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On arriving, we were wary of the rough-looking groups of permanent travellers and their assorted ancient lorries, but I managed to find a small knot of repectable-looking Germans to ask what was going on. As it turns out, the vast, flat beaches of Piémançon are opened by the authorities – albeit reluctantly – between 1st May and 30th September as (what the aforementioned website refers to as) “the last wild campsite in Europe“. An area near the end of the road is reserved for family-friendly camping, whilst in the distance to the east, sheltered from casual visitors, a naturist section is a temporary home to those who (according to their website) visit year in and year out.

As a one-time visitor, I was most impressed by the community spirit of the gathering group, sharing excitement about being allowed onto the beach the following day. The police, it turns out, are even prepared to spend hours clearing the beach of campers right up to the day before the official start of the season. The visual spectacle of a series of cars towing caravans in varying states of roadworthiness through the standing pools of water on the sand was pretty memorable, as was seeing some of the four wheel drive vehicles shuttling back and forth, as if to revel in the fact that they were finally off-road.

I asked, seeing the shore road lined with spectators watching the regulation-breakers, whether many just couldn’t wait until the next day and whether they were deliberately provoking the authorities.

With a shrug, a member of the German group said, “well, that’s the French for you”.

It’s been a particular goal to get out of the technical lull which came about due to an excess of concept work and a lack of programming at B-M, and I’ve already found that the long hours I put in last year – in particular for the Bike To Work project, which is currently running at full pelt – have paid off. I’m up to speed with TYPO3 development, although upcoming newer versions and new core concepts are going to mean more time re-learning the basics. That’s one of the great things about the job though; you’re never “done”, there are always new things just around the corner.

Two developments I’m particularly pleased to have achieved are in the area of class work – with a particular regard to PHP both for TYPO3 and WordPress – and truly OOP-based Javascript coding. Through using class extenders and the MVC model, I’ve bee able to re-code a lot of PHP functions for client and private solutions over the past couple of weeks, reducing code duplication and improving both efficiency and legibility. This will have a massive payoff both for myself and for those in the team for whom I’m laying the groundwork.

In private, I’ve also spent some time getting to grips with localized web development – specifically the implementation of VirtualHosts on a local OS X machine, set up and managed with the help of MAMP. This means that I now have a development version of permanenttourist.ch running on my own laptop, so that I can finally get around to optimizing my own custom WordPress functions and plugins without having to hack around on the live website. A secondary benefit to this development are that I can finally get around to re-coding the HTML and CSS using a “Mobile First” principle. This will mean that I can do away with a third party plugin to produce the version of the site which visitors with smartphones and tablets see, and vastly improve the branding and look of the mobile versions.

And finally, all of this development and new stuff needs some proper version management: something I’ve been lax with despite the fact that I’ve been programming since the 1980s and making websites since the mid 1990s. To that end, I’ve finally bitten the bullet and joined the masses of users at GitHub, into which I will be “pushing” and managing both private development projects and publically accessible plugins, classes, snippets and template helpers. I’ve only shared a few basic examples so far, to help me get used to the idea and processes involved, but please feel free to connect at https://github.com/permanenttourist if that’s your kind of thing.

The day will allow participants to work in groups together with models, to try out techniques in portraiture and lighting, share ideas, and pick up tips and tricks from more experienced photographers. All you need to bring with you is a camera, a full battery and empty memory card, comfortable shoes and lunch. If you have lighting equipment that you’d like to use, or find out how to use, then please do bring it along. If you don’t have any lighting gear, then you’ll get the chance to see how other attendees use their equipment and try things out for yourself.

If technical details aren’t your thing, then don’t worry: participants will be encouraged to work both with and without artificial lighting throughout the day. It’s about sharing the day with fellow photographers and being creative, not getting bombarded with loads of complicated information.

