For most of my life I have had a deep aversion to cold climates. This probably has a lot to do with my years spent in a largely unheated boarding school in the Dublin (Ireland) mountains. Memories of drinking water freezing overnight by my bedside in the concrete dormitory that I suffered in with twenty others (windows were required to be left open by a sadistic house master irrespective of outside climatic conditions); and afternoons spent on frozen rugby pitches with fingers and toes numb from the cold, are still fresh in the mind. This was also a driving force in my decision to exit Ireland ASAP post-university graduation to a destination with more agreeable temperatures. Ireland’s 20% unemployment rate at the time (things seem to be going full circle there) was a much lesser consideration.

In turn, the gravitation towards warm weather destinations has been a noticeable feature of my photographic life. It has only been in the last two years that I have ventured to cold weather areas. And I have to write that these have turned out to be some of my most memorable and rewarding trips. My Antarctica trip late last year stands out, but snowy Hokkaido in Northern Japan, which I visited in mid-February, now looks set to becoming a regular return spot.

The fact is that as long as one is dressed appropriately -crucially for photographers this means having an ample supply of hand warmers (which work best when placed in retractable mittens) -then photographing wildlife and landscapes against a backdrop of snow and ice presents endless opportunities for aesthetically pleasing images.

Hokkaido’s big winter wildlife attraction is its collection of majestic avian species. Prominent amongst these are the Japanese Red Crowned Crane, the White Tailed Eagle, the Whooper Swan and the Steller’s Sea Eagle. With time a constraining factor, I had to limit myself to the first three. The Steller’s Sea Eagle, with its stronghold on the Shiritoko peninsular of NE Hokkaido will have to wait until next year.

Arriving at the airport in Sapporo on the western side of Hokkaido with a plane full of ski-destined Hong Kong expats, I was greeted, horror of horrors, by the longest passport control lines that I have ever faced, at any airport, anywhere in the world. Not just that, but the temperature control had seemingly been switched to 30 degrees centigrade, which would have been fine were it not for the fleeces and down jackets worn by all arrivals. So it is official. Japan actually has an inefficient piece of infrastructure (although this will probably be rectified when a new terminal opens this month). 90 minutes later, T-shirt clad and drenched in perspiration, I emerged to the adjoining rail station to find I had missed my train to the port city of Kashiro in SE Hokkaido. This meant a three hour wait for the next train, which in turn would mean that I would miss my connection to the lake side village of Kawayu Onsen.

After a four hour cross-island rail journey through snow covered forests and hills barely visible in the inky darkness, I arrived in Kashiro at 11pm to a temperature of -20c. I quickly located one of Japan’s ubiquitous but comfortable motels just a minute’s walk from the station.

Six hours later I was back at the station to catch my 90 minute train to Kawayu Onsen. As dawn broke, the region’s abundant wildlife made itself visible with Sika deer especially prominent along the edges of the rail track. Also known as Spotted Deer or Japanese Deer, they were once common throughout Asia and the Russian Far East but their range has today been heavily reduced and fragmented in all areas except Japan, where the species remain common. This has been due to conservation efforts and the extinction of wolves, its main predator. The population has expanded so much in Japan that it is now considered a threat to both forests and farmland to the extent that hunting is encouraged in certain areas of Japan.

After a quick transfer to my hotel in Kawayu Onsen, I hopped into a taxi with nearby Lake Kussharo-ko my destination. At 80 sq kms, this is Japan’s largest Crater Lake. Each year hundreds of Whooper Swans winter in Eastern Hokkaido, principally on Lake Kussharo-ko, after migrating from Siberia and Northern Mongolia. Although much of the lake is frozen in winter, it is fed by onsen water, creating warm temperatures and several natural rotemburo (outdoor onsens) around its edge.

In the following image, the steam from the hot water meeting the cold air can be seen in the foreground with the frozen lake and snow covered hills in the background.

During the night, the swans leave the lake and return early morning which provides ample photo opportunities for flying bird shots. While I took plenty of these, my rule of thumb is that when the surrounding landscape is attractive – and in Hokkaido it is often stunningly beautiful – then I prefer to go wider and place the subject in the context of its environment.

That said, it’s important to shoot a variety of images. This next shot was taken with a 600mm lens with a 25mm extension tube attached to permit close focusing. I was sitting down next to the swan with the lens resting on my knees. I love these kinds of images where the subject completely fills the frame, where there is one main point of focus and where the viewer has to pause for a moment to be sure of what they are looking at.

The swans, which are the Eurasian equivalent of the North American Trumpeter Swan, pair for life. In the early morning they tend to be highly gregarious, displaying and calling loudly with their distinctive trumpeting sounds.

Nearly all the visitors and photographers congregate at a point on the eastern shore of the lake where the swans are fed grain in winter by local staff and where tourists can buy parcels of bread to feed the swans. While I took some nice images here, I have an abhorrence to photographing wildlife and landscapes in the presence of large groups of people. So on my first afternoon, I sought out some quieter locations at the southern end of the lake.

I found one especially attractive site where I could be on my own with a group of some 20 swans. Armed with some bread to keep them interested, I spent a number of blissful hours on two consecutive late afternoons surrounded by my new friends against a gorgeous backdrop. This is one of my favourite images from the trip, taken while lying on the ice.

After two days at Kussharo-ko, I was collected by my Japanese guide on the third morning. After a morning at the lake, we spent the afternoon snow-shoeing along the crater edge of nearby Lake Mashu-ko, a 212-meter-deep caldera lake. This image shows Silver Birch trees in the snow along the crater edge with the lake in the background.

Eastern Hokkaido is home to two main raptor species, the White-Tailed Eagle and the Steller’s Sea Eagle. I did not have time on this trip to visit the areas frequented by the latter, but the former can be seen in prodigious numbers at the Akan Crane Centre for about 30 minutes during the daily feeding session that is carried out in an adjoining field for large numbers of cranes. In the build-up to the feed, which includes fish, large numbers of eagles take up position in the surrounding trees. Once the feed begins, they take to the air before periodically swooping down to aggressively compete for the fish. While all a bit contrived for my liking and you will be surrounded by throngs of local photographers, it does provide limitless photo opportunities of the flying eagles.

On occasion, the feeding attracts other, non-avian visitors with this Red Fox putting in a brief appearance as it weaved its way through the cranes looking for leftovers.

On the way back from the eagles one afternoon, we were lucky to chance upon this Ural Owl at its nest.

The number one wildlife attraction in Hokkaido however, is unquestionably the Japanese Red Crowned Crane. It is the world’s second rarest Crane with the only more critically endangered Crane being the North American Whooping Crane. Today the world population of the Red Crowned Crane stands at just 1,500. Of these, 1,000 are found in China and Korea and the remaining 500 in Eastern Hokkaido. Unlike the former groups which breed in Siberia and Mongolia and then migrate to Korea and China, the Hokkaido flock are resident all year round.

The cranes were widely hunted in Japan in the 19^th century, by the end of which they had disappeared from Japan’s Southern Islands. World War II and the Korean War further devastated the Japanese and PRC crane populations. By the winter of 1950, the Hokkaido birds had been reduced to just 25 half-starved birds huddled together around a hot spring. Local farmers came to their rescue by supplying them with grain.

Over the subsequent years, supplemental feeding, rigorous protection and unflagging public support have enabled them to rebound to over 600 birds today. Death from power line collisions has been reduced by a programme to make the power lines more visible to the birds.

The Hokkaido birds breed and spend spring, summer and autumn in the marshes and swamps of Eastern Hokkaido but in winter they congregate on the snow covered wheat and corn fields where they take advantage of public and privately maintained feeding sites. In this first image of the cranes, a pair can be seen coming in to land on one of the fields during a heavy snowfall.

Once a firm bond has been established, the birds remain mated for life. The most spectacular aspect of crane courtship is the dancing ceremony which peaks in February. I had specially timed my visit to coincide with this event.

The birds prance stiff legged around each other, alternately bowing and stretching with their wings half extended. They punctuate the dance by leaping high into the air with their legs dangling loosely beneath them. When excited they pick up small sticks or pieces of grass, toss them exuberantly into the air and then stab them on the way down.

Capturing decent images of the cranes dancing is not as easy as it sounds. Firstly, the courtship display only takes place occasionally and a large group of cranes can go for extended periods with no dancing activity. Secondly, the birds tend to group together quite tightly making it difficult to isolate a courting pair. Thirdly, it is often difficult to frame the cranes against a pleasant background.

The cranes also perform a duet of their ringing unison calls to further strengthen their bond.

While capturing images of the courtship display was a priority, I also wanted to show the birds in their environment. The following image is a classic case of less is more.

One of the most popular places to view the cranes in the early morning is from a bridge overlooking the Setsuri bridge. Lighting and climatic conditions vary considerably from day to day. The first image shows a crane wading in the river towards hoar frosted trees on a particularly cold morning.

The second shows a crane standing in the river as snow falls.

Hokkaido is not just about wildlife and it would wrong to ignore its often stark but picturesque winter landscapes.

As I have noted in previous blogs, the whole experience of Hokkaido’s wildlife and landscapes is enhanced by the exceptional local hospitality you will encounter, by the wonderful onsens and the amazing food.

Japan is a firm favourite of mine and Hokkaido has to be at the very top for nature lovers.

