Torres del Paine

The Torres, from which the National Park gets its name, remained elusive, hiding behind wreaths of cloud. I caught a glimpse of the central tower for a minute or so, then the cloud closed in again. I didn't mind; the cloud and cold seemed to reflect the nature of the place in a way fine, sunny weather couldn't. I considered myself lucky.


[19 November 2011, Panasonic Lumix GH1, 14–45 mm at 18 mm, ISO 200, 1/10 at f11]

All content © 2012 Pete McGregor

Evening at the Torres del Paine mirador

The cold at the mirador felt as if it could kill, and as the sun crept down behind the Torres only the keen people stayed — just four of us. The Torres stood almost silhouetted; the extreme contrast made photographing difficult. But sometimes sunlight would stream through the swirling cloud and mist and pick out parts of the mountainsides, and in those moments the cold no longer mattered.

Here's another photograph from the same evening.


[19 November 2011, Panasonic Lumix GH1, 100–300 mm at 100 mm, ISO 100, 1/125 at f11]

All content © 2012 Pete McGregor

Ushuaia stream — [triptych]

The Martial Glacier near Ushuaia, on Tierra del Fuego, turned out to be a puddle of ice mostly buried under snow. Still, I enjoyed being there, and on the way down we walked through beech forest that reminded me so strongly of Aotearoa/New Zealand that I felt a sense of the uncanny*.

A pre-emptive response to the question, "Why the triptych?" — I don't know. It just works a lot better.

*I'm not sure if I'm using "uncanny" in Heidegger's sense, because I haven't found an intelligible explanation of what he meant.


[2 December 2011, Panasonic Lumix GH1, 14–45 mm at 36 mm, ISO 200, 1/13 at f8]


All content © 2012 Pete McGregor

Pholcus phalangioides — daddy longlegs spider

Small but life-and-death dramas play out in the corners of my house constantly. This was in the corner of the kitchen ceiling.


[6 February 2012, Canon 20D, 100mm f2.8, ISO 200, 1/250 at f11, flash (strobe)]

All content © 2012 Pete McGregor

Old books

To what extent is a digital version a link to what has been? Not everything must be preserved — some things should be allowed to return to the form from which they arose. When an old book finally decays into dust and the imperfect fragments of memory, what has been lost, and how does that change if the text has been preserved in some non-corporeal way?


Do these questions prompt you to seek answers, or questions of your own?


All content © 2012 Pete McGregor

What is a book?

Left to right: Spencer's Principles of Ethics, Volumes I and II; Bantams, by Jack Hutton; Household Poultry Keeping; Poultry Keeping: Part 5—Chick Rearing; Bantams and Miniature Fowl, by W.H. Silk (First edition). The books about chooks date from the middle of last century; the two volumes of Spencer's work were printed in 1892.


[4 March 2012, Panasonic Lumix GH1, 100–300 mm at 100 mm, ISO 200, 1/40 at f4.5]

All content © 2012 Pete McGregor

Dusk in the fjords of Chile

Passing through the fjords of Chile — a wild, wonderful landscape. I've used a slightly smaller version of this for the Pohanginapete post I published yesterday. Usually I don't duplicate photographs on the two blogs, but I thought this one deserved the larger format.


[7 December 2011, Panasonic Lumix GH1, 100–300 mm at 100 mm, ISO 400, 1/125 at f8]

All content © 2012 Pete McGregor