How to sign up

In order to set a convenient date, I’ve created a Doodle entry: please visit this page and enter the dates on which you would be able to attend. The first meetup will most likely take place in Zurich city. If there’s any interest, I’ll arrange a second meeting around the Rolex Learning Centre at the EPFL in Lausanne during the holiday period.

You can also sign up to an email newsletter using the following form. Your email address will only ever be used by me, to send you information about photographic events which might interest you.

The Doodle form isn’t the sign-up page: please follow this blog, my Facebook page, and the Swiss Strobist group at Flickr for finalized details and news of the events.

* “Free” means that I and any other group leaders won’t be charging a fee. There will be a small charge for each participant, to cover the costs of any models who attend. Further details will follow when the day and location are confirmed.

Photos from previous workshops

I started taking more wedding photos two or three years ago, after the occasional stint from time to time when I was younger. I am lucky enough that I don’t have to rely on wedding photography as a true source of income, so I can afford to offer my services at a reasonable rate and stick to a couple of principles.

Because I photograph in a “reportage” (or documentary) style, I try really hard to stay in the background as much as I can. (No pun intended.) Another compliment that I am paid from time to time is that my subjects don’t even know they’re being photographed; the skill of blending into the background is one that a photographer has to learn and practice. Through being able to blend into the background and take photos unobtrusively, the photographer can capture moments where subjects are off their guard and relaxed; not just at weddings but also at other events.

One of my guiding principles follows a similar inspiration to that of another photographic passion: that of street photography. I don’t make my subjects at weddings jump through hoops or spend half their day posing in front of my lens. While portrait shoots are great fun, a wedding day is about the wedding day, not a photo session. I am there to document the wedding and produce a set of photos which capture the essence and feeling of the day. No matter how much the bride and groom and their family like the photos I’ve taken, it remains a personal challenge to do more than the high street wedding photographer, and produce a set of photos which isn’t just unique because of the people in them.

Being technically proficient isn’t the same as being able to capture people’s feelings in a photograph. Look in the yellow pages for a photographer and you’ll be more than happy with the results, as professional photographers wouldn’t remain in business for long if they didn’t provide technically good photos. But that’s not enough for me: I want to be able to capture the true essence of the day and show people and their true emotions. Shots like this one can only be achieved by interacting with your subjects where necessary, to lighten the mood and let their characters shine through. True, a dash of wine at the reception helps guests to relax, but so does making the process of photography lighter, more fun, and less of an effort.

I’ve learned a lot through spending time behind and in front of the lens with seasoned event photographers, I’ve learned how to disappear into the background when necessary and when to flatter and charm people who are nervous about being in photographs. Learning these skills has helped me to improve my photography and to improve the way in which I capture moments which, in some years to come, will be a visual record of one of the most important days in a couple’s life. These photos are how people will remember much of the day, so it’s critical that I get it right. I used to shy away from such a responsibility, but through increased experience and proof, through feedback, that people like what I do, I now relish the honour of being asked to photograph a couple’s special day.

I do this for me, not for anyone else. I take photos because I enjoy the process; even if the photo disappears into my archive to be lost for months or longer. The act of creating a visual reminder of the experiences I have, to be able to re-live them in my memory when I return to the photos later, and being able to capture unique moments of unexpected synchronicity: that’s why I do it.

The Fire Parade, or, in local dialect, Chienbäse, is a procession in the small town of Liestal on the night before the opening of the annual three day Fasnacht carnival in nearby Basel city. Online references indicate that the procession is a pagan ritual to accelerate the end of winter; with the aim (to cite records going back to the turn of the last century) to “break winter and with bright and burning Chienbäsen torches, bring the power of the sun from the hill to the dark valley“. The procession in its current form dates back to 1902, when a local baker had the idea to integrate the tradition of burning local pine wood into a procession through the town.

