Cameras for Cruising - Technical boring post

Evan here.  As the more technically minded of our family I thought I'd contribute a few thoughts on cameras for current and prospective cruisers.  We currently (at last count) have 6 cameras and 1 video camera aboard.  And sometimes I think that's barely enough. Seriously, we do take a lot of photographs because of Diane's work as a writer. Good photos really can help sell a story - but they do a nice job of illustrating a blog as well.


What do we have aboard, and why?  Let's start with the big guns, the Digital SLRs or DSLRs.

• Canon 7D
• Canon 20D

Why do we shoot with a DSLR? Better pictures. Now a great photographer can make great photographs with a lousy camera - but most of us aren't great photographers. A DSLR can help the less photographically challenged among us achieve better results.  However, my pet peeve is when somebody looks at a particularly nice photo I have taken and says "Wow, great photograph. You must have a great camera."  To which I usually reply rather sarcastically "Yeah, and Hemingway had this awesome typewriter...".  Off the soapbox.  DSLRs do offer a range of benefits:

- shallow depth of field
- more accurate and faster autofocus
- much better low light (high ISO) performance
- faster frame rates
- better viewing in challenging lighting (dark or bright sun)
- a range of lenses to allow wider views or more reach than a typical point and shoot

Why do we have 2 DSLRs?  Simple - one is a backup. When you're shooting for money, you can't tell that Tahitian Ukele Maker that the camera is busted and we'll have to come back another time. You bring two bodies, each with a suitable lens.

Our newer 7D has a host of benefits over it's older sibling, but amazing autofocus (helped me get this shot: Maia and the dolphin ) and high ISO performance are two ones that really are most apparent. We did save a lot of money by not upgrading every generation (the 20D is about 4 generations removed from the current 60D, it's closest relative)

Right, on to lenses. Our lens collection cost more than the 2 bodies put together. Which is how it should be. An old photography truism is "spend money on glass". And have we ever. Here's our lens collection and why we have it.

• 17-55 F2.8 IS. This is a fast (F2.8 is fast for a zoom) walkabout zoom with typical focal lengths for a cropped sensor DSLR. The IS means it has image stabilizing, so it can be hand held at slow shutter speeds than normal. It's also quite heavy and expensive - about $1000 or so. But it is sharp throughout it's range and I shoot with it wide open without hesitation.
  
• 18-55 F3.5-F5.6 IS.  Covering nearly the same focal range, this is the cheap backup, about $150, or 1/8 of the super duper lens. We were very happy to have it when the expensive zoom seized up 1/2 way across the Pacific. And it's nice light weight means its a great hiking lens when you don't want to carry a lot of weight. Stopped down to F8, it produces sharp images, but shoot it wide open and you see it's nowhere near as crisp as the big brother. This is the type of lens most people get when they buy a kit, and they don't know what they are missing if they never step up to a better lens. There are mid-priced zooms for ~$500-700 that offer 90% of the performance of the expensive zooms for example. In the Canon range you would be better of with a 17-85 F3.5 - F5.6 or 15-85 these days
  
  
• 24-85 F3.5-F4.5 (This is mostly a legacy lens from film days - but I was happy to have it when Di went camping last weekend and I needed something semi-wide to shoot some dinghy accessories for a story).  In 35mm film days this was a great lens, but on a cropped sensor DSLR it's not very wide (38-135mm equivalent)
  
  
  
• 50mm F1.8 This is the super shallow depth of field portrait lens. Everybody with a DSLR should consider a prime (non-zoom) lens with a wide apeture. They are relatively cheap (about $100-250) and offer a lot of creative effects with selective focus. Also brilliant in low light.  F1.8 is 2 stops faster than the cheap zoom F3.5. 2 stops faster is FOUR times the light getting in. (You can also consider a 24/2.8 or 35/2 or a 28/1.8)
  
• 70-200 F4 L.  You need a telephoto. Why have a DSLR and only have 1 lens? This is a particulary super sharp telephoto in the Canon family. Much better than the 70-300 cheap and slow version. But if you have to economize a telephoto is probably a good area to do so - probably less than 10% of our photos are shot with this lens. If you are an avid nature photographer (birds, whales, etc) you can't have enough focal length.
• 1.4x Extender.  So you buy an extender. This attaches to the telephoto lens to give 280mm focal length or 420mm equivalent in 35mm film terms. Which is a lot of reach really. Note - most extenders do not work well (or won't physically fit) on the cheaper lenses. You're better off with just the plain cheap 70-300 telephoto. Get one with image stabilization.
  