In mid-December, I made a brief excursion to one of my favourite “short-trip destinations”: Jigokudani in the mountains of Central Honshu. Both Paveena and I have a deep affection for Japan: from the food to the culture, to the people to the landscapes – there is so much to love. In many ways it is the antithesis of China. The latter still has some amazing scenery but getting to and travelling around these places can be highly stressful. Japan is a place of ancient gods and customs but it is also the cutting edge of cool modernity. China has some of the former although much is suppressed and a small slice of the latter but in truth, it is no match for Japan where everything is ultra efficient, where everyone is charmingly courteous and where there is a tangible sense of history and cherished traditions. Throw in the sumptuous food, beautiful ryokens and relaxing onsens and even if you had little or no interest in its landscapes and wildlife, this would still be a great place to visit.

Japan has to have the world’s most efficient train system. Has a train ever been delayed in Japan? In the entire history of its railroads? Probably not. Hence getting around Japan is a breeze as was the case with my two hour train journey to Nagano followed by the 45 minute train to the town of Yudanaka. This ancient settlement still retains many old wooden buildings and its inhabitants are more likely to be seen wearing traditional Japanese attire than western clothing as one passes through its quaint narrow streets. The town is built over a system of thermal hot springs and this is its big draw card – the numerous onsens that can found in its ryokens and public bath houses.

Its other main attraction is the monkeys who bathe in the hot spring onsen at the nearby Monkey Park or Jigokudani Yaenkoen. To reach the park from my ryoken involved a simple 5 minute tax ride followed by a 30 minute hike through a beautiful snow-coved conifer forest. Around 200 Japanese Macaques live in the area. While no-one seems to be able to definitely confirm it, legend has it that the monkeys began to frequent the onsen during the early 1960s when a local ryoken owner took pity on them and left food out in winter. A special onsen (technically a rotemburo) was eventually built for them.

During the winter months when food is scarce, the park staff scatter barley seeds and apples into the rotemburo and the surrounding areas. The Macaques still spend the nights high up in the surrounding forest covered mountains, but in the winter months, large numbers appear in the daytime and spend most of the daylight hours in the park where they can be guaranteed food.

The Macaques have become so used to humans that they quite happily tolerate camera lenses only a few inches away from their faces. They will, on occasion make mock charges and pull aggressive facial expressions but unless you actually touch them, there is little danger.

In December 2008, I had visited the park with Paveena and had spent most of the time around the rotemburo where we got some great images – both wide-angle and close-ups of the Macaques, many of whom have remarkably human-like faces and mannerisms.

While I spent some brief periods at the rotemburo on this trip, I allocated most of time to firstly, the surrounding slopes which for two of my three days were bathed in sunshine during the midday hours. My second objective was to try and get some close-up, wide-angled shots of the Macaques jumping across the river.

The Macaques engage in a wide variety of intriguing behaviours. On the steep ice and snow enveloped mountain slopes, the young Macaques’ carefree play can be witnessed as they climb trees, cavort and roughhouse. Nearby, mothers cuddle babies and adults affectionately groom one another.

Cigarette break?

Even in the sun, temperatures are still below freezing with mothers and babies and sometimes whole families huddled tightly together in an effort to stay warm.

When I was last in Jigokudani, I had observed that the Macaques would occasionally hurl themselves across the small, but fast flowing river that runs through the park. Like all primates, they are incredibly dexterous with ice-covered, slippery rocks proving no impediment as a launch pad to propel themselves to the other side.

Most of the crossings take place in a brief interval at the outset of feeding time (3x daily) when the park’s wardens scatter seeds on the snow and rocks beside the river. Through careful observation, I could see that the Macaques had certain favoured crossing points. However, from my experience, if you positioned yourself at the river’s edge beside their exit point, they tended to shy away. So I had come with a man-made rock casing which served the purpose of disguising the camera in order not to spook the Macaques. I would then stand 20 meters away and use a wireless trigger to trip the camera shutter. There are many difficulties with this technique, not least that you need to set the lens to manual focus and then guess in advance the distance from the camera to the leaping Macaque at the time the photo is taken. Secondly, because of the low light conditions, some element of fill flash would be needed to illuminate the Macaque. The degree of fill flash would also have to be guessed at in advance. The rock casings were not designed to accommodate an on-camera flash meaning that an off-camera flash would be needed by using a flash sync cord. The biggest problem though was the unbelievable speed at which the Macaques would launch themselves across the river. Even using an ISO of 800, I was constantly fighting to achieve sufficient shutter speed to freeze the motion of the Macaques. In addition, the wireless transmitter was often ever so slightly slow in reacting to the downward pressure of my finger – or so it seemed; the reality was that it was simply my slow reactions.

I spent a number of bone chilling hours waiting for the Macaques to cross. When they did, I was mostly too slow with lots of images of their back legs. After three days I had to largely admit defeat and these two shots were the best I could come up with.

On the fourth day, I just had time for 90 minutes at the park before rushing to catch my train back to Tokyo. So for old time’s sake, I headed back to the rotemburo.

The leaping Macaques have now become a bit of an obsession of mine, so I have promised myself another trip next year. However, before that, Paveena and I are bound for the eastern half of Hokkaido, Japan’s frigid, northern-most Island this weekend. We are both really looking forward to this adventure with the combination of its winter landscapes and unique wildlife promising plenty of outstanding photo opportunities.  

I arrived in the Mara in early January to a landscape completely transformed from the one that I had encountered on my previous two trips in August and September last year. Back then, the whole of Kenya had been in the grip of a prolonged drought. An unrelenting heat bore down from cloudless skies, parching the land and cloaking it in a veil of dusty brown. As water sources dried up and as the vegetation withered, so too did the animals. Northern Kenya and in particular, its elephant population, was especially hard hit with normally reliable rivers reduced to scorched, cracked  fingers of dust. While water levels were significantly down on usual levels, the Mara River continued to flow, allowing the area’s wildlife to cling on, assuming they still processed sufficient nimbleness to escape the clutches of the river’s voracious crocodile population.

In December the rains arrived. Following a deluge lasting several days, which saw the previous bone dry, black-cotton soil that covers the Mara taking on a consistency of gooey chocolate, the landscape morphed into a verdant green. The Talek River – the Mara’s other major water source – which as recently as November had been no more than trickle had now risen to a level making vehicle crossings impossible, thereby necessitating lengthy detours.

Although the migration herds are absent at this time of the year, having moved south to the breeding and calving expanses of the Serengeti in Tanzania, the usual array of predators and game were all on full display along with various additional players not usually seen during migration season. Another bonus was the virtual absence of vehicles, in marked contrast to the peak season months. While this made finding animals a little more difficult, the reward was that once found, you could often be on your own with them for long periods.

For thirteen years I have hoped to photograph the elusive Caracal. Once, three years ago, I had a brief encounter with one as night was falling, but it was a daylight encounter that I longed for.

Caracals are not only almost exclusively nocturnal but are incredibly shy and tend to inhabit areas characterized by long grass – all of which makes a good day time sighting extremely rare.

In October, I received word that a family of Caracals were being seen regularly in an area not far from where we camp so I was hopeful that on this trip I would run into this most secretive of cats.

Early in the trip after arriving back at camp one evening, we received a radio call that a Caracal had been seen just outside the entrance of the camp. Grabbing a camera, we rushed into our vehicle and sure enough, no more than 50 meters away was an adult Caracal, out in the open and showing none of the shyness that it is renowned for. In the gathering gloom of twilight, I took some half way decent images at ISO 1,600 and 1/25^th of a second (camera technology is pretty amazing these days: a few of the pics were sharp with acceptable levels of grain).

After a fruitless search early the next morning, we moved off to a neighboring area when we received a call from a friendly Italian guide (thanks Federico) that he had been following two adult Caracals since dawn. Within a few minutes, I had my first daylight sighting, and shortly thereafter, my first photos.

Over the course of the next few hours we followed the two feline beauties as they flitted in and out of the grass cover. So stealthy are they that it is very easy to lose sight of them if you take your eyes off them for even a few moments. Caracals are cryptically coloured except for the head, which is boldly marked and surmounted by remarkably conspicuous ears, white on the inside and black on the outside, with black tufts, so that every twist, turn and flick is clear to see.

After briefly losing sight of our pair, one of them suddenly emerged briefly, holding a Scrub Hare in its jaws. I practically wet myself! Whether it had been killed there and then or had been stashed away for some time was unclear. Simon, our amazing Masai guide and driver desperately tried to get us into a position for a photo but alas we were thwarted by a combination of the long grass and the Caracal dropping the intact carcass into a deep burrow.  

For the next two hours, the two cats spent the time periodically eating, resting and occasionally slinking off to drink. The latter activity necessitated passing through one of the few unobstructed areas. This individual kindly stopped briefly to pose for us.

With one of my long held wishes now fulfilled and with this encounter having effectively made the trip, I was able to take the view that everything else on the trip should be treated as a bonus.

As always we spent a fair bit of time with other members of the cat family. The Ol Kiombo pride of lions has split up and is scattered along both banks of the Talek River. The Lionesses on each side all have young cubs and we endeavored to find them on a number of mornings, with mixed success. Having been awake for most of the night, the mothers want nothing more than to sleep all day. The cubs on the other hand only have play and suckling on their minds. As always, there were some wonderfully candid moments between the mothers and their offspring.

With prey relatively scare vs the migration season, the cats were forced to do more diurnal hunting than usual. They also were forced to tackle game that they would normally pass over during the more bountiful months. Top of the menu was Warthog. On the face of it, the Warthog looks to be no match for a large cat. Yet it has a surprising turn of pace and the adults have a set of tusks which even the largest of cats needs to be wary of. Moreover, the plains of the Mara are dotted with borrows, hollowed out by a variety of species including Warthogs themselves as well as Hyenas, Jackals, Bat-Eared Foxes and Mongooses. These provide a convenient destination of refuge in the face of advancing predators.