What made the experience truly unforgettable for me was the most striking aspect, alongside the fire itself, of thousands of people packing themselves into the narrows streets to watch the procession whilst being so close to the fire. The massive fire brigade presence was a must, as lumps of wood fell from the giant wooden brooms regularly, leaving a trail of burning embers down the road for those following behind. (Including myself, as I kept to the sides of the road in front of the standing spectators, with a few other photographers.) Sparks filled the air, so it was a good idea that I’d followed the advice I’d read online before leaving home and worn woollen and heavy cotton outer clothing. Once down near the old town, where the road narrows, spectators (and photographers!) are within feet of the large rolling bonfires and so anyone wearing acrylic jackets quickly found that they had to retreat sharply, as the wagons came to an occasional standstill to let the way ahead clear.

The procession was very Swiss, in a way: despite the strong presence of the fire brigade, the crowd were, in the main, left to use their own common sense to stay out of the way. The big steel barriers which seem to be a standard feature of processions and displays in other countries were nowhere to be seen, and it was down to each person to take care of themselves and those around them when the fire came close. The heat was pretty intense on some occasions, when the larger fires halted next to the crowds, and I wasn’t the only one to be left with a gently smoking coat once they’d moved on. The omnipresent fire brigade officers kept an eye on everyone and were quick with wet cloths and fire hoses, should the heat became over-bearing.

The most striking part of the whole procession was the part as the procession passed through the upper town gate into the old city. The archway in the old town wall, forming the support for a couple of floors of accommodation and a significant tower, is made of wood and the largest of the flaming wagons passed beneath with barely a couple of feet to spare; hence the necessity for the passage to be taken at a run and for the inside of the archway to be doused heavily with water from fire hoses after each group had passed.

Add to this impressive display of tradition over health and safety the path of cinders left behind after the procession, smoking furiously as they mixed with the ubiquitous paper confetti from the earlier fire-free procession, and it’s amazing that no-one is injured or that no serious damage is caused during this annual event.

View my complete set of photos from the 2012 Liestal Chienbäse at Flickr.

In Scottish dialect, the “cloot” is a piece of cloth, and these are hung by those seeking healing for themselves or others in the trees around a well, or small spring. The idea is that the cloth, which has been in contact with the afflicted person, is left to disintegrate; as it does, the afflicted are healed of their pain or discomfort. Although there is plenty of history surrounding the Munlochy well, a visit on a dank, dark day in December left a somewhat odd feeling of distaste; mouldy t-shirts, trousers, gloves and socks, as well as children’s clothing and even a train ticket – for reasons I couldn’t ascertain – dripping quietly in the gloom did little to give the feeling of quaint tradition or reverent hope.

The worst-hit village was Brienz, where heavy rain washing down from the high adjacent mountains led to a sudden mud-slide through outlying parts of the village. Cars were washed away, houses swamped, and a life was lost in the immediate area of the Glyssibach storm channel. As I was working for the local newspaper company at the time, and one of our offices containing computer equipment was in Brienz, a friend and I were sent to the village to retrieve what we needed to temporarily move to the Interlaken office. As the village was cut off on both sides by large amounts of debris across the road, as a result of the large storm drain channels being overwhelmed, we were forced to resort to use a small motorboat being used as a taxi by a local fisherman.

Even now, six years on, the scars on the landscape caused by the mudslide are still plainly visible.

The following photos are the second set of ten: if you’d like me to feature your top ten of my portraits, please select them from my Portraits set at Flickr, and send me them in an email to mark@permanenttourist.ch. And, of course, let me know if you’d like to volunteer and have your portrait taken!

After consulting the Wainwright Guides at some length – an early birthday gift from my parents – we settled on a route which would, in fact, take in both Fleetwith Pike and Haystacks, according to the state of the weather and the state of our leg muscles. Despite the inclement weather and moderately strong winds, we headed for the Buttermere valley and after parking at the remote and almost deserted Honister Slate Mine, we slogged up the most tiring part of the walk; the steep, winding path leading up to the lower reaches of Fleetwith Pike. As we breasted the hill, we passed through the remnants of a fairly extensive slate dump spread across the hillside, which dates back at least to the 18th century. From there, we gathered our bearings and decided, based on the weather and continuing wind, to bypass Fleetwith Pike and strike out towards Haystacks: Wainwright’s favourite fell and the one at which his ashes were scattered after his death in 1991.