• I'm currently jonesing for a 10-22 super wide angle. Di probably won't read this far down so don't mention it to her. I'll rent one for a day or two and see if I really need one.
  

What brand? Canon or Nikon would be my usual recommendation unless you have a bunch of Pentax lenses from the film days. They offer the best range, best repair support, and if you're in a moderate size city, you can usually rent Canon or Nikon lenses and flashes easily for a day or so for that special occasion when your lens dies. Generally I've found that you can sell used lenses for only slight depreciation if bought new and same price if bought used. We used to have a macro lens that we just didn't use. So I sold it for what I paid for it. Don't keep a lens you're not using - boats are too small!



Now that I have made my long winded post for why you want a DSLR, let's consider the compacts. We have 3 point and shoots of various vintages.

One was the first digital camera Diane got for a Chrismas present many years ago. It's still working mostly fine but it's nominally Maia's.

Two is a cheap Canon A-series I found in a parking lot. Again, works fine, nothing special.

Three is another Canon P&S. We bought this used because it came with a full underwater housing. We really like having a camera with underwater capabilities. So much of our memories of crossing the Pacific are entwined with snorkeling among the amazing sea life.

Friends who have 'ruggedized' point and shoots that are good for 10' or 15' of depth did find they sometimes flooded when snorkeling just that much deeper. So beware if you use those types - they also seem to have a fairly high failure rate in consumer blogs.





But you need a point and shoot or two - for those days you're carrying a lot of groceries in the market a big camera is too much, or you're trying to be discrete. Or just a backup to the DSLR should it fail.


I'm not a big fan of the current crop of 'smaller sensor' interchangeable lens cameras. They have a limited lens range, and really aren't that much smaller than the smaller DSLRs. And they tend to be similarly priced. They also usually use electronic viewfinders instead of looking through a glass prism - which are not as nice.

If you think a DSLR and lenses are too expensive and bulky, consider the higher end P&S like the Canon G12 or Nikon P7100 - the 'enthusiast' level P&S.  Of the Pansonic Lumix series. Anything with a fast F2.8 or faster lens.

Don't forget some accessories:

• Velbon Tripod - with a quick release plate (you can't believe how much better using a tripod with a QR plate is compared to doing without). Not often used, but vital when you need long exposures, like sea turtles crawling up the beach at midnight - seriously
• Gorillapod - the mini portable travel tripod
• Canon 430EZ flash
• a big Pelican case to keep them dry and safe from tropical humidity. And to avoid lens fungus. Throw in some silica gel to keep it dry inside.
• drybags for shore excursions
• photo management and processing software. We use Lightroom. It's very good.  Apeture is somewhat similar.

Please please back up your photos regularly. If you have friends flying to visit you, buy a big portable hard drive, copy everything to it, and have them take it for safekeeping. Having multiple backups in physically separate locations is always prudent.

Oh, yeah I did say 6 cameras didn't I? #6 is the one in my iPhone.  Happy picture taking.

Finger Licken Rabbit

Maia was building the snare, Mairen was raiding the garden for lettuce and Gracie was racing between the two looking for a job—she wanted to help make dinner.

When you find a book like this:

 It’s hard not to get inspired and begin to dream of dinners like this:

 Actually, unless you’re under twelve, what you do is flip though the book from front to back, laughing, and hoping to find something to make that doesn’t involve a kangaroo tail, skinning a rabbit, or a medium sized camel.

John, our intrepid Woop Woop host, knew this. So he thumbed through the book—double checked the ingredients for damper—then headed into town and picked up flour and baking powder. Meanwhile we amused the kids by sending them to the orchard to see if they could find any sort of fruit that they recognized.

They didn’t.

Buddha's Hand

Tomato Tree

But they did gather eggs, and picked strawberries from the garden, and when John returned they mixed, and kneaded, and wrapped dough around sticks, and cooked, and waited, and savoured.

 They never even missed the rabbit.

A Weekend in Woop Woop

Last week I was talking to a cruising friend who recently sold the boat and moth balled the flip flops. The conversation was about all the things she missed about cruising and one of the top things, she said, was being spontaneous, “Land dwellers just don’t seem comfortable with sudden invitations to do unexpected things.”

Woop Woop is a mythical place in the middle of nowhere—it’s just one of the names Aussies use for a remote outback settlement. The invitation to go camping in Woop Woop came from Annalise, someone I met once, while buying Maia’s school uniform. She was nice.

