Category Archives: Photography

Learning more about Lisbon

Sunday 23 August 2026 – We had a date with Carlos, who would be our guide for a walking tour of Lisbon, at 10am, so we didn’t have to leap out of bed with too much alacrity. The hotel has a small restaurant for providing breakfast, and I’d nominated 0830 as the likely time of our arrival. It was a buffet breakfast, with many good things on it, which I largely ignored for a chorizo sandwich. The major disappointment with it was a complete lack of any Earl Grey tea we could snaffle to supplement our supplies, but we thought we might be able to find some in the shops; otherwise it was a decent and ample breakfast.

Since we had time spare before our date with Carlos, I took the opportunity to walk along to Rua Augusta to see if I could capture some of its charm, and particularly the very typical  Lisbon use of mosaics on the pedestrian areas, before it got all full of people again. One thing I remember very clearly from previous visits to Lisbon is the very charming use of black-and-white tiles to make patterns in the pavements.

These are evidence simultaneously of the effort that must have gone into laying them in the first place, and the lack of maintenance in recent times. Rua Augusta, though, notable as it is, is mosaically in a good place.

Since that put me near the Praça do Comércio again, I took the further opportunity to get some photos there, too.

We met Carlos at the hotel and immediately headed back towards the Praça do Comércio, which gave him the chance to explain some of the history behind what we were seeing. Had we arrived in 1756, the scene would have been one of utter devastation, since there had been a major earthquake (estimated at 7.7 magnitude and only some 40km to the south) on November 1, 1755. November 1 is All Saints Day, and many people were at church, leaving candles lit for the occasion – in wooden houses. So buildings fell and fires raged. As well, a tsunami hit, which completely wiped out the square we were standing on and all the buildings around it – 85% of Lisbon’s buildings were destroyed.

The king, Joseph 1, and his prime minister, the Marquis of Pombal, survived the earthquake and set about rebuilding the city. The buildings we see around the square today are this Pombaline legacy – architecturally simple and with an elegance directly influenced by Parisian architecture.  All the ruins behind the square were flattened and the streets rebuilt on a grid pattern. The yellow colour of the buildings denotes their original purpose of being government buildings. Other colours were used for other functions or in other quarters of the city, like this one.

Apparently, Praça do Comércio spent much of the 1990s as a car park!

Carlos then took us generally northwards, past the Elevador de Santa Justa

a wonderful structure designed by a pupil of Gustav Eiffel to address the very hilly nature of Lisbon, now sadly closed ever since a tragic accident with one of the city’s distinctive funiculars, which meant that they, and the elevador, had to be closed for “maintenance”, although it would appear that neglect was a major contributor to the disaster.

We continued northwards to another major square, the Praça Dom Pedro IV.

You can see old Peter the Fourth above the trees there. He was a Good King, having managed to achieve great things (recapturing Lisbon from his hated brother Miguel, establishing the monarchy as constitutional) before dying young. His statue

dominates the square, but Carlos told us a story that the statue might not actually be of Peter, but of Maximilian 1 of Mexico. The story goes that Italian statue makers had created a statue of Max, but he died so they offered it to Lisbon at a bargain price; it was mounted very high so that the people couldn’t see that it wasn’t actually Peter. A close up of the face

does show a visage resembling Max rather than Peter, it must be said.

We continued northwards towards the Jewish and Moorish quarters, in doing so passing remnants of the old walls of the city,

and the ruins of the Carmo Convent,

a 14th-century Carmelite convent which fell into ruin during the 1755 earthquake.

We were heading into the more working class areas of Lisbon, and it showed;

it’s even more dilapidated than the downtown areas. Among the general downbeat air, though, can be found some of the decorative architectural flourishes typical of the city.

as well as hints about its topology.

The decorative tiling seen elsewhere can be seen here, too, particularly on the buildings in the better-off areas;

tiles are an excellent architectural tool, since they don’t fade like paintwork does, and also can be replaced piecemeal should some break or fall.

The Moorish areas are Mouraria and Alfama and are distinguished by, among other things, the narrow and labyrinthine street layout.

This is the area where the distinctively mournful musical style of Fado is widely said to have originated. The street above features street art depicting many of the most influential figures in the early 20th-century development of Fado.

These two, and others, are celebrated in artworks along this street,

and there are other artworks dedicated to the tradition, too.

We started to see increasing amounts of street art in this area.

and Carlos led us up streets and staircases featuring a bewildering varety of art works.

Much of it sprang from a project to address mental health and community spirit.

and some of the work was of immensely high quality,

and some artists had contributed multiple images, like Gnomo (who painted the other chameleon, above).