As we walked on towards our final goal – the darker section of hillside on the middle left of the photo above – the weather gradually began to close in a little, and by the time we’d descended to cross the stream below Dubs Quarry and scaled the first part of the path towards Green Crag, we realized that it would be safer to abandon our goal and bear away from the ridge to head along a flatter path back to the car. We’ve experienced enough mountain weather to know not to risk going too far when the weather conditions are so changeable. Whilst we’d probably have continued if we had more time and better gear, we decided to leave the truly adventurous walk for when we have more experience.

We stopped for a lunch break below the rocky outcrop of Green Crag and enjoyed the view; the best one looking down into the Buttermere valley over the lakes of Buttermere itself and Crummock Water. An interesting note, being that we live near Interlaken: the plain between the two lakes is actually debris and silt, which has collected over a great many years to seperate what once was one large body of water. Just the same as the original huge lake which became separated over time to form the lakes of Brienz and Thun! In Switzerland, the plain contains the small city of Interlaken, whilst in the Buttermere valley, the plain now hosts the village of Buttermere itself.

Back to the walk, and replenished with sandwiches and chocolate, we headed upwards across moorland to the easier path back towards the Honister Pass, and as we trudged through the impending gloom, we realized that we’d made the best decision. Hailstones arrived en masse and began pelting us hard; yelps aplenty as they struck our chilled faces painfully, when we turned our heads even slightly into the wind. After a distinctly uncomfortable twenty minutes or so, we made the path we’d been aiming for and gratefully turned our backs on the wind and hail, thanking our waterproof clothing for the protection and warmth it was affording us. A short break in the shade of a rocky outcrop between flurries allowed me a moment to get the camera out to photograph what we’d been walking through, before we returned to the path – sodden enough that it had become spongy despite the gravelly base layer – and headed back to where we’d descend and return to the car.

The most tiring part of an afternoon’s hike in the hills is always the worst: the downhill trudge with aching muscles. And so it was this time, where the interesting history of the arrow-straight path leading down to the valley floor – it used to be the track for a funicular leading between the slate mine and the hilltop – didn’t make the last leg any easier. Back at the mine, we collapsed gratefully out of the wind into the blessedly still and quiet car interior and began making our way back to the hotel with happy memories. Despite the effort and discomfort, we love experiences like these and look forward to experiencing more of them.

Although, hopefully, with less hail next time.

I knew back at the end of 2010 that I wanted to photograph more weddings, so I chose the D7000. Since buying it, I’ve been extremely happy with the results, but the thought of a high quality “point and shoot” camera remained in the back of my mind. Having put money aside all year, I ended up with the opportunity to look at the X100 again before Christmas and I decided to add it to my camera bag. The X100 is a small, lightweight camera, whose styling harks back to the style of “rangefinder” which was so popular in the 1960s and 1970s. My Olympus 35 RC is one of my favourites amongst the collection of second-hand film cameras on my shelves at home, and I’ve long wanted a digital equivalent. Offerings from Leica are fantastic, but well out of my price range, so the Fujifilm camera provided me with exactly what I’m looking for.

My aim for this new camera is as an alternative to the Nikon; a small, discreet camera with a distinctive retro feel, harking back to the days of classic street photography. The camera cannot replace my Nikon due to the aforementioned fixed lens – equivalent to a 35mm slight wideangle on a full-frame camera – and so I can only use it in certain situations. These situations, though, are exactly the reason for which I bought the camera.