However, as we were to discover, the cats were to prove extremely resourceful when faced with this seemingly insurmountable obstacle.

Late one afternoon, we watched three Lionesses stalk a sub-adult Warthog in the long grass. After a long build-up, one of the Lionesses had managed to get within striking distance without being detected. In a flash she burst out of the curtain of grass, the muscles in her hind quarters straining. The gap had closed to 20 meters before the Warthog realized its predicament. The distance between prey and predator was now such that the Warthog, with the disadvantage of a standing start, had little hope of outpacing the Lioness. Just as it seemed the Warthog must be doomed, it disappeared down a burrow.

The Lioness came to an abrupt halt. The opening was only large enough to accommodate the front half of the Lionesses’ face and this was clearly a deep burrow with the Warthog now deeply ensconced inside. Normally that would have been it with the Lioness admitting defeat. But this was clearly a hungry cat, as were her two companions, who soon joined her.

And so the digging began. Clumps of earth flew up behind the front paws of the cats as the entrance was progressively enlarged. Periodically one of the Lionesses would thrust her face and jaws deep into the burrow in a frenzy of movement. One can only imagine the sheer terror that the Warthog was experiencing as the huge canines of its marauders inched ever closer.

This process lasted for the better part of thirty minutes. Sitting in the vehicle 10 meters away, we began to lose interest to the point where we had lowered our cameras. Just when it seemed that the Warthog would live to fight another day, there was a flurry of movement accompanied firstly by deep growling and then by high pitched squealing. Suddenly one of the Lionesses emerged with its jaws clamped around the Warthog’s windpipe. With the Warthog still very much alive and struggling desperately to extricate itself, the Lioness took off in a gallop anxious to avoid sharing its meal with the others.

After much chasing, the other two Lionesses eventually cornered the Lioness and her quarry. Thankfully the end was swift for the Warthog with all three Lionesses simultaneously administering the final death choke. One sub-adult Warthog however, represents now more than a small appetizer when shared amongst three fully grown Lionesses meaning that they would inevitably be forced into more hunting later that night.

The next day we witnessed a near replicate performance, only this time involving three male Cheetahs and a fully grown Warthog. These were the same three boys that I had spent many hours with over the previous two years and were the ones that featured in the dramatic images when they “kidnapped” a female and aggressively courted her in trying to ascertain whether she was on heat (see the: Animal Behavior, Mammals, section in the gallery section of www.wildencounters.net).

Anyway, after an extended chase by one of the boys, the Warthog disappeared down a burrow. Again, a long period of digging ensued. Eventually, the Warthog was flushed out. But with its flashing tusks, the Cheetahs struggled to get near its throat. One of them however, had firmly sunk its teeth into the Warthog’s back leg. With the Warthog now partially immobilized, the other two moved in for the kill.

As one climbed onto the Warthog’s back, the other twisted its head underneath the neck before clamping down on the throat. But the skin around a Warthog’s throat is thick and leathery making the process of strangulation difficult for a cat with relatively small jaws.

With its golden eyes blazing and its rump heaving, the Cheetah crunched down with maximum effort. The tables were turning and with the Warthog’s air supply chocked off, death appeared an inevitability.

However, alerted by the Warthog’s desperate squealing, a Spotted Hyena suddenly appeared bounding towards the melee in pursuit of an easy meal. Hyenas are master scavengers and whenever possible will select the most easily captured prey. The crushing power of a Hyena’s jaws surpasses that of any of the other cat family members, including lions, and in a fight, Cheetahs would stand little chance. The three boys quickly took flight leaving the Hyena face to face with a groggy looking Warthog.

However, after the briefest of moments and despite a deep bite wound to one of its upper legs, the Warthog took off at top speed seemingly none the worse for its near death experiencing. Perhaps because it was unaccompanied by other clan members; perhaps because it had recently eaten, the Hyena showed no interest in expending any effort to catch the Warthog and sauntered off in the direction it had come from.

A few days later we came upon an adult female cheetah with a sub-adult cub. We had only been with them a few minutes when the mother suddenly stopped, its eyes focused on movement at the edge of a distant river bank. Almost immediately she broke into a trot, gradually accelerating to full speed. A Thomsen’s Gazelle had crossed the river and had been spotted by the Cheetah as it exited the river bank. The Gazelle failed to see the Cheetah until the very last moment by which time it was too late for it to get up any head of speed. The Cheetah tripped the Gazelle’s back legs, sending it sprawling in a swirl of mud and flying grass and almost as quickly, the Cheetah had locked its jaws around the fragile windpipe of the Gazelle.

Clearly hungry, the cub did not even wait for its mother to release her strangle hold, tucking into the hind rump of the Gazelle.

Photography is partly about experimentation; about pushing boundaries and trying new techniques. The advent of the digital era has meant that it is increasingly hard to produce images that are different. One of the simple techniques that I have been looking to exploit is to get really low when shooting images. By this, I mean right down into the grass so that one is actually shooting up at subjects. To do so produces a much more intimate image. While physically lying in the grass may work in certain circumstances, a number of animal species are either too dangerous or too shy to effectively employ this technique.  I have recently had a number of “rock cams” made in China, ie cameras encased in rock like structures with the shutter triggered manually be a wireless transmitter. At the time of this trip, these were not yet ready. However, as a stop gap, I took a monopod to the end of which I attached a camera which in turn had an infrared trigger attached to it. By holding and lowering the monopod out of the vehicle, and by using a wide-angle lens, I was able to produce a series of “bugs eye” images of various animals.

I was able to try out the rock cams with some success recently on snow monkeys in Japan but I am really looking forward to seeing what I can get when I go to the Serengeti in May.

During the wet season in Kenya, many avian species are either more abundant or engaged in activities which you cannot witness at other times of the year. Raptor species were noticeably more evident including Africa’s largest – the Martial Eagle.

The main avian activity witnessed though was nest building. First up is a pair of Secretary birds standing on top of their partially completed nest which in turn rests atop an acacia tree.

The birds would leave the nest at regular intervals to collect twigs and branches from the ground.

For me though, the world’s most extraordinary nest builder has to be the Weaver bird. In East Africa there are forty different types of Weavers but in the Mara, the most commonly encountered is the male Black-Headed Weaver with its distinctive yellow body, black head and red eyes.

You don’t need to be much of a “twitcher” to marvel at the nest building skills of the Weaver. We watched one start from scratch and within a few hours he had almost finished the intricate structure.  The birds tend to favour the hanging branches of Palm or Acacia trees as their anchor point, and these branches often overhang water, mainly because the banks of the water source usually contain the reeds that constitute the nesting material.

The birds fully live up to their name and their nest building technique involves the intricate weaving of these reeds. In the following image, the bird’s nest is at an early stage of completion. You can clearly see the elaborate weaving and knot tying that has been employed to secure the initial reeds onto the downward hanging palm.

Once a reed has been secured to the nest, the Weaver will dart off to procure another reed before quickly returning.

Photographing Weavers is challenging to say the least. Even at the nest, they are never still. Their heads are in constant motion and they twist and turn their bodies incessantly. It is physically impossible to follow them in flight with a long lens such is the acute speed at which they fly. The only feasible technique is to pre-focus on an object (eg the nest), switch the focusing mode to manual, lock-up the camera’s position, fight for as much shutter speed as possible by setting a high ISO (we’re talking at least 1/1,600^th of second), utilize a cable release and concentrate intently on the nest, hoping the bird flies roughly parallel to the plane of the camera. At any indication of movement, press the release. You will end up with lots of pictures showing just the nest and possibly bits of cut-off Weaver. But occasionally, you will get it right as the previous two images show.

When the nest is almost complete, the Weaver will often hang from the bottom of the nest seemingly to test its strength.

Another favorite avian species of mine is the Oxpecker. Oxpeckers share a symbiotic relationship with various grazing mammals especially Buffalo and Giraffes. The Oxpeckers are tolerated by their hosts due to their ability to remove ticks and other parasites from them.

Occasionally they can also been seen opportunistically attempting to catch the numerous attendant flies that swarm around the grazers.  

After a week in the Mara, it was time to make a brief exploratory trip to two of Kenya’s less visited parks, Amboseli and Tsavo West.

Leaving the Mara at 5am we reached Nairobi at 10am and were in Amboseli by 2pm. The roads in Kenya have been improved significantly in recent years, largely due to Mainland Chinese company construction, so travelling by road is no longer the ordeal that it used to be.

Amboseli National Park lies in the south west of Kenya adjacent to the border with Tanzania and on clear days overlooked by Mt. Kilimanjaro. Unfortunately, the snow capped peak remained blanketed with heavy cloud during my stay. The park is best known for its large elephant population, many of which are aged well over 50 years with highly impressive tusks reaching almost to the ground.

While the park may be attractive to the casual visitor, it is pretty much useless to the serious photographer. Like most parks in East Africa, no off road driving is permitted (in contrast to large parts of the Mara – I cannot stress enough that this remains a key attraction of the Mara). Moreover, unlike some of the parks in Tanzania, there simply aren’t enough roads in the park. The result is that one is forever viewing animals in the extreme distance. The only decent encounters with the elephants take place either early in the morning or late afternoon when they are making their daily journey to and from the swamp areas in the middle of the park.

The following image was actually taken outside the park which afforded us a closer vantage point. This was taken using pole cam.