The area where this street art can be found is called Graça, and the steps we climbed led to its church.

We looked in, but a service was under way, so we didn’t stay long.

Just outside the church is a splendid miradouro (viewpoint), giving a great view of the castle

and an overview of the city.

At the bottom of the picture you can see the one remaining functional funicular, the Graça funicular, which is more modern than the ones that are currently “in maintenance”, albeit run by the same company.

Around this area can be seen some larger-scale street artworks, many of which have the theme of female empowerment (a relatively recent concept in Portugal, it has to be said).

At this point the rain, which had been sporadic up to that point, became really heavy.

so we stopped in at a charming little coffee shop, Condes da Praia,

where we treated ourselves to some traditional Portuguese pastel de nata – delicious custard tarts before calling it a day and catching a cab back to the hotel.

Carlos had done a splendid job of showing us some of the parts of Lisbon we wouldn’t otherwise have seen, and we’re delighted to learn that he will also be our guide in Sintra, where we travel in a couple of days’ time.

We relaxed for a while back at the hotel until housekeeping ushered us out so they could tidy the room. Since by that stage the sun was beginning to shine through, we decided to see if we could get up to the top of the triumphal arch at the base of Rua Augusta so we headed that way. It was clear, from the aroma in the air, that the amount of rain we’d had during the thunderstorm was more than Lisbon’s drains were prepared to deal with.

The entry fee for the arch is €5 per head, and for this you get a lift ride almost all the way up, which is great. There are still 74 steps to complete the journey, but that’s a lot fewer than it might have been. And the view you get from the top is wonderful, even if the aroma from the street was still perceptible.

I had particularly wanted to be able to show the patterns of the mosaics along Rua Augusta, and this was the perfect viewpoint. I was very taken with the reflections of sunlight from the windows in this picture.

We also took the opportunity to look into the church near the hotel which has the fantastic façade we’d seen yesterday, the church of Nossa Senhora da Conceição Velha.

This picture makes it look quite plain, but it isn’t. The altar is quite something,

the ceiling is beautiful

and there are many carved figures around, some with very lifelike features.

They’ve also taken some of the guesswork (and the reliance on donations) out of setting candles.

We finished our wanderings at Pata Negra, a Portuguese Tapas and Steakhouse, which served us a very fine meal (and G&Ts!), before heading back to the hotel.

So, thanks to Carlos we’ve learned a lot about Lisbon that we didn’t know and seen a lot we probably would have missed. The weather prospects tomorrow morning are conducive to taking a late breakfast, but we can wander about a bit more during the afternoon. Who knows what we may stumble across? Check back soon to find out!

 

Initial wanderings in Lisbon

Saturday 22 August 2026 – An 0830 taxi to the airport should be fine, shouldn’t it? This should enable us to get up at a reasonable hour after a good night’s sleep, have a bite of breakfast, maybe a coffee and get ourselves ready to leave via a symphony of organised activities just as the taxi draws up outside.

As if!

We ended up getting to sleep far too late, getting up a bit too early and still having about half an hour’s wait for the taxi. Time, of course, drags during that half hour and allows the double angst of worrying that the taxi won’t arrive whilst frantically wondering if there’s anything we’ve forgotten. Apart from that, the morning went well.

The taxi did turn up, of course, and we had a pretty much uneventful transit through Heathrow Terminal 2, on to a TAP flight and on to Lisbon. There were the usual trials – no leg room, some children who were very noisy at times (though, to be fair, quiet on the flight), and a source of particular aggravation for me in the shape of a teenager sitting next to me who insisted on watching a film on his phone with the volume up. I’d hoped the noise of the engines might drown it out, but just enough tinny sound made it through to make it rather annoying without being so egregious that I felt able to do more than give him One Of My Looks, which he never even noticed, far less ignored.

I had been concerned about queues on arrival at Lisbon because of the new EU Entry Exit System, but actually my fears were entirely unfounded. There were loads of the new kiosks available and working, so getting the photo and fingerprint business done was very swift. What surprised me a little was that we still had to go through the e-gates after we’d done that, but all was well, and our bags were numbers 32 and 34 off the aeroplane when they turned up at the carousel.

Our driver was waiting for us and whisked us in to downtown Lisbon, where we’re staying at the Turim Hotel. We had a bit of an awkward time at check-in as the hotel were expecting us to pay for the room whereas we’d expected it to be prepaid. Jane contacted Caroline at Walk The Camino, but the only resolution was for us to stump up the funds on the assumption that some kind of resolution will enable us to get the money back at some stage. Apart from that, the hotel room seems perfectly OK, if a bit cramped and gloomy. We’re not expecting to spend a lot of time in it anyway.