I love street photography: walking the pavements of cities and towns unobserved, taking photos of life happening and photographing coincidences of light, movement and people. Using a large SLR like the Nikon makes one more obtrusive than is conducive to good observational photography, whereas using a small, discreet camera – which to the untrained eye looks like a point-and-shoot camera – helps the photographer to become less noticeable to the unwitting subjects of the photograph. The same applies to events and social situations: get out an SLR with a big lens, and your subjects will certainly notice your presence and even shy away. However, use a smaller camera and the pressure or reticence they feel will be much less. Add the exteremely good high ISO performance of the X100 – combining a decent shutter speed and wide aperture to achive blur-free photographs using natural light – and the opportunity for higher quality photographs in less well-lit situations makes event photography and photography in social situations much better.

I often fall foul to the draw of equipment: setting up lighting equipment to take portraits is a particular passion of mine. Sometimes, though, a portrait session can be simple: a subject, a photographer and a camera. This is a style of photography I’ve wanted to get back to for a while now: certainly not abandoning my lit and heavily composed shots, but rather also having a lighter, easier alternative. As a test run of the camera’s capability and sharpness, I took some posed shots of a friend during a wander around Bern and was very impressed with the results; whilst a slight wide-angle lens isn’t the perfect tool for portraiture, stepping back a little to include some of the surroundings produces really excellent results. The only negative points of the X100 I’ve found so far relate to focusing: the autofocus tends to be a little slow, and the minimum depth of focus is limiting, as to capture anything within about 3 feet means switching

I also used the X100 in Scotland a fair amount, primarily to test it for landscape and travel photography: again, the lens sharpness and excellent sensor – appparently an up-to-date version of the 12 megapixel one used in Nikon SLRs – produced perfectly exposed, sharp and detailed results.

This quality and ease of use means that it’s much more feasible for me to leave the camera bag at home for short trips away and just rely on the X100. Whilst limiting in terms of angles of view, the possibilities for creative work are just as good; perhaps even better, as being forced to use one single 35mm view makes a photographer think much more about composition and other aspects of the image-making process. It’s all too easy to just swap a lens to get a more dramatic image, whereas the best results are more often achieved by concentrating on the subject and what makes a good photograph.

That’s my main creative goal through using the X100, and I’m looking forward to getting out and using it a lot more this year: in particular, when the weather is warm enough to more comfortably allow for street photography.

I was glad I did. The lake was being whipped into a frenzy by almost hurricane-force winds, and the ray of sunlight, which had evaded me for all but the briefest of moments earlier in the day, struck down forcefully on the water and turned it into a tremendously dramatic place. With trees lashing all around, I wrapped myself up well in winter coat and hood, and got some shots from the head of the lake at the Monk Coniston ferry landing.

When his nephew took over the company in the 1850s, he looked for way to develop the efficiency of the production process and bought up two plots of land alongside the river in the small town of Saint-Imier, in the Chasseral region of the Bernese Jura mountains. The piece of land was called “Les Longines”, which was adopted as the name of the company. Since the early part of the 20th century, Longines has become synonymous with timekeeping in the sports world and for measuring the accuracy of world records; not least, the first non-stop solo crossing of the North Atlantic in 1927 by Charles Lindbergh.

Pictured:
Bank Of Scotland Special Award (undated); Scotland in Bloom Premier Award 1997; Britain in Bloom Winner 1998; Premiere Award Reserve Scotland 1999; Scotland in Bloom Winner 1999; World in Bloom Winner 1999; Nations in Bloom Finalist 2000; Scotland in Bloom Winner 2000; Permanent Landscaping 2001; Scotland in Bloom Winner 2001; Cleanliness Award 2002; R.H.S. Gold Medal 2002; R.H.S. Outstanding Contribution 2002; Scotland in Bloom Winner 2002; A.I.P.H. Award for Horticulture 2003; B.S.I.B 2004 Horticultural Excellence; Britain in Bloom Winner 2004; Scotland in Bloom Premier Award 2004; Britain in Bloom Winner 2006; R.H.S. Gold Medal 2006; Scotland in Bloom Winner 2006.