In my former life, I spent quite some time in China; always bringing two Mamiya 7 bodies and the 43, 65 and 150 mm lenses with me. One body was equipped with ir film, the other with Fuji Provia 100F. And we are talking about loads of film...

As co-leader of a scientific research institute in Beijing, I had the chance to travel around in China, visiting remote places, staying at farmer's houses and, once, visiting the Mt Everest base camp on the Chinese side. The evening photo from the base camp was taken during this stay. I remember freezing cold nights and very warm days; a burning sun - and constant altitude sickness... The Chinese colleagues were even more reduced than me, so I went solo with my backpack and tripod to freeze the impressions. I remember I was only able to walk for 5-10 min, then I had to rest for some minutes, before continuing. Quite an experience... And quite a place. Nothing special for alpinists, but very special for the lowlanders among us...

Mamiya 7, Fuji Provia 100F.

A photo that could have been taken (almost) everywhere... But actually, this snap was taken during a visit to my parent's home, where I also grew up, around the Easter time some years back. In between conversation, relaxation, eating and family gatherings - I went for a walk with the Mamiya to capture the evening light with the Sun low on the sky. Or whatever interesting motif that passed my way. I remember that this slide was particularly nice to inspect with a 5-10x loupe on the light table. Interesting times, indeed: To search for motifs, make a capture without any form of preview, to send off the film to be developed, waiting for a week or two for the film to return, and then switch back the clock to the time of the capture, with slides shining on the light table...

Mamiya 7, 65mm, Fuji Provia 100F. 

Another image from the glacier Folgefonna on the western cosat of Norway. In my younger days, we had a tradition to climb the glacier outlet to the right of the image, named Bondhusbreen. The climb typically takes 10-12 hours, some times much more.

The photo is taken an early morning in June, after a night in tent at the lake. The night was foggy, but the weather forecast was fine and with the ascending sun, the fog gradually disappeared. I jumped onto a nearby boulder to get the mirroring effect of the lake. The climb up the glacier outlet went fine, and as far as I recall, we were set in the summit cabin at around midnight.

Mamiya 7, 65mm, Fuji Provia 100F.

Last traces of sun at a traffic junction in northern Beijing. This photo was taken close to, but a few years prior to the construction of the Bird's Nest, one of the main stadiums of the Beijing Olympic Games. And with the Olympic Games, the spaghetti networks of wires disappeared, at least near the main Stadiums. Luckily from a safety point of view, unfortunately for those (visually) liking cables and chaos...

As can be understood from some of the locals, like the young man on bike, the use of camera on tripod, cable release and light meter was not that common. But since my Chinese was close to non-existent, it was difficult to explain what I was doing...

I passed this junction on a regular basis. But the visibility was generally poor and the sky far from clear, so I used the opportunity  of having non-polluted air after a major winter storm. The next day, the air was muddy and the Sun was dimmed by the usual fossil haze. As was - and still is - the normal case for Beijing. Unfortunately.

Mamiya 7, 43mm, Fuji Provia 100F.

Endeleg! Endeleg er dei her!

Båtane og bussane. Og straumen av turistar i flokk. Frå alle krikar og krokar kjem dei, for å gleda seg over vår mellomalderby og fjordlandskapet. Slik skal det vera!

Lat eimen av sumar blandast med eimen frå den store verda! Lat svovel og parfyme og karbon og sveitte og nitrogen fylla lufta og lungene. Lat båtane og busane farga landskapet i ein grå-blå-gul dis, for å markera årstida og kor vi høyrer heime – i sentrum av det som skjer.

Ein stor takk til cruiseagenten som kjempar mot det kommunale vedtaket om maks 9000 passasjerar og fire cruisebåtar per dag! Vi er verdsborgarar og ønskjer oss meir – ikkje mindre – av det gode. Vi er rause og vil ta i mot, ikkje lena oss attende og stengja.

Takk til næringsministeren og Rederiforbundet som har argumentert og kjempa – og som sigra – for å unngå for store kutt i klimautsleppa frå internasjonal skipsfart!