The next picture shows a herd heading into the woodlands after a day in the swamps. A three stop graduated neutral density filter was used to balance the brighter sky area with the darker foreground. Note the size of the tusks on the elephant second from left.

The rest of park was not a total loss and there is some decent bird life including this Red-Knobbed Coot, taken while lying down on the edge of a small lake.

We also had an unusual encounter with a Spitting Cobra which we initially spotted in the grass in close proximity to an Egyptian Goose. At first it looked as if the Cobra would actually go for the Goose. But when the latter eventually spotted the snake it very bravely started to chase it. The Cobra briefly rose up and spread its hood but then quickly turned tail pursued by the squawking Goose. We got a real sense of how quickly a Cobra can move when it wants to and before we had reacted, it was almost up to our vehicle. For a fleeting moment it appeared that the snake might actually try to enter our vehicle. This was probably the quickest I’d ever seen Simon react as he gunned the engine leaving the snake sucking on a cloud of dust and burning rubber.

Sometimes when the game is scarce and photo opportunities scant, one has to be a little more creative and look beyond the obvious. While driving along the edge of one of the park’s lakes, I noticed a clump of reeds and their reflections in what was extremely flat light. I recognized the potential for a minimalist style image which I think turned out reasonably well.

After two nights in Amboseli we made the four hour drive to Tsavo. Tsavo National Park is composed of two parks, East and West and combined, cover the largest land mass of any park in Kenya. The parks are not particularly popular with tourists, a result of the dense vegetation, absence of off road driving and relatively low density of game. But it does contain Mazima Springs and is one of the few remaining places in Kenya where with luck, it is possible to see wild dogs.

I had always wanted to see Mazima Springs after watching, many years ago, Alan & Joan Root’s truly amazing documentary on the place. Mazima is known for its clear waters and large Hippo population. Much of the documentary was filmed underwater using a variety of cages and remote cameras to provide a unique view of the life and habits of Hippos. The footage of a Python being cleaned underwater by shrimp and a remarkable episode of Hippo infanticide represent some of the greatest moments of natural history film making.  

Unfortunately, Mazima was a bit of a letdown. The waters were less than clear, probably the result of recent rains and accompanying run-off into the springs. The Hippo population appeared limited and we spotted just one crocodile.

With little over half a day left in the park, I decided that rather than drive around with the slim possibility of finding Wild Dogs, I should concentrate on what was readily available. And this meant more Weaver birds, although this time a different, albeit slightly less attractive species, the Chestnut Weaver.

This time, I strived for something a little more ambitious, choosing to shot backlit. If anything, the Chestnut Weavers fly even faster and are twitchier than their Black-Headed cousins. So it was wildlife photography at its most challenging. I didn’t get much but these are three of my better attempts.

All in all, early January is an excellent time to visit Kenya although I would restrict any trip to the Mara and possibly Samburu and/or Nakuru.

I’ll post a brief trip report on Japan in a few days.

Made a quick trip up to Taiwan, not really for photography but more to just chill out, eat and visit the hot springs that abound around Taipei. However, Paveena and I did spend a few hours at the town of Yeliu on the north coast of Taiwan and about an hour from Taipei. Yeliu has some unusual, wave-buffeted geological rock formations which have been etched into unusual shapes by a combination of weather and waves.

Like many scenic attractions in Asia, there are too many tourists – in this case, mainly local, to make visiting the area an entirely pleasurable experience. On top of this, we managed to pick the coldest day of the year with intermittent rain and horrible light for photography. Despite these setbacks, we were glad we went and may return in the summer when temperatures are warmer and the light is better. Certainly, there are plenty of photographic opportunities. The following two images, both converted to monochrome, give an idea of the potential of this site.

Antarctica is considered by numerous wildlife photographers to be their Holy Grail. I know that both Paveena and I had been waiting many, many years to go. But to do so requires time and no small amount of money. In my previous job, taking three weeks+ off would have been difficult. However, my current sabbatical status has meant that time is not an issue and indeed this was the first trip that I booked when I realized early in the year that I would be having an extended (permanent?) leave of absence from the drudgery of the financial world. Paveena has a very generous boss who gave her the time off work. Despite the drama that unfolded during the trip – which was to receive international media coverage – both of us can convincingly conclude that this was the best photo trip that we have ever been on. Notwithstanding the future damage to our wallets, it has certainly whetted our appetite for more of the frozen continent.

One of the newer destinations in the Antarctica is Snow Hill. Surrounded by sea ice for most of the year, Snow Hill lies on the eastern side of the Antarctic Peninsula, in the Weddell Sea. In 2004, a breeding colony of 3,000 Emperor Penguin pairs was discovered in this remote location, accessible only by a combination of icebreaking ship and helicopters.

While some Antarctic trips leave from the south island of New Zealand, the majority leave from either Stanley in the Falkland Islands or Ushuaia in Tierra Del Fuego at the very southern tip of South America. Our trip left from the latter. Ushuaia is about as far from Hong Kong as you could get and involves three plane journeys (HK-London-Buenos Aires-Ushuaia). We broke up the journey by spending two nights in Buenos Aires and two nights in Ushuaia.

Ushuaia is a picturesque, windswept town, facing the Beagle Channel and surrounded by snow capped mountains. We spent the first day exploring Tierra Del Fuego National Park and on the second, we climbed up to a glacier, high above the town. In the first image, a cross country skier, with zig zag ski tracks,  can be seen in the lower left (much clearer in a higher resolution version).

 

On day three we boarded the Russian ice breaker, Kapitan Khlebnikov late in the afternoon along with 100 other passengers.   As the sun began to set, we headed down a flat calm Beagle Channel with snow covered mountains on either side.

At around 2am, the ship began to take on an uneasy rolling motion with the pitch steadily intensifying. Loose objects in our cabin crashed against the walls and sleep became impossible. We had entered the Drake passage and now faced two days of “Drake shake” .

The Drake lies between the tip of South America and the Antarctic Peninsula and with no land at these low latitudes to temper the wind, is subject to near constant rough weather. An ice breaking ship has a relatively shallow hull ensuring little stabilization in the face of rolling seas while our eighth floor cabin (above deck) helped to further accentuate the rocking motion.

Next morning, a third of the ship’s passengers failed to show up for breakfast having succumbed to sea sickness. Fortunately, neither Paveena nor I have ever suffered from this debilitating ailment – which has made our scuba diving trips much more enjoyable – but I feel for those that do suffer. While there are pills and patches to help, once you are afflicted there is really very little that you can do other than lie prone in your cabin with your eyes shut.

However, lying in ones cabin was not where you wanted to be given the posse of majestic seabirds that were trailing the ship. These included several species of albatross (Black Browed, Light Mantled Sooty, Southern Royal and Wandering). And for a period in the morning, the sun even came out. The first photo shows a Giant Southern Petrel harassing a Black Browed Albatross; the second, another Black Browed flying above the spume of a breaking wave with a Cape Petrel below it; and the third, a Light Mantled Sooty Albatross, shot using a slow shutter speed (1/30^th) and panning with the bird.

By the afternoon, the sun had disappeared, hidden behind a brooding, charcoal sky. Horizontal rain lashed the decks and the increasingly frigid air was mixed with spray from the mounting seas. Yet still the albatrosses followed the ship, seemingly oblivious to the inclement conditions. They almost looked to be having fun as they glided and swooped down between the crests of breaking waves.

Although our preference is nearly always to go on solo photo trips or in very small numbers where we have total control over what we do each day, this is clearly not possible to a destination such as Antarctica. However, one of the upsides is that you usually get to meet extremely interesting people with similar passions and interests. With due respect to the people I worked with in finance, I cannot tell you how refreshing it is to meet and interact with people with like minded interests – in contrast to those whose sole interests are materialistic in nature and whose conversations seem to be limited to coma inducing topics such as the latest BMW series model or whether the equity risk premium for such and such should be 5.0% or 5.5%.

Among the colorful characters on the boat were Nigel from Cumbria in England, who had cashed in his building business in the UK and now leads wildlife expeditions in Northern Europe and the Arctic areas. Nigel has a special passion for seabirds which has taken him to some of the remotest corners of the globe. Then there was Dave, a specialist aerial cameraman and part of a three man BBC Natural History unit film crew who were joining the trip to film Emperor Penguins for a segment of a new, mega documentary, “The Frozen Planet”. Dave is a former social worker who became a freelance photojournalist covering many of the wars of the 1980s and 1990s in some of the world’s most unforgiving environments (eg Sudan, Iran and Iraq). After being shot at once too often in Sudan, he gravitated towards wildlife film making although the environment in which he has made a name for himself (Antarctica) is every bit as challenging as those that he encountered in his previous job. Listening to his accounts of filming at the Russian base of Vostok (home to the world’s lowest ever recorded temperature: -89 degrees c) where only 10-15 seconds of filming was possible at any one time was really inspiring stuff. Dave has pioneered the use of gyro stabilized aerial photography and was responsible for most of the Antarctic aerial footage in the groundbreaking “Planet Earth” series.

Also onboard was Mark, who along with his wife, are probably the two premier producers at the BBC Natural history unit. He has spent a good deal of the last two years helping to film chimps in places such as the Congo and the Ivory Coast. We were enthralled by his accounts of the various diseases and viruses that he has contracted during his time in the rain forests of these territories. I have a morbid fascination for parasites – well you name it, and Mark’s body has played host to it. My favorite story involved one of his camera men, who shortly after arriving back in the UK following a prolonged stint in West Africa, found that one of his testicles had swelled to the size of a grapefruit. He managed to drive himself to hospital and despite being in extreme discomfort could not resist this gem when the medical staff made their first examination: “Doctor, I think one of my testicles has shrunk”.

