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ODC-Hats
We have a variety of caps. These ones are from Filsons. It's a great store. We used to shop there in Boston.
Every day keeps surprising me with astounding moments here. I can't help but try and capture them and share them with you. Thank goodness for this wildly beautiful world of ours.
Waaaaaay too much crap in this thing...! ;-)
The bag's a "Filson". There's an open pocket for reading material in the back and two buttoned pockets in the front with two open pockets on the sides and an open top with a flip over "lid" that can get lashed down with the leather straps in brass buckles... Well made, but heavy. Probably not really a good idea to use this bag (medium field bag) for a laptop bag because it's just too much to carry around for too long. (I found that out the hard way...)
(Will look for a better bag for all of this stuff, eventually...)
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A note about Geocaching:
In Geocaching, people who are non-geocachers are called "muggles", like in harry potter (you muggles...! ;-)
In Geocaching, you look up the coordinates of a cache (pronounced 'cash') on the web (at geocaching.com, or at another website called terracaching or something, I've only used geocaching.com so far...) and then you use your GPS receiver (GPS stands for Global Positioning Satellite) to find it, and then when you find it you sign its log and / trade for some cool swag that people leave in there (but you're only supposed to be allowed to take things if you leave things too, a general rule is "leave more than you take") and then you log it on the internet on Geocaching.com and you rack up statistics / points.
Some Power-Cachers have got something like 7000+ finds (Good God...!)
Trust me, it's fun...! ;-) And great for kids...! (Uhh... if you've got some...)
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(there was an article in today's Calendar Weekend section in the L.A. Times about Geocaching):
www.calendarlive.com/cl-wk-cover16feb16,0,4258110.story
CALENDAR WEEKEND
Cache prizes
The high-tech treasure hunt known as geocaching draws legions of GPS hobbyists — but not without some controversy.
By Hugo MartÃn
Times Staff Writer
February 16, 2006
"Do we go right?" Jack Ogborn asks his partner, Shirley O'Connell, as the couple hike up a dirt trail at the base of the Verdugo Mountains in Glendale. O'Connell's eyes are fixed on a hand-held GPS device that tells her their quarry is a few yards away and to the left, near a low-hanging maple tree.
They stop when they reach the coordinates displayed on the tiny screen and begin to root through a patch of dried weeds and shrubs.
"I found it!" Ogborn says, pulling out the hidden treasure: a camouflage-colored container filled with plastic toys.
Just then, a man in baggy shorts walks by and gives the couple a suspecting stare.
"Muggles," Ogborn sneers at the hiker. It's a term from the Harry Potter fantasy books, used to describe nonmagical folks. In Ogborn's world, muggles are people who don't understand or appreciate geocaching.
Only two years ago, this retired couple from Arleta were muggles themselves. Now, geocaching is their passion.
"We love it," O'Connell says. "We get caches, exercise and entertainment."
Geocaching is a hobby that combines hiking and treasure hunting with the latest advances in portable global positioning system devices. Cachers, as they like to be called, hide waterproof containers — caches— and mark their exact locations with GPS coordinates that are posted on the Internet. Other cachers get the coordinates, punch the numbers into hand-held GPS receivers and follow the digital directions to the hidden prizes.
What's inside the containers — usually cheap knickknacks, plastic toys and a logbook — is not significant. It's the challenge of the hunt that fuels this sport. Serious cachers compete to uncover the greatest number of caches. The world champion claims more than 12,000.
The hobby is surging in popularity, almost doubling in new players annually for nearly six years. And now is the time of year when the pastime gains the most newcomers. More geocaching converts are born in December, January and February, because that is typically when people who receive GPS units as Christmas gifts discover that the hand-held devices have some recreational uses besides locating the nearest Starbucks outlet.
But geocaching is not as simple as following directions from a GPS unit, which is accurate to within 10 feet at best. At the satellite coordinates, a cache might be placed inside a fake rock, a plastic apple, a man-made bird nest, even a knot in an oak tree. A cache can be as big as a car battery or as small as a pencil eraser. The extremely difficult caches come with clues posted on the Internet.