Actually—the invitation wasn’t for me, it was for the Totems—but Ev was going to be away, I own the GPS, so Maia and I sort of crashed the camping trip. There would be chickens, I was told, and hiking, and horses, and a swimming hole. 

I was there at the chickens.

The mystery was how do the chickens cope with living alone in Woop Woop? The land used to be home to Annalise’s in-laws—but they don’t stay out there much anymore. Behan theorized that whoever was caring for the horses was also caring for the chickens. I joked that the chickens might just be travelling from Brisbane with Annalise and her family.

They were.

“They like coming on holiday,” Annalise said, as she showed me the crate of three stunned chickens stuffed in the trunk along with camping gear.

The property is a 160 acre farm where the owners had lived self-sufficiently off the grid. There was a lovely big orchard and a garden, a big fire pit and a house that cropped up around a trailer. We set up our tents and built the fire and watched the stars fill up the sky. Over tumblers of goon (boxed wine) we said things like, ‘I reckon it’ll be a right ripper weekend if the bities and drop bears don’t get us.’ And, ‘Tomorrow arvo after checking the chooks we’ll put on our cozzies and head to the crick--it'll be heaps of fun.’

At one point during the weekend Annalise told us how impressed she was that we showed up--that she'd been inviting friends for years and they rarely took her up on the offer. Behan and I explained that sudden, unexpected invitations are the best--and as cruisers we learn to relish them. 
And my friend? The one who’s slowly learning to live as a land dweller? She's decided that she’s not going to give up surprising her friends with unexpected invites, and if you call her at the last minute and ask her along to just about anything? She'll be there—because you never quite know where those adventures will lead.

Don’t Just Do It

navigation error

One year ago we were in countdown mode: finishing boat projects, compiling lists, making plans, and in our spare moments dreaming. Dreaming about the months to come where we’d sail across the South Pacific, stop in extraordinary places and live out the ultimate fantasy.

It’s still a bit surreal to realize we did it—but each time we’re asked for advice, or our opinions, it becomes a little more real. The typical question is a vague one—what advice do we have for wanna-bes? What could we tell those who want to follow in our wake?

I know the popular answer is, ‘Just go! Go now. Don’t wait. Don’t let life hold you back!’ And sure—that’s great advice if your boat, your bank account, and you are ready enough to go.

If not? Our honest advice? Don’t go. Not yet…

I know—this is a very unpopular position. Quite negative really… Especially if you’ve read those blogs and books by the bumbling sailor types who were clueless when they started but then all the misadventures led to grand adventures and finally a book deal. But those sailors are the exception. Honestly.

Too often momentum, money and skill run out before the adventure is done. Want proof? Go look for a cheap used boat—you’ll find them all over the world, abandoned when the cruising kitty ran dry, or the marriage ended or the breakdowns mounted up. No one blogs about these trips and these abandoned dreams—but seriously no one sets out with the plan of selling a boat with a hole in it from Vanuatu…

towed in from the sea

Is your boat ready?

Boats don’t need to be fancy or outfitted with the latest and greatest, but they do need to be well founded and in good repair. Rigging needs to be relatively new (we know of several boats that lost masts in some very isolated locations—and have encountered several abandoned sailboats that didn’t have sticks). Sails need to be in good shape and you should have the ability to repair or swap them out. You need to have spare parts for engines and outboards. In short, every major system on your boat needs to function well and you should have the ability to repair it, or do without.

Is your bank account ready?

How much money is enough? No two budgets are the same… So I can’t offer a number. I can say this—it’s hard to make money when you are travelling, so plan to be financially self-sufficient for as long as you plan to be out. Planning to stop and work is cool—many of us do that—but you need have money enough to bridge the gap. Assume expensive things will break. Assume you’ll need some sort of medical care. Assume you may need to suddenly fly home. Assume you will need to pay to haul your boat or put it in a marina.

Budget for these things—then if nothing unexpected happens, you get to cruise a little longer. But if you hole your boat on a reef, or need surgery, or your dinghy is stolen—the unexpected expense won’t end your trip.

Are you ready?

Bumbling sailors do make it across oceans and around the world—and they learn as they go. But they also make mistakes. Last year one set of sailors came in to Nuku Hiva after more than 50 days at sea, they were out of food and water, their batteries were drained, the boat had a good deal of damage—it turned out they didn’t know how to sail. Seriously. Sail trim? Not a clue...