The room did feature a kettle (hurrah!) but only plastic milk in little pots (boo!); a trip to the bar got us some proper milk so we could refresh ourselves with Twinings finest Earl Grey. Having done that, we went for a walk. Obviously.

The hotel’s location is excellent – close to the cathedral and the main square and a 15-minute walk from the Castle – a great base for exploring, We have a guided walking tour booked for the morrow, but thought it would be interesting to wander up (and, this being Lisbon, up is an operative word here) to the cathedral and remind ourselves about it. I can remember seeing the outside on previous visits, but can’t actually remember if we went in. Anyway, the walk there showed us a few of Lisbon’s characteristics: some very attractive tiling;

some other appealing decorative touches to some buildings;

some amazing façades;

and a very funky selection of taxis and tour operators.

The cathedral is very difficult to photograph; one ends up quite considerably downhill when trying to capture the front, standing on a tramway with trams and other traffic bearing down at speed,

but I captured the above without serious injury and we went inside. Doing this provided further evidence that we’d not been inside before, as one of the options on offer on entering (and paying for your ticket) is to go up to the museum, and I’m sure we’d never done that. So, up we went, and got a great view of the main interior of the church.

Behind us at this point was the enormous stained glass window, which we got a good close view of. I took another picture from further away, down in the body of the church, to give better perspective

but this doesn’t do justice to the close encounter we got at the closer quarters. The museum has got all sorts of religious bits and pieces, but the most impressive area is the Treasury, a room that is very lavishly appointed. I couldn’t get a photo angle that captured the room, but it has a beautiful ceiling

and some very fine tiling and artwork.

As you can see from the photo of the interior, the church has a long and relatively narrow nave, with many chapels off to the side. The sum total makes for a very large and imposing building and some of the chapels are lovely. There’s one with a very arresting display in it.

It’s a very elaborate nativity scene,

rendered in astonishing detail.

There’s also a baptistry that features some wonderful tiling work.

Having visited the cathedral, we walked the short distance back towards the hotel, which took us past numerous restaurants, so we stopped in at one, Taberna Moderna, which looked appealing.  The food was very good, but the drinks selection was a bit bizarre. We ended up having a cherry-flavoured caipirinha, as they had no gin or tonic. It was tasty, but bizarre. There was too much food, so we had a short walk after dinner to settle it down a bit, and strolled along to Rua Augusta, which was labelled a “notable” street. It’s the one which leads up from the well-known arch at at the top of the main square, Praça do Comércio.

It being Saturday night, it was all full of people, so we didn’t hang about but headed back to the hotel. We did pass an exceedingly niche shop there, though.

Every shelf is crammed full – appropriately with tins of sardines in all manner of different sauces and guises. A remarkable place.

Back at the hotel, Jane relaxed while I started the process of discovering a photo workflow based around the tablet rather than the laptop I customarily have with me, It’s going to take some refining, but it would appear to be reasonably effective. Proper editing of the photos will have to wait until we get home and I can get back to my beloved DxO Photolab, but I hope I’ll be able to work work with what I brought with me.

Tomorrow, Carlos, our guide, will spend some time showing us around Lisbon and we hope to see perhaps some of the less well-celebrated aspects of the city. Come back tomorrow to see what it is we saw.

 

Eclipses, Ratholes and Frustrations

Thursday 13 August 2026 – Yesterday saw the most significant solar eclipse visible in the UK since 1999. Between then and now there have been a few partial eclipses, but either the weather has got in the way of being able to see anything or its pith and moment in Surrey was negligible.

1999 was the first time I made any kind of effort to view an eclipse.  I didn’t have a digital camera at that stage, and the film camera I did have wouldn’t have made any sense of what was going on, so we viewed it, along with our neighbours and a glass of something cold, via some kind of pinhole-projection setup.

I can’t remember the exact setup, but this was the sort of image we got.

This gave me something of an incentive to Do Better Next Time, although many years elapsed before I was able to have another go. During that time I made the shift to digital photography (Digital Ixus in 2000) and then to Serious Digital Photography (Nikon D70 in 2005 – I even done a course, innit!) and this passage of the years saw, of course, the first photography rathole that I disappeared down. Many photographers are closely acquainted with GAS – Gear Acquisition Syndrome – and I am of their number. I made my way up the Nikon DSLR ladder, acquiring ever more sophisticated bodies and lenses, with purchases supported somewhat by doing paid photo work. I even bought a specialist eclipse filter, from Thousand Oaks Optical, for a Big Lens I’d decided I needed in order to do another project – wildlife photography. But significant eclipses, UK locations and decent weather stubbornly failed to coincide.