Ogborn and O'Connell's favorite cache was in an Oxnard park where the GPS device led them to a patch of green grass. At the spot, they found nothing but a lowly snail. They gave up, but returned a few days later to find the same snail in the same spot. The snail, which was fake, was the cache and contained a tiny scroll instead of a logbook.
Cachers track the birth of the hobby to May 1, 2000, the day President Clinton signed legislation giving the public access to extremely accurate satellite signals previously reserved for the military. Within days, computer-savvy adventurers began posting Internet GPS coordinates for hidden treasures in Oregon, California, Kansas and Illinois.
Today, geocaching has grown into a sport with about 1 million players worldwide, enthusiasts who rummage through parks, trails and city streets in search of more than 222,000 caches in 219 countries, according to Geocaching.com, a leading geocaching website. There are now caches in Bosnia-Herzegovina, Cambodia and Lebanon. A brazen soul even put a cache in the arm of a statue of Saddam Hussein in downtown Baghdad.
Attend a geocaching party and you are likely to meet baby boomers and retirees with an affinity for high-tech gadgets, brain-draining puzzles and outdoor adventures. The banter will be laced with words such as "travel bug" (an item that is moved from cache to cache), "spoiler" (a hint that gives away a hiding spot), "swag" (the trinkets found in the cache) and "microcache" (a very, very small hidden container).
Sounds like a hobby for nerds? No doubt, but geocaching can be stimulating and addictive.
"It's the challenge of the search that we like," says Frank Marler, a Navy veteran who along with his wife, Sandy, has uncovered about 300 caches in about a year.
The hobby is not without controversy. Local, state and national park officials have mixed feelings about geocaching. Some park officials prohibit the hobby, and others allow it only with prior approval.
Though cache hunting encourages outdoor exploration, national park officials are wary of visitors who leave sealed containers hidden on public land, particularly since the terrorist attacks of Sept. 11, 2001. As a matter of federal policy, rangers are to confiscate all containers left for more than 24 hours on federal land.
Rangers say that some cachers damage parkland by wandering off established trails and slogging through vegetation for the best hiding spot. A park ranger at the Mojave National Preserve uncovered a partially buried cache in a Native American archeological site. Kirk Gebicke, the preserve's supervising park ranger, says the cache he pulled from a rock cove in the site four years ago was one of about 40 caches he and other rangers have uncovered.
"It's fun. I like doing it myself," he says of geocaching. But it can be destructive if cachers take the hobby into sensitive wilderness terrain, Gebicke says.
Park officials such as Gebicke suggest that cachers take part in an alternative pastime called "virtual caching." Instead of searching for a hidden treasure, cachers follow GPS coordinates to a "virtual prize," such as a scenic view from a mountain peak or a little-known landmark in a city park.
Bryan Roth, co-founder of Geocaching.com, concedes that some overenthusiastic cachers may damage the environment. But he says most cachers are law-abiding enthusiasts and concerned environmentalists. "We really don't want to damage the environment," he says.
The rules for geocaching are simple: If you find a cache, you may take a prize from the container but you must replace it with a prize of your own. Each cache includes a logbook to sign as proof of your find. In the case of microcaches, you sign a tiny scroll hidden inside. Money, food and drugs are not allowed in the caches. You may not bury a cache or damage the surroundings. If you hide the cache on private land, you must get permission from the landlord.
Geocaching has no governing body or enforcement arm. It's a pastime that operates on the honor system, and as a result, debates over the ethical way of playing the game are common at geocaching gatherings and online forums.
One recurring discussion: Is the ultimate goal to attain a high cache count or is it to experience great adventures, meet new people and explore the great outdoors?
For Steve O'Gara, an aerospace worker from Agoura Hills, the count is crucial. He ranks third in the world with more than 7,000 uncovered caches, an achievement he attributes to a technique he calls "power caching."