Anyway, after another white knuckle ride of a night, the seas began to ease the next morning as we approached the Antarctic Peninsula. Of particular excitement for us, was the appearance of the first sea ice. As we sailed further south, the temperature dropped and icebergs of increasing size began to appear. It’s hard to describe just how beautiful these icebergs are, especially the ones with a turquoise tinge – the result of red light being filtered out by ice that is densely packed together. For me, even if we had seen zero wildlife, the trip would have been made by the ice.

In the above picture, you may just be able to pick out the Cape Petrels in the bottom left and right of the picture (again much clearer on a high resolution version) which helps to give some sense of scale to these icebergs.

As the day progressed, the sun came out, the clouds disappeared, the wind dropped and the sea turned mirror calm. Without question, this was the most stunning landscape that Paveena and I had ever encountered.

As the day lengthened (the sun was now setting at 11pm and rising at 3am) and as the ship pushed steadily south, the sea ice began to increase. Our ship was now doing what she was designed for: breaking ice. The next picture shows one variety – pancake ice.

At 4am the next day, Paveena and I were back on deck along with a few other dedicated photographers. With the temperature at -10 degrees centigrade and the wind chill in the mid-20s, we were now dressed like Michelin men – thermal undergarments , fleeces, 800-fill down jackets with hood, wool hats, neck warmers which we pulled up to cover our mouths and noses,  gloves and mitts. The latter have to come off to operate a camera leaving only a thin pair of gloves underneath. And this turned out to be the biggest photographic challenge of the trip – keeping the ends of one’s digits sufficiently warm to use a camera.

Fine weather rarely lasts more than a day or two in the Antarctic and the new day found dark clouds ringing the horizon. A pale, yellow sun was rapidly fading but did briefly provide some beautiful lighting conditions.

Soon though the light turned monochromatic, the effect of which can be seen in the next image. This looks like a doctored photo (eg photo shopped with the colour removed) but this is pretty much straight out of the camera with minimal processing.

As we neared our destination (12-15 miles from Snow Hill), we began to encounter thick pack ice. At the same time we were seeing more and more wildlife, especially penguins. We were especially thrilled to see our first Emperors. Again, this next image looks much better as a high res photo with the penguins standing out more clearly.

An announcement was made shortly thereafter that we had reached our “garage”. The captain literally parked the ship in some fairly solid pack ice and this was to be our home for the next four days. The bad news was that visibility had dropped with little delineation between land and sky and hence, at least for today, we would be unable to reach Snow Hill by the two Russian helicopters that the ship carried. The good news though, was that we would be able to get off the ship onto the surrounding ice. We were already seeing periodic lines of Emperor Penguins returning from fishing trips to the Penguin rookery.

By the time we got off the ship in mid-afternoon, blizzard like conditions had set in and it had become seriously cold. After two hours out on the ice, my fingers had become so frozen and numb to the point where I could no longer push the shutter button of my camera. At one point I was reduced to using my little pinkie as this was the only digit that was responding to my efforts to perform the simple task of depressing the shutter. However, despite the pain that I suffered when my fingers began to warm up back on the ship – indicative that frost bite would have begun to set in had I stayed out much longer without my thick mitts – it was a thrilling experience to get our first on the ice, face to face encounters with penguins.

While Penguins look almost comical when they walk in their distinctive waddle style, most of their ice travelling is done toboggan style, on their bellies using their hind legs and side flippers to propel them. They are surprisingly fast when they adopt this method which is just as well given the round trip of some 30 miles to and from the rookery.

Aside from the Emperors, there were also a few Adele penguins on display also showing off their toboggening skills.

Paveena stayed with the BBC film crew and took this picture of Dave filming a curious Emperor in near white-out conditions.

We awoke the next day to a continuation of the blizzard conditions. These prevailed all day ruling out any possibility of reaching Snow Hill. However, we were able to get down on the ice again. In addition, the captain had run the propellers at the stern of the ship to create an open patch of water. As the only piece of open water for several hundred meters, this attracted a plethora of wildlife including Minke whales, Crab eater seals and Emperor Penguins. The penguins were now using this stretch of water to launch themselves onto the ice as the starting point for their long march back to the rookery.

We were again able to spend time of the ice. Here is an inquisitive Crab eater seal…

…and more Emperors huddled together during a brief stop on their journey back to the rookery.

 The third day at the “garage” found the weather, if anything, even worse than the previous two days. Any possibility of reaching Snow Hill was thwarted. It was also noticeable that the incessant wind had blown more and more pack ice in our direction. Save for the small opening at the back of the ship – kept open by periodic churning of the ship’s propellers – all site of open water had now disappeared. We were well and truly wedged into the ice.

At mid-morning on the fourth day at the garage, with weather conditions unchanged from the previous day, all of the guests were summoned to the ship’s auditorium. The leader of the expedition informed us that he had been called to the ship’s bridge early in the morning by the captain. The latter had shown him a series of short and long range weather forecasts and satellite maps of current and forecast weather conditions. The news was not good. A new storm system was closing in on our position and we must try to leave immediately before more pack ice was blown our way.

A mood of despondency hung over the ship as the realization dawned that the chances of reaching the rookery were now exceedingly slim. In eleven trips to Snow Hill, this would mark the first time that passengers had failed to reach the rookery for at least one day. The plan was instead to reach some of the Weddell Sea islands where colonies of other species of penguins existed. Ordinarily, this would have still been an exciting prospect but given the alternative that we now looked to be giving up – 3,000 breeding pairs of Emperor penguins with their impossibly cute chicks – it was hard not feel let down.

Shortly thereafter, the ship’s engines started up and we began to reverse through the ice. Progress though was pitifully slow and after four hours, we had limped no more than 300 meters. At this point, the engines were switched off and we came to a halt before more pack ice quickly drifted in and secured us tightly on all side. An announcement then came over the ship’s intercom that the main rudder had developed a problem and would need to be fixed.

This took another 4-5 hours. An attempt was made to exit our position but to no avail. Not only had the prevailing winds blown several kilometers of pack ice in our direction rendering us well and truly stuck, but visibility had dropped to less than 50 meters. This made it impossible for the captain to see and locate possible leads in the ice that would lead to open water or easier ice conditions.

That evening we were told that until the current south-westerly winds changed direction, which in turn would loosen the pack-ice, the ship was effectively immobilized. Disturbingly, we were informed that it could be 4-5 days before the winds turned. Moreover, the ice that now lay around the immediate vicinity of the ship was deemed to be unstable, ruling out any further ice excursions.

Late in the evening, visibility did improve, but the wind and snow showed no sign of letting up. This next image was taken from our cabin window using flash set to rear curtain-sync. The effect is to give the falling snow a meteor like effect.

For the next three days, weather conditions remained unchanged. We settled into a pattern of sleeping, eating vast quantities of food and occasionally venturing outside to view the numerous seals that lay about the ice in close proximity to the ship and to watch the lines of penguins on their seemingly endless round trips to the rookery. Avian life had all but disappeared save for several beautiful snow petrels that spent long hours circling the ship.

By now a mood of resignation had settled among the passengers. Not only were we going to miss our arrival date back to Ushuaia with resultant flight booking chaos but when we did break free of the ice, we would need to sail directly back to port thereby making any wildlife landings in other areas impossible. Gallows humor became the order of the day. Mock plans for seal hunting expeditions were drawn up and it was noted that our current location was within a day’s sailing of the spot where Shackleton’s ship “Endurance” had succumbed to pack ice (the additional irony being that a cousin of his was on board as a lecturer).

At an evening gathering of the passengers, the expedition leaders informed us that our predicament had now reached the attention of the international media who clearly were looking for a story of drama. As it was, we were in absolutely no danger; had food to last well over a month and had a truly first class crew to look after us.

The fourth day in our existing position saw a drop in the wind and a noticeable improvement in visibility. At lunch time it was announced that while conditions were such that reaching Snow Hill by helicopter was still impossible, it would be possible to make some short sight-seeing trips using the helicopters. We were split into 8 groups with each group enjoying  15-20 minutes in the air.

The next day again saw light winds and increasingly improving visibility. While the wind direction had begun to swing around, it was not yet at sufficient strength to blow the pack ice away from the ship. Then, late in the morning, with the sun beginning to peak out, came the announcement that we had not dreamed possible: the helicopters were now ready to fly to Snow Hill! Hardly anyone cared that due to the late departure, each group would have no more than 75 minutes at the rookery after allowing for a 60-90 minute round trip commute from the landing site to the rookery.

Our group was the second last to depart. This turned out to be a stroke of good fortune. By the time we departed it was 4.30pm. The white, featureless sky had given way to a brilliant blue and lighting conditions for photography promised to be excellent as the sun sunk lower.

After 15 minutes in the air, flying over a stunning landscape of iceberg dotted ice, we spotted the rookery which can be seen in the upper left of the following image. The track marks are the trails used by the Emperors to travel to/from the rookery.

The landing site is located a little over a mile from the rookery and hidden behind a large iceberg in order to minimise disturbance to the penguins. A mile might not seem like a lot, but with a heavy pack containing all of one’s photographic equipment and snow that varied from 3 inches to 3 feet in depth, the going was arduous. A number of older and out of shape passengers were told to turn back after it was decided by the expedition staff that they were taking too long to complete the walk (the logic being that they would have little or no time at the rookery if they were to make the return journey in time to board their pre-assigned helicopter).