Sjå bort frå avisskriveriet om utslepp av litt bade- og oppvaskvatn frå cruisebåtane. Turistane må då få gjera sitt! Og vaskevatnet vil uansett verta vatna ut i havet.

Lat oss verna om allemannsretten! Lat ikkje eit fåtal fruktdyrkarar, bønder eller aktivistar få stenga turistbåtane frå fjordane! Vi treng turistane – kva står vi elles attende med? 7-Eleven kioskar på annakvart hjørne? Folketomme gater?

Skulle nokon ha det minste problem med eksosrøyken, eller finna gatene i travlaste laget, er det berre å ta ferie eller halda seg inne. Vi lever trass alt i ei fri verd!

Høyr ikkje på galleristen og malaren og frisøren på Veterlidsallmenningen som klagar over bussar på tomgang og feilparkering og eg veit ikkje kva! Om ikkje bussane tek ein stopp i bakken, kvar skal då turistane gå av og stiga på? Og sjåførane få seg ein kaffitår? Eller Fløibanen henta overskotet frå?

Vi ønskjer at Bergen skal syda av cruiseliv – som Nord-Europa sitt svar på Venezia. Det er noko å vera stolt av! Og ein framifrå måte å halda vår vidgjetne natur – og vår verdsarv – i hevd på.

Lat oss difor gleda oss over lyden av morgongymnastikken på dekk, kringkasta av høgtalarar frå cruisskipa på Skolten, Bontelabo og Dokkeskjærskaien! For ikkje å gløyma trippel-fløytinga når Azura, Magellan, Aidasol, Britannia og Deutchland kastar loss i kveldinga. Som ein stor takk til oss alle!

Vestlandet par excellence – ver så god!

Vestlandet par excellence – ver så god!

A photo from the farm Sinjarheim - first mentioned in 1611 - located high up in the long and narrow valley on Western Norway, Aurlandsdalen. It's quite common and poluar to hike the valley in summer. This photo is from the midst of the winter; I needed to clear my mind during my study, I recall. So off I went... Luckily I brought with me crampons and an ice ax, for the ascent to Sinjarheim in winter means crossing some steep fields and narrow passages on ice. I am not sure that I would have repeated the hike now, but these were the younger days... Anyway, after some hours hike I arrived at the farm. The temperature was rather low, minus 15-20 degrees Centigrade, I guess, so I couldn't spend too much time before returning. I made a few exposures with Provia 100F and the Efke 820 AURA infrared film. This is how the farm looks like on infrared film, during the not-so long period with sun in the valley.

Mamiya 7 + 65mm, with Efke IR 820 AURA Infrared film and 092 IR-filter.

The photo club was conveniently small: One chairman and one member, and the latter happened to be me. The club was based in Beijing, with travels here and there in between other duties. Summer and winter, spring and fall. This photo is taken close to the Labrang Monastery, a few hours drive (if my memory serves me right) from Lanzhou, in north-central China.

I remember we had some problems to find the place; roads were partly blocked and partly under construction. And essentially no signs. And certainly no help from GPS... Anyway, we arrived at the Labrang Monastery in the afternoon. This gentleman was asked whether a photo or two was ok. No problem, he showed quite some interest in these strange visitors. He had clearly seen cameras before, but hardly any hand-hold light meters, I believe. The smile triggered by the light meter was fixed on film, followed by xièxiè and some gentle gestures, and we continued our afternoon stroll.

Mamiya 7, 65mm, Fuji Provia 100.

A remarkable fingerprint of the (near) geological past is U-shaped valleys. Intuitively, it is not that hard to imagine that rivers, constantly transporting smaller rocks and debris etc., may carve solid rocks over time, forming deep and rather narrow V-shaped valleys. That frozen ice do the same is, at first, less obvious. On the other hand, with a layer of 2-3 (or more) kilometres of ice on the landscape, slowly moving downslope and towards the sea, one can understand that tremendous frictional forces are at work. The resulting U-shaped valleys are beautiful, and we have quite some examples in Norway.

