the Strava Gods

The 12.34 train from Kirkby Stephen arrived at Horton-in-Ribblesdale about half an hour later. It was cold, REALLY cold. Drizzly. Almost wished I hadn’t bothered to be honest. A quick squint at Google Maps took me a mile down the road to the (lovely) Middle Studfold Farm tea rooms, where I refuelled my enthusiasm with food.

The Dales village of Horton-in-Ribblesdale, even on a grey day, is undeniably stunning. Not much was open, which is to be expected in February, but there wasn’t much to be open even in summer. It’s a perfect destination for cyclists, walkers and peace-seekers who find the nearby Lake District just a bit too hot to handle when the holiday crowds descend. 

I kept the route short, around 7km in total, and stuck to exploring some of the tiny back lanes in search of some nice photography moments. Hardest part was trying to turn a blind eye to the absolutely perfect mtb terrain…

I used to get pointlessly upset about my decreasing Strava kudos. Mercifully I’ve managed to cut myself some slack on this, I now no longer feel I have to appease the Gods of Strava and worry about those little pixellated trophies. Chasing QoM is yet another Thing I’ve allocated to the mental storage unit of ‘You Did It, Though’.

Pentax MV / Ilford HP5 and Kodak Gold 400

All the photos in this blog were taken - through necessity - from the roadside, but perhaps it goes to show you don’t always have to hike off the beaten path. 

The Ribblehead Viaduct

For the benefit of Ribblehead Viaduct newbies, it is the most impressive structure on the Settle-Carlisle Railway, and was constructed between 1869 and 1874.

Pentax MV / Kodak Gold 400

The day after this mini adventure I was disappointingly very sore indeed, tragic Strava stats to one side I’m very glad I didn’t try anything fancier. I’ve promised myself I’ll bring the bike back to the Settle-to-Carlisle line in warmer weather, maybe hop off at Ribblehead Viaduct. Even if at that point I’m down to 5km, 3km, 1km or hobbling off the train with a picnic, it’s still better than not going at all.

Hello, I'm new to blogging and Tumblr. I blog about 35mm film photography, travel, sailing, and disability. Not necessarily all of those things all at once. Be nice to meet some friendly Tumblrs!

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Pentax MV / Kodak 400 Gold