Being finely tuned athletes (mmmm) meant that the walk proved little trouble for Paveena and I although by the time I reached the rookery, I was sweating buckets and had stripped down to a thin thermal under layer.

Like many of my fellow passengers, I was gripped by a sense of panic upon reaching the rookery. I had a little over one hour but what was I to take pictures of? It might seem difficult to understand, but while the possibilities seemed endless, where to start was the problem. I might never get back here. Should I stick to one spot,  bide my time and try and get 1-2 decent pics or should I simply adopt a scattershot approach and try to get some images just to have a record that I was here? In the end, it seemed as if I did neither and aside from the following wide-angle image of the colony, I pretty much came away with nothing acceptable.

Still, as I waited for our helicopter to take us back to the ship, it was hard not to have a feeling of euphoria at having finally made it.

 But things were to get even better. At 6am the next morning the following announcement came over the ship’s intercom: “Well the bad news is that winds remain light with no change in the pack ice conditions, so we remain firmly fastened in the ice…but the good news is that there is not a cloud in the sky which means…a full day at Snow Hill!”.

You’ve never seen two people out of bed quicker that morning. By 8am we were on our helicopter flying towards Snow Hill. The walk in was easier today as the snow on the “path” to the colony had been packed in following the numerous passengers that had traversed the route the previous day. Knowing that we would have plenty of time at the rookery, we took our time getting there. This allowed us to photograph some of the penguins heading back to the rookery as well as some of the amazing ice formations along the route.

 Once at the rookery, we felt none of the pressure of the previous day. For us, the most enjoyable days photographing wildlife are when you have plenty of time to simply sit and observe the wildlife. Once you get familiar with the behavior of the animals, your photos inevitably improve too.

Although we were all told to keep a respectable distance from the penguins, they would often approach us to within touching distance. I used my wide angle lens just as much as the telephoto one.

One of the difficult aspects of photographing the rookery with a telephoto lens is isolating your subject with a relatively clean background. It took a fair amount of patience, but the shots of the chicks interacting with adults (read: begging for food) eventually came together.

On our way back to the helicopter in late afternoon, I spied a single Emperor leaving the rookery. As it proceeded up a small hill, I positioned myself on the other side, where I noticed a series of tracks left by other penguins leading up to the top of the hill. The image turned out to be my favorite of the trip.

That evening, as the sun was setting, the sea ice surrounding the ship became enveloped in a layer of fog. The setting and the colours were the perfect way to round off probably the greatest day of wildlife viewing and photography that Paveena and I have ever had.

The next day produced yet another cloudless sky although the winds were beginning to strengthen. We were told that we would be able to get a half day in at the rookery. However, about a quarter of the passengers didn’t make it due to a combination of severe sunburn and snow blindness. The Antarctic peninsula sits right under the ozone hole and when combined with the highly reflective snow and ice, produces UV rays of incredible intensity – far greater than anything that I have experienced for instance in the various deserts of Africa that I have visited. 90% of passengers (and crew) suffered sunburn of varying intensities despite the use of very high factor sun cream. While my face was not too bad, my neck suffered badly and for 2 days had the appearance of a 2^nd or 3^rd degree fire burn. Even more unfortunate were those that had taken off their sunglasses for long periods. They now had extremely sore eyes with the only respite being to lie in a darkened cabin preferably with closed eyes.

After applying layers of factor 70 cream and covering up most exposed skin (fortunately it was a little cooler today), we were back at the rookery. Again, it was another fantastic few hours that passed all too quickly.

While penguins face many predators in the water, eg Orca whales and Leopard seals, their only real threat on land – and the threat is only to smaller chicks – comes from Skuas: large, voracious birds found in lower latitudes. I missed the shot of a lifetime when a Skua flew right by me with a penguin chick in its mouth. Here’s one minus a chick.

As the dawn broke the following day at 3am, the engines started up and the ship began the slow process of extracting itself from the ice. We were told that a change in and a strengthening of the wind had dispersed some of the pack ice although to the untrained eye there appeared little improvement. At first we made very little progress but with the visibility still good, the captain was able to use the ship’s helicopter to reconnoiter for leads in the ice.

As the day passed our progress improved. The ice thinned out and we began to get into stretches of open water. With the onset of evening, we finally reached unbroken open water.

The Drake passage was hit that night with seas that were even worse than the outward passage. Sleep was nigh impossible. Fortunately, with the ship sailing at full speed, we entered calmer waters by the following evening and by night had entered the flat calm Beagle channel. In the early hours of the morning we docked at Ushuaia.

All in all, it had been an unbelievable trip; something that will remain long in our memories. We are already scouring the web for another voyage to the Antarctic next year,

A final mention should go to the expedition organizers, Quark and Exodus. Both were extremely professional in handling the rebooking of flights etc. Quark even chartered an entire aircraft to take us back to Buenos Aires and provided accommodation in a 5 star hotel in the city at zero cost to us. We would unequivocally recommend them to anyone that is contemplating a polar trip.

Finally a picture of Paveena, framed against a beautiful iceberg at the helicopter landing site near to Snow Hill. As you can see from her clothing, she was anxious that I did not lose sight of her….

A quick post as i am rushing to pack for an Antarctic trip which Paveena and I leave for tonight. Last week we were in Jiuzhaigou in China – the trip planned to coincide with peak Autumn foliage. As it turned out, we were a week or two early (the impact of global warming no doubt) but whatever the time of the year, this is a truely spectacular place. China may have eaten all its wildlife (anyone who watched the BBC production last year, “Wild China” will have seen how the producers really struggled to find any wildlife), but it still has some of the world’s most stunning scenery and Jiuzhaigou is right up there. Yes, you will have to to deal with throngs of mainlanders with positively appalling manners and taxi drivers on the way to the park with “death wish” stamped to their heads, but this is a destination not to be missed. It clearly has not been discovered yet by westerners with no more than a handful spotted over six days. I’ll post some more pics later, but here’s a taste of what’s on offer.

I started this trip by flying north with my friend Christian of Yellow Wings in one of his Cessnas. The purpose was to undertake aerial photography of the Turkana region and visit some of the Desanech tribes near the Ethiopian border.

The trip started on an eventful note. I arrived at Wilson (the domestic airport), went through security and seeing a Yellow Wings plane with a pilot in it parked a short distance from the main building, proceeded to walk towards it (as I had done on previous occasions). I had only gone 10m when I felt a hand on my shoulder, turned round, to find an angry looking local policeman brandishing a large truncheon.

“Where are you going?”

“ To get my charter over there”

“ You are crossing a restricted area. You have committed an offence. Come with me”

Reluctantly, I followed him back to the outside of the terminal building.

“Sit down. I am going to have to take you to the police station. Your flight will be cancelled”.

At this stage, I began to get worried. I knew that I had done nothing wrong but I knew that he held all the power and that the best approach was the humble, apologetic one. I also knew that it would not be long before he openly solicited a bribe from me.

Sure enough:

“What can you do for me? You are in serious trouble – things can get very bad for you. Give me your passport”. His tone continued to be hostile.

“We will wait for my pilot”. This was not the answer he wanted to hear but it was the right one.

The pilot of the Yellow Wing plane then came over to us. It was not Christian but I recognized him as one of Christian’s employees. I explained what had happened. We both knew what this was all about. The pilot talked with the policeman in Swahili. The conversation got steadily more agitated and I could tell that a standoff was in place.

A ground staff member then came over and joined in; kindly arguing my case. I could start to see that my policeman friend knew that his chances of extracting a bribe were looking slimmer and when Christian appeared in his plane, the policeman turned to me and said.

“ You are very lucky. I am going to let you go”.

Such are the workings of Kenya’s law and order. Corruption remains an endemic feature of the country.

After this bit of entertainment, I hopped in the plane, proceeding north for around 75 minutes. We then landed at a small dusty airstrip; removed the doors on the right hand side of the plane and headed for one of the world’s great scenic wonders – Lake Logipi. This was my third aerial trip to the lake but each time conditions have been different because of changing rainfall patterns.

Logipi lies just south of Lake Turkana. It is a seasonal soda lake and sits within the Great Rift Valley in an area dominated by ancient volcanic features. It also attracts large numbers of water birds, in particular, Lesser Flamingos.

Kenya is in the gripes of a prolonged drought which has been especially severe in the northern part of the country. As we approached Logipi, I could see that the vast majority of the lake was dry, with the lake bed blindingly white in colour in many parts. Even from a few hundred meters above ground, the heat being reflected off the lake bed was extreme. However, pockets of shallow water were still evident. This first two photos show a volcanic island on one side of the lake. It is normally surrounded by water but currently there is only a small covering on one side of the island. Even from a far distance though, I could see the familiar pink shapes of flamingos grouped tightly together.

A layer of brown silt sits beneath the shallow water. Black mud lies below the silt. When the flamingos walk or run, the silt is swept aside leaving black mud trails.

After Logipi, we headed north to the southern end of Lake Turkana. We made a quick circle of the volcanic South Island….

…before heading along the south shore of the lake, passing the perfectly formed caldera of Nabuyatom volcanoe. Lake Turkana is not called the Jade Sea for nothing.

A little further on we landed at the town of Loiyangalani. We would base ourselves at nearby Oasis Lodge for the next two nights. Once a popular getaway for Kenya’s expatriate population, today it is dilapidated and badly in need of an upgrade. It is run by a near permanently drunk although amicable German. I had stayed here before and despite its faded state, loved the place. Yes, the accommodation is basic and at night hurricane force winds blow through the date palms making ear plugs obligatory if you want to get any sleep. But it has the world’s greatest swimming pool – fed by a natural hot spring – and the food is fantastic. The lodge only receives a handful of guests each month. In my three visits there have never been any other guests.

