Old Times

We had a lovely Easter. Part of its loveliness was a big family lunch!

Later in the afternoon my uncle shared two pictures he had of my mother and I, which led us into a discussion about family photographs. Over the years I have managed to get my hands on a couple of my grandfathers photograph albums. They are filled with pictures from his part in World War 2. Some of the pictures are absolutely incredible, others plan grisly.

I was a kid when my grandfather passed away, and sadly knew very little about him. My uncle however started to share many stories from his own youth about his dad. I was a little surprised at some of the things that he told me. I heard that he was a great hockey player and played the flute. My dad never played sport and so I never suspected a hockey history. Interestingly, I love hockey, and both my boys seem to have a real talent for it. Luke has been pestering us for the better part of a year to play the flute. Strangely, he had no idea why it was important to him.


It got me to wondering if there are some things hard coded into our genes?

I now have a new photographic project, to scan and fix all of these old photographs. One day I may even finish my old photographic project, which is to scan and fix my father in law’s slides.

It was a wonderful afternoon. It did highlight how important a shared history is, and the value of old photographs. They are wonderful heirlooms.

It also made me realise how sad it is that I have lost the connection with my own father...

Hats and feather boas

There seems to be a rush on turn 40 at the moment. We have 40th birthday parties coming out of our ears, but I am not complaining!

This weekend a good friend of ours did the nasty deed. She managed to borrow someone’s house, with the most magnificent view, and threw her thrash right there. She had asked me to set up a little photography booth where people could select from a wide range of ridiculous hats and feather boas, and then take silly photographs of themselves.



The concept provided me with a number of technical challenges, all easy enough to overcome with ones fingers on the dials, but not so when trying to rely on some automatic process. I gave up after five minutes and decided to set up lights and do the deed myself. It was a beautiful evening with lights twinkling prettily in the background.

Party girl started off the process in some ridiculous attire. Now this is where it gets strange. Most people cannot stand being in posed photographs. Yet let them put on a wacky hat and suddenly they transform into these camera happy beings! It smacked eerily of the movie, the Mask! It was heaps of fun being behind the camera as all sorts of creativity unfolded in front of it.

This was a happy party. Not much alcohol drunk at all, yet the place was filled with laughter. Just lots of really good mates connecting on some deep levels. A great experience, and the photographs tell an amazing story!


I now have a late New Year resolution; it is time for me to start collecting some bizarre hats. I just don’t know when I may need to be someone else in a hurry!

My Climb up Kili in Pics

Dave, my boet

Me



Sunset, day 1

Cannot beat this rain forest



Sunset, day 2

Sunset - night 2



Night over Shira Camp2

Another Flower





Dave the Man!

Just Me!



Shira Plateau

Mt Meru through cairn



Dave & I & the climb that awaits

Mt Meru floating in the clouds



View from our lunch tent

Where we be going



Why be normal?

Just a jump to the right



Them boots are made for walking!

And another cloud rolls on in



Dave on his way up?

What a beautiful place



On top of Africa

Just the 4 of us!



Sunrise on top

Our assistant guide



The Kilimanjaro impatient

And another flower



The beautiful forest



The whole crew to get just 2 of us to the top!

And so it ends

Sleep is wonderful, when of course you get some! For the first time on this trip, I crashed. When I awoke, the grey light of dawn was stroking the tent. Our last night on the mountain was over. It was time to finish this adventure.



The camp is built on the edge of the rain forest and so the mornings walk plunged us into a fantasy world of old tress, tangled vines, and hanging lichen. Once again it was absolutely beautiful. David, with his bionic knee, had to take things slowly, which gave me the opportunity to take photographs like a man possessed. This nine kilometres of forest yielded over a 100 pictures, but truth be told I could have taken that many in any two meter square section of forest!


And then it was all over with a signature at the final hut. A remarkable experience and an even better bonding event between brothers!


The shower back in our hotel room was a revelation. Seven days worth of dirt and grime dripped to the floor in rivers of soap. My longest ever bristles were cut short in their prime. And clean clothes never felt so good. Especially considering I had worn one t shirt for the entire walk!

And then the only thing better than the shedding of dirt was of course a couple of cold beers, ‘Kilimanjaro Baridi Mbili Tafadhali’. Let alone the intense philosophical conversations that followed!

Growing up

I am amazed at how fast babies grow from a blob into amazing human beings. I fear that I spent a lot more time at work when my sons were babies and missed out on all of the subtle changes as they grew. My daughter, by contrast, has certainly kept me entertained with her antics as she discovers the world! At all of 8 months she seems to have the concept of the photo shoot waxed!