The attached image is from an almost perfectly U-shaped valley, Isterdalen, in North-Western Norway. Yes, I simply loves these valleys!

The photo was taken early in the morning in June. I joined a group of photo-entusiasts, and we had been shooting landscapes, farms and whatever the previous day and throughout the night. On the way back, heading for a upcoming workshop and (very) short of time, I kindly asked the driver to make a quick stop. With the Mamyia 7 body loaded with infra red film, it only took a few minutes to make some exposures. The other fellows remained in the car, cold and tired after shooting and, understandably, eager to reach the workshop in time...

In the end - at least based on my very subjective judgement - this short stop, with a single photographer in action  - made the night...

Mamiya 7 + 43mm, with Efke IR 820 AURA Infrared film and 092 IR-filter.

On a stay at the Faroe Islands some years back, I took the ferry from Torshavn (the capital) to the southernmost island, Suduroy, and looked up potential shooting locations on the island. This image was taken a little before the sun was setting in the ocean, with wind from the west (left). With the uplift of the humid air at the cliffs, fog and clouds drifted over the island. A quite typical situation; the ocean can be more or less cloud free, but the islands are generally covered in clouds. I think the locals talk about less than a handful days without clouds in a typical year.

I finished the shooting around mid night, without any bed for the night (I can be quite unorganised, particularly when drifting around with a camera...). But I stopped at a small hotel in a village close to the cliffs, hoping for a roof for the night. The doors were locked, so I was standing outside, knocking on the doors I could see. After quite some time, the owner showed up. It's safe to say he was more than skeptical to welcome guests after midnight. After some conversation - and with the room paid upfront - he agreed to let me in. After 16+ hours of shooting, it felt wonderful to dive into a bed...

midnight fogFrom Sudurøy, the southernmost island on the Faroes Island.

Mamiya 7, 80mm, Fuji Provia 100F.

A friend of mine and I were skiing to a glacier on the western coast of Norway, near and at the glacier Folgefonna. We didn't manage to reach the top-most cabin due to very strong wind (possibly close to hurricane force) and low temperature (-15 deg C or thereabout). Luckily, we managed to reach a small cabin, 2 km or so, from the top-most cabin. We stayed at this cabin for one and a half day, waiting for the storm to pass. We were both afraid that the cabin could be blown away. Quite scary, actually. At sunset the second evening (about half past three, local time), the sun showed up for a short time. I jumped out of the sleeping bag, put the skiing booths on, and ran out. I managed to take a few pictures, standing in lee of the cabin. I remember that the shutter speed was low, possibly 1/10 to 1/15 sec. One picture was fine, the others were blurred. A few moments later, the sun was gone, and we were left with darkness and wind. The weather improved during the night, so the following morning we could ski to the top-most cabin. That was a true relief, as we were left with a little chocolate and a few biscuits.

Mamiya 7II, 43mm, Fuji Provia 100F.

A photo from the outskirt of the third largest glacier in Norway (Folgefonna), located close to the western coast where I live. I joined a group that crossed the glacier on ski; it typically takes 2-3 days, and it is quite popular in spring. After installing ourself in the cabin Fonnabu in the afternoon after 10+ hours on ski, and with the self-made dinner about to be served, the light shifted quickly and turned yellow-to-red. With the rest of the group about to enjoy the warm food, I headed out with the Mamiya in my hand. Shortly before the sun set in the ocean in west, I took several photos with low clouds sweeping over the glacier and the surrounding landscape, constantly interfering with the warm light.

I remember I commented on the beautiful light and sunset when I was back in the cabin. The group didn't understand what I was talking about. But I guess the dinner was tasty; I was left with next to nothing... No problem, I enjoyed a biggie sandwich from my backpack, made at home two days earlier. More importantly and in contrast to the rest of the group, I brought home a particularly colourful memory from the glacier... Mamiya 7, 65 mm, Fuji Provia 100F.

26th consecutive day with rain in my hometown. No complaints; but a little sun would warm...

Leica SL + Sigma 135mm f1.8 Art (Nikon mount) at f3.5, 1/250 sec.