We encountered other boats that went out in terrible conditions because they didn’t understand how to read Grib files or obtain weather faxes. We met one family that drove up on a reef because they didn’t realize Fiji charted with different symbols. Not knowing the basics—like how to reef—makes a funny story, unless you trash the boat beyond repair. So learn—and do it somewhere safe. Join a racing boat, sign up to crew on a long passage, take classes in navigation and weather and then take your boat through a challenging shakedown cruise.

anchorage after a squall

 So I know—I’m a total killjoy. Saying, ‘just go’, is way more fun. But here’s the thing—cruisers look out for each other. Which means we offer advice, but we also rescue each other: we haul each other off reefs, or tow each other in through bad weather, we help fix broken stuff, and patch up wounds. And when there are too many sailors who don’t have well-founded boats and competent skills out there—it puts us all in danger.

Talking to Australians

 Maia: “Mum, I have no idea what Mr. A said about my work today. He said something, but I don’t know if it was good or bad.”

Me: “You couldn’t hear him?”

Maia: “I heard him fine. But it sounded like a foreign language…”

When we enrolled Maia in school one of the questions for foreign students was, “will your child need a translator?” We joked that yes, between the Queensland accent and the heavy use of slang, she just might need someone to interpret the ‘Strine. We weren’t really serious…

The thing with the Aussie language is it’s excellent fun to listen to, while eavesdropping. It’s liberally sprinkled with mate, g’day, reckon and heaps as well as barbie, bikkie and bogan, arvos, avos and ambos—and after a few tries we got those. The thing-o seems to be if you can shorten a word—you do (sandwich becomes sanger, petrol station becomes servo, Salvation Army Stores become Salvos, bathing suit becomes bathers). Australians, it seems, are lazy…

It’s one thing to truncate a word—it doesn’t take too long to figure out that a snag is a sausage, a yewy is a u-turn (though you don’t want to be sorting that one out in the moment—as in “quick, do a yewy”…), a sickie is a day off, a mozzie is a mosquito and a journo is a journalist. But where we struggle is with the words and slang that are sort of random—it took us a while to realize an op-shop is a thrift store, being shouted a drink was a good thing, and that an eskie is a cooler. I’m still not certain what daggy is and think I may be using fair dinkum wrong.

Maia explained her teacher looked at her work and said something which may or may not have been a compliment. And she was uncertain, should she have said thank-you or sorry? Then she shrugged it off, “I reckon she’ll be right, mum. He said ‘sweet as’ as part of the words.”

We’ve Got Wheels

Boats and bikes, despite all the expensive fold-up, rust proof, light-weight wheeled contraptions to the contrary, just don’t go together very well. Or maybe they do—but we’ve never been that successful at making the combo work…

We had bikes on our first boat. The two of us were cycle commuters and couldn’t imagine traveling without bikes. So we road tested all sorts of options and after finding that the folding bikes we could afford were too wimpy for hilly rides on rough roads, we settled on light-weight hybrids with quick release front and back wheels. I sewed storage bags for them and they found a home in a back locker—where they stayed.

Oh, they came out a few times—but the effort to load them into the dinghy, row them into shore, assemble them, set off on some road that was a death trap to cyclists and then afterward try to find a safe place to lock them up, or repeat the trip back to the boat meant that as our travels went on--we used our bikes less and less. We finally sold them off in the Western Caribbean.

This time, even though we have a bigger boat (easier storage) and a bigger dinghy (easier transport) we still know from lugging scooters and a unicycle to shore that, for us, the effort to cruise with a bike would outweigh the benefit of having a bike. And honestly, there are not that many places where bikes work that well—most places you can easily get what you need by walking and a lot of islands are just too hilly for bikes to be useful.

This said, we still like bikes, and still think that they are an excellent idea for cruisers who spend more than a few weeks in a given port. I just don’t think they belong *on* boats.

Some of my favourite marina setups have had bikes for cruisers to use. Sometimes the bikes are fancy but most of the time (at least in the kind of places we stay) they are beaters that were abandoned by previous cruisers. We’ve also rented bikes, been lent bikes and know other cruisers who have inherited bikes.

bike parking at Gardens Point

 Our new bikes are what Maia calls ‘ugh’ bikes: Which means they are a) ugly and b) ugh is the sound you make when your mum shows you your new bike. They are also very inexpensive bikes—my lock is worth more than my bike—which makes them perfect cruiser bikes. So we’ll use our new ugh bikes while we’re here—and at some point when we carry on we’ll pass them along to the next cruiser who arrives in port.