In the late afternoon I made a 30 minute drive to a Turkana tribe village on the edge of the lake. I hired a boat and motored around a nearby island which is sometimes inhabited by the El-Molo tribe. I was surprised to find some Greater Flamingos in the shallows. I watched them for several minutes from the boat before they took flight. As they did so, I managed to get one decent shot of them framed against Mount Kulal on the South East shore of Turkana.

The El-Molo village which I planned to visit had moved to a more distant part of the nearby island. With fuel running low, we decided to head back to the Turkana village. As the sun began to set, I took a number of portrait pictures of the local people in beautiful light.

Early the next morning, I was back in the Cessna, flying further north. Half way up the east coast of the lake we cut across to the other side crossing over Central Island.

We then flew up the west coast before reaching the Omo river delta at the top of the lake. By this stage we had crossed into Ethiopian airspace. The contrast between the barren, desert scrub of most of the land that surrounds Turkana and the lush, green vegetation of the delta region could not have been more marked.

As we turned south again, flying a circuitous route, the landscape quickly morphed back to the parched yellows and browns of rock and sand. Our destination was Ileret, a small, desolate town of searing heat. As we approached the town, I could see some of the Desanech villages that I planned to visit.

We still had to find a vehicle to take us to the villages. So we rocked up to the local Catholic mission, had some tea and shot the breeze with the resident padre (a German Count no less) and soon we had managed to commandeer an antiquated 1950’s Russian equivalent of the Jeep complete with driver and translator.

After around 30 minutes, we reached the first village. It was sparsely populated, with few males in sight. Two things immediately struck me: firstly, how on earth could any human being survive up here? The heat is unbelievable; there is no fresh water supply other than the highly alkaline lake water (which forms the only drinking source for these people) and the only food available is fish and the occasional bit of goat. The village huts were a mix of basic and extremely basic and appeared to offer very little respite from the elements. The second feature that was hard to miss was how good looking the Desanech are.

We visited two more villages, both also seemingly inhabited mainly by young girls and boys. Unlike my visits to other tribes in Kenya, it was refreshing not to be besieged by requests for money in exchange for having their photos taken. They appeared more than happy when I was able to give them some Polaroid pictures of themselves (if you can get your hands on a Polaroid camera and some film, it is a truly wonderful accessory to have in the company of the world’s more remotely located people).

In the late afternoon, we headed back down the eastern shore of the lake, back to our base at the south end. On the way we passed over more surreal landscapes.

After another evening in Oasis Lodge’s amazing swimming pool, followed by the world’s greatest fish cakes and more tornado force winds, we packed up for good and were in the plane by 7am with the doors removed.

We again headed for the magical lake that is Logipi.

When large numbers of Lesser Flamingos fly together, they often form unusual shapes and patterns which I am always on the look out to photograph (Paveena has a cracker from a previous aerial trip to Logipi of flamingos in a near perfect heart shape – see the gallery section – Animals in the environment – birds).

What do you see? A mushroom?

…a devil’s tail?

From Logipi, we proceeded down the Suguta valley, home to some amazing volcanic features.

We then flew on past Lake Boringo before passing over Lake Bogoria. One can never be sure as to which of the Rift Valley’s soda lakes the majority of flamingos will congregate on; currently they seem to have a preference for Bogoria.

The next picture shows large groups of flamingos gathered near Bogoria’s hot water geysers.

From Bogoria, we made the short hop to Lake Nakuru (very few flamingos here at present) where we landed to put the doors back on before carrying onto Nairobi.

After a night in Nairobi, it was up early the next morning for my charter to the Mara. As with my August trip, I again found the trip to be less productive photographically than in previous years. The migration has been sporadic this year with an absence of huge herds and river crossings. The lack of rainfall in Kenya has been the main factor.

Still, it would be hard to spend eight days in the Mara and not come away with a few acceptable images such is the density and variety of predators and game. I am often asked why I keep returning (“don’t you get bored? etc”). The answer is that every day is different – everyday you see new sights and animal behavior and even on a slow day, there really is nowhere else that provides the wildlife photographic opportunities that the Mara does.

On this Mara trip, I again spent most of the time near the river crossings as well as a few early mornings with a pride of lions that contained several young cubs. But as always, there were plenty of chance and planned encounters with other species.

Here is a Temmink’s Stint walking on the back of a Hippo…

…a deliberate heavily underexposed shot of a Hammercop with a Catfish in its bill (my aim was to just have rim light showing)…

…Elephants under a beautiful sunset lit cloud with the moon above it…

… a half asleep baby Zebra watch by its mum (the picture was achieved by hanging the camera with a wide-angle lens over the side of the vehicle to gain the low perspective…

…elephants silhouetted against a red dawn sky…

…and a black & white shot late one afternoon…

…and one of my favorites from the trip: a moody, late afternoon shot of a Zebra in the Mara river. Again deliberate underexposure, helped blacken the already dark background. A further half stop of light was removed in the post production process.

As I noted from the August trip report, the lack of rainfall has meant that water levels in the  Mara river are much lower than normal. While this makes the actual river crossings much less spectacular (in most spots the animals can walk across in a few feet of water), it does result in some extraordinarily lengthy crocodile attacks given that a quick, simply drowning is no longer possible much of the time.

Lions, for the most part are pretty boring. They sleep up to 18 hours a day and generally hunt at night. However, when a pride has young cubs, photographic opportunities tend to abound when they are active and playful in the early mornings and late afternoons. While the weather was not very cooperative on this trip (ie little early morning/end of the day golden light) and long grass was a constant challenge, there were still a few great photographic moments.

All in all, even when the Mara seems relatively slow, it still delivers. I certainly plan to return again next year.

Back in the Mara for what must be something like my 25-30^th trip in 13 years.

I started off with an aerial photographic flight – single engine Cessna with the doors removed on one side – from Nairobi via Lake Natron – most of which lies in Tanzania, before proceeding onto the Mara.

East Africa has been experiencing a fairly severe drought and Lake Natron, which even in normal times is covered by only a few feet of water, was about 80% dry. This meant that Flamingo numbers were well down on normal levels. The first photo shows one of the few areas of water with attendant Lesser Flamingos “grazing” in the shallows.

Here is a shot of one of the river systems that feeds the lake and amply illustrates the starkness of the surrounding shore area.

What’s this next picture? An abstract oil painting? To me, this is what it looks like. In fact, the red in the picture comprises an algae bloom (the stuff that flamingos feed on) while the white  is made up of sodium deposits. For photography, the best combination occurs, when the lake bed is covered by a thin covering of water. This results in amazing deep red colours. Examples of this can be seen in the “Landscapes” category (sub-category,  “Africa”)  in the picture gallery of www.wildencounters.net

Onto the Mara. As we flew in from the south, I could see a few decent sized herds of Wildebeest but nothing like what one normally witnesses at this time of the year. As it turned out, the drought has certainly effected this year’s migration. The herds arrived earlier than normal into the Mara (early July) and some have moved back into Tanzania already. Still, the migration is a fickle thing and a few days of heavy rain in the Mara could see large numbers return. During my 12 day stay, it was bone dry for the first week but we then had quite heavy rain in the late afternoons for the duration of the trip. It will be interesting to see what the state of the migration is like when I return in late September but as of late August, numbers are well down on normal levels.

Fewer numbers of herbivores meant that the chances of seeing predatory behavior by the big cats were diminished. Another surprise was that the cats had far fewer young than normal (a possible consequence of the drought). Normally, it has been a simple case of finding one of the cat species (cheetahs, lions or leopards) that have young and sticking with them for a good part of the day. While adult cats sleep or rest during the day, cubs are much more likely to be playing or interacting with their family members, hence providing plenty of photo opportunities. In addition, the presence of young cubs typically increases the frequency with which adults will hunt.  All in all, photographic opportunities were not as abundant and easy as over the last several migratory seasons.

 There were however plenty of male lions around and although I failed to witness any really interesting activity, save for some half-hearted stalking, I made the most of some good lighting conditions to take photos of the lions in their environment.

Most visitors put away their camera equipment when it starts raining. Mine immediately comes out. The pro camera bodies and lenses these days are extremely water resistant and when paired with a protective rain cover, there is little danger to one’s equipment.

We did find one Lion pride with three young cubs although pictures were difficult due to the long grass and the Croton bushes in which the cubs were hidden. However, one afternoon the adults killed a Zebra in a dry river bed where I was able to get decent views of the cubs cavorting on the Zebra carcass.

Aside from the Lions, I had a good session with a Spotted Hyena carrying her pups…

…a young adult Leopard hunting a hare…

…and a Black-Backed Jackle carrying a Thomson’s Gazelle kill.

As usual there were plenty of bird photo opportunities. These included an Eastern Pale Chanting Goshawk taking off from a tree…

…and a portrait shot of one of my favourites: a Saddle-Bill Stork.

After a day or two, I worked out with my guide that we should spend most of our time at the Mara river. Small herds of Wildebeest and Zebras were crossing the river at well-used crossing points on a fairly regular basis. While the small numbers and low water level meant that the actual crossings were not nearly as spectacular as normal, this was made for by some tremendous croc action.

Normally, the crocs will dispatch of Wildebeest and Zebras crossing the river by pulling them under the water until they drown. With the low water levels however, this was no longer a straight forward option. As a result I witnessed some epic struggles, one of which went on for the better part of 30 minutes.