Until last year, actually. March 2025 saw a 40% eclipse in the south of England and the weather was decent. At last! An opportunity!

Annoyingly, the filter I’d bought those years ago was made to fit a Big Lens I no longer had, having moved from DSLR to mirrorless with a concomitant change of lenses. But, as a colleague of mine used to say, nil desperandum: I also had a sheet of Thousand Oaks’s black polymer film, so jerryrigged something or other with a square cut out of the film and pointed my new Big Lens at the sun. This was the result.

It’s satisfactory in its way – correctly exposed and in focus – but, frankly, is creatively a bit lacking. It’s just this photo of a not very interesting eclipse, you know? So when I read that there was to be a significant eclipse in 2026, I sought out an eclipse filter properly sized to fit my current Big Lens (Nikon Z 100-400) so I had it ready for August 12 – a 90% eclipse towards sunset over the south of England, with (hooray!) the prospect of a clear sky.

In the run up to this, I fell down another rathole, which was the result of considering how to make something more of what promised to be a spectacular event. After all, I’d proved that I could get an in-focus photo of the sun, so how could I leaven the experience with a bit of creativity? There were, as far as I could work out, no easily-accessible locations where I could factor the eclipse into a landscape or a cityscape to make it spectacular, like this, for example.

Credit: Luke Miller

All I have near me is the leafy Surrey countryside, somewhat devoid of points of interest. Since the maximum point of the eclipse was due to be near sunset, I also needed to be on a hill somewhere, and the only one I could think of was Oystershell Hill, on Chobham Common – a short drive and a 10-minute walk away. I’d used it before for a lunar eclipse series so was fairly confident I could get some kind of a result from there. I’d also seen some time-series photos of eclipses and so I thought I’d have a go at one of them, as well as getting a decent photo of the eclipse at its max.

Here, then, was the next rathole – how to achieve the time series? I wondered about using a multiple exposure setup on the Nikon; set it up, point it in the general direction of the sunset and take several exposures into a single image. If I did that, though, I lost my best chance of getting a top quality image of the eclipse at maximum. I have a very good camera in my phone: could I that in some way?  Was it even possible to use it to get  a decent image of the sun without it being over-exposed? Could I use it to do a hyperlapse? The answer in both cases is no; particularly in the second case, I would end up frying the sensor in the phone, which would be stupid.

In the end, I decided that I could probably use my little Sony RX100 vii, but I would need to jerryrig a filter. So I dug out my ThousandOaks film and discovered there the segment I’d cut out as part of the 2005 jerryrig.   I used it to create something I could position over the lens.

To hold it in place, I decided to use a Wimberley Plamp, a photo accessory I’d purchased some years before for….erm, well, I can’t really remember why I bought it, apart from that it looked like it could come in handy. I hoped it would do the job and I’d get to actually use it, rather than have it simply hanging around in my accessory cupboard.

Previous experience, and the several failed experiments that have bedevilled my time as a photographer, told me that I should have a practice, just to make sure that I had the right stuff with me when the time came and hadn’t forgotten anything. So, 24 hours before, I duly drove over to Chobham Common and trudged up to the top of Oystershell Hill, carrying three tripods and a backpack containing two cameras, lenses, filters, water and snacks. I discovered that I’d rather misjudged the terrain.  I remember there being a flat spot at the top of the hill where I envisaged setting up. Trouble was, I found, it wasn’t suitable for a view of the sun, what with trees being in the way and that.  There was a westerly viewpoint, but it was among long grass off to the side of the path – long grass and, it became clear, junior gorse bushes, against which my shorts-and-sandals attire were woefully defenceless.

Cursing rather less than gently, I set up two of my tripods, and put the Sony on one of them behind the filter. And then discovered a plan-reality disconnect.  I had envisaged setting the Sony up to take multiple pictures as the sun crossed its field of view, with the horizon just at the bottom of each frame.  It was actually exceedingly difficult to put this into practice. I had simultaneously to work out an exposure for the sun through the filter, an exposure for the treeline that formed the horizon and the correct focus distance so that both sun and horizon would be sharp. This had to be done without being able to see the screen of the camera, because the image on it wasn’t bright enough and it was reflecting my shirt. Fortunately, the Sony has an electronic viewfinder so all was not entirely lost, but trying to work out whether the sun was actually in the picture at all was the main challenge. My original plan had been to run a practice sequence of photos, but I abandoned this impossibly idealistic goal, realising that luck and guesswork, as well as long trousers and stout shoes, were going to be the order of the morrow. So I didn’t learn much from my practice session, although I did establish that taking photos with the Nikon handheld was over-ambitious. I had expected it to be a rather dull practice session, with not much to do after my original setting up. In reality it was anything but – frustrating, sweaty and ultimately of limited value.