The Nile Crocodiles that reside in the Mara river are the stuff of nightmares. Some have grown to monster proportions with jaws that can easily crush skulls and bones.

“Pretty” and “beautiful” are not adjectives commonly used to describe crocs but I have to admit to a certain fondness for them and in the early morning light, their golden-yellow scales take on a resplendent sheen.

As usual, the build-up to most crossings is a drawn-out affair, with the Wildebeest and Zebras very tentatively approaching the water, usually drinking first and often being spooked by the smallest movement or noise, be it real or imaginary. Their caution is well founded as the following picture illustrates.

But once one goes, the herd mentality takes over and the others pile in. As the numbers crossing this year at any one time were small, I concentrated my picture taking on individuals rather than going for a wider view.

All of the Wildebeest in these pictures made it safely across. Others were not so fortunate…

Hopefully, by the end of September, the migration will have returned in force to the Mara and that more of the cats will have young. Olive, the very successful female leopard that occupies a stretch of the Talek river, has recently been seen with two young cubs while a female cheetah with three young cubs has recently moved into a nearby area. So fingers crossed for the end this month.

Made a quick trip to Ireland to see the family with Paveena and my daughter Kyrah in tow. Surprise, surprise it was cold and wet pretty much the entire time we were there. We did manage to catch the second night of U2 at Croke Park which was fantastic although probably not quite as good as the last time we saw them on their previous tour (Tokyo). Will still definitely try to see them if they announce Japan or other Asian venues. Worth going to see just for the “Claw” – the futuristic stage set reportedly costing in excess of US$100m. Here i am with the Mrs at the venue.

Anyway we then headed over to the West of Ireland with my two brothers and their families. The landscape is very pretty if you get a break from the horizontal rain. We ate a ridiculous amount of food and it’s a wonder that anyone lives over the age of 50 in these parts. The attrocious weather (remember this is summer) dictates that life is spent indoors and hence involves an endless two way commute between one’s residence and the pub. Locals appear to while away their entire lives in the pub. It’s great for a few days but several decades seems extreme.

 One morning, the sun appeared. Everyone rushed out of the house to witness this rare event. However, while the others remained transfixed, i quickly discerned that there was no appreciable change in temperature and headed back to the one warm place in the 200 year old seaside house in which we were staying – bed. But i was roused about 30 minutes later by the sound of screaming and splashing. My daugher and her equally mad cousins had decided to throw themselves off the local pier into the arctic waters (i wanted to include the icebergs in the pic below but they were just out of frame).

All in all it was a fun, if cold and fattening holiday and it was good to catch up with all the family. I leave you with some of the few nature photos i took on the trip. I have processed them in black & white as i think it best captures the wild, moody landscape.

 Heading off to my favourite wildlife destination tomorrow for two weeks – the Masai Mara in Kenya. More soon….

While most visitors to Tahiti head for the romance centres of Bora Bora and Moorea, i was in search of sharks and that meant two possible destinations: Rongiroa and a remoter, less well known atoll – (in order not to make this location public to potential fishermen, I am not disclosing the exact location). On this trip i chose the latter – it is a little wilder and reportedly has greater shark numbers.

 Despite its honeymoon status, Tahiti has surprisingly few international flight connections: your choice is either Los Angeles or Australia/NZ. So from Hong Kong, i took an overnight flight to Auckland; spent the day in a motel there and then took an evening flight to Papetee, the capital of Tahiti. This flight (5 hours)arrived at the pleasent hour of 2.45am. Hence another overnight stay was required before i could take a lunchtime flight to my chosen destination.

 In Tahiti you have two choices of accomodation: outrageously priced five star hotels/resorts or more modestly priced and much better value “pensions”. These are typically small, chalet style accomodations.

My choice of pension on the atoll was situated right on the beach overlooking a stunning lagoon. While it was hot at night (no fan or aircon) and lacked hot water, these were minor inconveniences as the room was large and clean, the location great and the food outstanding.

One aspect of Tahiti that first time vistors may have overlooked: it is extremely French. From the baguettes & croissants at breakfast to the extremely limited English spoken by all inhabitants including westerners, you could be foregiven for thinking that you were deep in Provence were it not for the coconut palms, talcum powder sand and turquoise waters. So if you have issues with the French, this may not be the destination for you.

 To be fair, most of the people i met were perfectly hospitable and most importantly of all, you have to give the French a lot of credit for protecting the environment and especially the marine environment so well.

The atoll is a protected biosphere Reserve and proof of the effectiveness of this status can quickly be seen in its extremely healthy shark population. It is extremely rare nowadays to find shark numbers of the kind that you will encounter in the atoll’s two passes.

The atoll comprises a circular atoll which surrounds a large lagoon. The atoll is 60km in length but no more than a few hundred meters wide and maximum elevation is only a few meters – so like so many Pacific atolls, it might not be around in 50 years. The lagoon covers an area of more than 1,000km meaning that once you get any sort of distance out from the beach, it feels like you are in open ocean especially when the trade winds blow and white caps start appearing.

While there is some decent snorkling to be had off the beach, there are only two places to dive in the atoll – at its two passes. As these are a long way apart, the location of your accomodation and dive operator will determine where you dive. As much of the accomodation is located around one of the passes, most of the diving takes place at this pass. However, the dive operators will usually make a once a week excursion to the other pass. This pass is not to be missed and if i returned, i would base myself at one of the few pensions located near to this pass. What this more remote pass lacks in variety vs the other one, it more than makes up for in the form of its spectacular shark population. And as it turned out, i was incredibly lucky in the timing of my one day visit to the more remote pass.

Every year, for just one day, coinciding with a full moon, the mother of all fish spawnings takes place – this one involving a species of grouper known as the Camouflage Grouper.

 I had vaguely been aware of this event but never expected to encounter it. When i did, it took me a while to process what i was witnessing, for as far as the eye could see, and visibility was excellent save for the milky clouds of fish spawn in certain areas, there were thousands upon thousands of gropers.

But what made the scene even more amazing were the legions of sharks cruising among the gropers. At the beginning of the first dive i saw several gropers taken by sharks but as the actual act of catching would happen so quickly and haphazardly, it was impossible to capture on camera. Still, in close to 2,000 dives, this was surely the most spectacular underwater wildlife event that i had witnessed.

The dives at the remoter pass, as with most of the diving in the atoll, comprises drift diving. After we had left the Groupers (which were at 25-20m), we drifted back along the famous “wall of sharks” where we were greeted by hundreds of sharks coming in the other direction (ie towards us). It is not just grey reef sharks that you will encounter: silver tips, lemon, grey nurse and a shark the locals refer to as “ze big nose shark” (more commonly known as the Pointed Nose shark), are all seen and if you are lucky, the occasional tiger or hammerhead.

The dive ends with a shore exit at a beautiful cove, fronted by a small beach. In the shallows, Black Tip Reef sharks and surprisingly, several good sized Napoleon Wrasses cruise, all of which are relatively tame, due to regular hand feeding by local fishermen.

After a one hour surface interval, we were back in the water for a second dive. The Groupers were still all there but the spawning activity had ceased and the shark numbers among the fish had diminished and no predation witnessed. As i was outfitted with my 16-35mm zoom lens (an excellent shark lens), I regretted not having my 15mm fisheye or 14mm lens which would have better captured the immense size of the spawning mass. I also feel i could have done a better job with exposures and composition, but this tends to nearly always be the case underwater when you encounter something rare.

On subsequent days, i dived the other, more accessible pass. One is restricted to two dives a day because dives can only be made on incoming currents. After the excitement of the remoter pass, some of the dive sites at the other pass seemed a little anti-climactic but i did encounter sharks in good numbers, saw three manta rays spinning in circles (not quite close enough for pics) and had regular boat encounters with dolphins. In the afternoon, we regularly returned to a bowl shaped site at the end of a long canyon. This is another drift dive where you start off with sharks and then drift along a canyon which ends in a sandy patch where huge schools of fish reside. Of these, there is a particular large school of Yellowfin Goatfish.

Clearly, the spawning Groupers made the trip but even without this, this atoll rates as a top dive dive destination mainly because of its huge shark population. One just hopes that the French continue to do the excellent job they have been in protecting the place. It will only take one Taiwanese or PRC long liner to come into the passes under the cover of night to decimate the place.

On my way back from Tahiti, i made a brief stop in the northern Tongan island of Haapai. The goal here was to try and snorkle with Humpback whales which migrate from their summer feeding grounds in the Antartica to give birth to their calves in the warmer, calmer waters of the South Pacific. Humpback whales can be seen in several locations in this wide area, but Tonga is one of the few locations where you can legally snorkle with them, albeit under strict supervision.

Historically, the more northern isle of Vava’u has been the place to go but this has become overrun with operators resulting in a ridiculous outcome where boats now queue to offload snorklers into the water. Haapai has just one operator.

Normally the whales arrive in June and stay until October but this year they have been exceptionally late. As a result, while i enjoyed my days out on the operator’s catamaran looking for whales, i only had one in-water encounter.

However, although it was brief (around 90 seconds), the whale approached very close (intially there were two) and it was a truely amazing, humbling experience. As testament to this, one of the other four snorklers broke down in tears on the boat afterwards. Being the macho guy that i am, no tears were shed by yours truely, but i do admit to briefly forgetting to put my housed camera to my facemask in order to take pictures. I think i was stunned to see a creature of such immense size come so close to me. I did though get one decent shot. The sun rays are what really makes this picture, helped by water of incredible blueness.

Looks like i will have to return next year.