And so Wednesday 12 August dawned and, come 1730, I started the drive to Chobham common. En route, it occurred to me that there might be another suitable location, on Staple Hill, a different part of Chobham Common – but one with a more convenient car park and possibly a more pleasant (i.e. les gorse-ridden) area in which to set up. So I turned off to get there, and entering the car park, saw that lots of other people had had the same idea. The car park was rammed – I got the last space – and people were beginning to park on the road in the area. It was quite the gathering, with many people clearly having prepared quite comprehensively.

There were a few tripods already set up, and some people were clearly taking things even more seriously than I was.

There was a smattering of eclipse specs and cereal-box pinhole cameras to go with the tripods and serious setups – everyone had come prepared in their own way.

I got myself set up as best I could, but it really was difficult to understand what focal length to set the Sony at – if it were short enough to capture the sun as it entered the eclipse, I couldn’t see whether it would appear so tiny that one couldn’t make out the disk of the moon in front of it. Even with half an hour to set up, I was still dithering about this as the disc of the moon made first contact (as shown on this Nikon image)

so I did some final guesswork for focal length, direction, focus distance and exposure, prayed, and set the Sony going, taking a photo every minute.

The next couple of hours unfolded gently, from 1820 to 2010, with the Sony taking photos automatically, and me taking occasional photos manually with the Nikon. Maximum eclipse was at 1913

but it hadn’t gone very dark;

we couldn’t tell whether the birds had fallen quiet, as we were just by the M3 and traffic was speeding by in complete ignorance of the unfolding spectacle. A contact posted on Instagram that the parrots in the park he was visiting went quiet, but soon started up again as the moon cleared the sun.

People started drifting away soon after the maximum had been reached, but I stayed on for another hour. I was among the last to leave, having recorded photos of the sun as it headed towards the horizon. Eventually I packed up and headed home.

That was when the hard work started, really, because I arrived home with 160 photos and only the vaguest idea of (a) whether they were any good and (b) what to do with them. Completing the processing of them and transforming them into what the Instagram Generation would call “content” took the next 24 hours.

Because the Nikon picture of the eclipse at maximum was, well, not boring, exactly, but certainly had nothing remarkable about it that thousands of others hadn’t already captured, I decided the first thing was to get a time series sorted out. My first target being social media, I needed to do it quickly, so I took a quick look at my available content from the Sony.

I had taken photos every minute, and I elected to check out very fourth photo to see how the sun had moved. The first two pictures I had through the filter with the sun in it were these.

which show the movement, but of course the strength of the filter means that everything else in the scene is blacked out. For a backdrop, I’d taken a photo of the general scene without the filter.

The scenery is too dark and the sky too bright, but this is the sort of thing that can relatively easily be fixed, using my favourite RAW editor, DxO Photolab.

 

So: I had 20 images of the sun on a black background and a general scene to place them in.  For this, I had to use a different editor; my general image editor of choice, for historical reasons, going back decades, is Corel Paintshop Pro.  To create an image I “simply” had to load the backdrop image and the 20 sun images and then layer the suns over the backdrop – another rathole to spend some time in. So I ground my way through a repetitive process of adding image layers, and this was the final result – cropped in a bit to avoid a couple of defects in the backdrop.

Despite its defects, I have to say I was pretty pleased with it, bearing in mind the amount of guesswork that went into it. For social media purposes, I thought it should make pretty much the impact I was after, so I posted it, and it seemed to get a pretty good response from those that its algorithms bothered to showed it to.

The Nikon photos were all lovely and sharp, but individually didn’t tell much of a story. I wondered whether it might be possible to make a video from them, simply centring each frame on the sun and fading between them.

It’s one way of looking at it, I guess, but not all that inspiring. I wondered if I could animate the time series somehow, which led me to revisit a previous rathole. Looking at the individual Sony images revealed some red fringes around each of the suns. So I had to re-edit all the pictures to remove those, and also spent quite a lot of time trying to to improve the backdrop by making the top a little darker.  But I emerged from the rathole with this.

There are notable defects in al of this content, but all in all I’m not dissatisfied with it as a day’s work.  It’ll certainly stand me in good stead for the next one in the UK, which is in….oh, wait….2090.

Bugger.

Never mind. Maybe I can find another eclipse somewhere else. Watch this space.