When O'Gara takes his girlfriend and 14-year-old son power caching, he strives to find as many caches as possible. His record is 102 in a day. If O'Gara can't find a cache within seven minutes, he doesn't linger to enjoy the scenery. "If you don't find it in seven minutes, you are not going to find it," he says.
To cut his search time, he concedes, he has forced his four-wheel-drive Jeep over hiking trails, sidewalks and public parkland. "I have no qualms about taking my Jeep over bushes," he says.
O'Gara, a loud, gregarious Harley-Davidson aficionado with salt-and-pepper hair, takes pride in his cache count. At a gathering of geocachers in a crowded pizza joint in Camarillo, he loudly reminds others of his lofty status in the geocaching world and playfully teases those who have yet to crack the 1,000-cache mark.John NOBLE, a longtime hiker from Thousand Oaks, cringes at such talk. He got hooked on the hobby three years ago and sees it as another way to enjoy the outdoors. He has uncovered more than 1,000 caches, often with his three children in tow. Noble, an avid environmentalist, makes it a practice to pick up litter as he hunts for caches.
Noble frowns upon O'Gara's technique.
"I enjoy the sport but that's not what it's about for me," he says.
"Steve will do anything if it means getting a cache."
O'Gara knows he is the subject of scorn from fellow cachers, but he doesn't lose any sleep over it.
"It's mindless fun," he says of the hobby.
And it can be risky. About a year ago, O'Gara was questioned at gunpoint when police spotted him and friends searching for a cache near railroad tracks in Riverside. After the officers holstered their guns, the police told O'Gara that they feared the cachers were terrorists plotting to disrupt rail service. O'Gara and his friends were released with a warning.
Marler, the Navy vet, says he was confronted about a year ago by two men who grew suspicious when they spotted him snooping around the gates of an elementary school in Point Hueneme.
"Once you explain it, people are usually pretty cool," he adds.
While O'Gara takes pleasure in uncovering caches, others, like Roland Herman of Thousand Oaks, delight in hiding caches.
Herman, the manager of a high-tech company, works in his garage in his free time creating lifelike caches that blend into the environment.
He takes pride in a real acorn he fitted with a tiny metal container that opens with a twist to reveal a tiny scroll inside. Herman hid the acorn in a hole in the bark of an oak tree.
Herman has also fitted caches inside fake bolts on trail signs. He once hid a cache in a split log that was held together by magnets and concealed another in a plastic egg hidden in an abandoned bird's nest.
"I get more fun trying to outwit them," he says of his fellow cachers. "When they find my caches, they get a real thrill from it too."
Back at the base of the Verdugo Mountains, Ogborn, 78, and O'Connell, 84, put away their hiking poles and decide to try a "multi-cache," a hunt that involves two or more locations and multiple GPS coordinates. The cache is in the final location.
The multi-cache should be a good challenge, says Ogborn, who, along with O'Connell, has uncovered more than 1,000 caches.
Ogborn opens the trunk of his Honda Accord to reveal a hoard of geocaching paraphernalia: dozens of plastic film canisters he uses as cache containers, plastic toys to put in the caches, rubber gloves for reaching into dark, dirty places and a step ladder for getting at caches in trees.
Ogborn is a retired gas company planner. O'Connell worked as a sales manager for a machinery firm. Two years ago, O'Connell's son introduced the couple to geocaching.
At the time, they stayed in shape by power walking at a local mall. Ogborn and O'Connell did not consider themselves outdoors enthusiasts or computer wonks, but after only a few cache searches they were hooked.
Now they attend geocaching parties, travel around the state in search of challenging quests and hide an occasional cache.
"You don't always know what you are going to get into in this world," says O'Connell, who, like her partner, is polite and soft-spoken but energetic.
The coordinates to the multi-cache lead the couple to a cul-de-sac behind a supermarket in La Cañada Flintridge. Ogborn becomes animated. He says the cacher who hid this is known for creating challenging hunts.
Ogborn's GPS receiver says the first clue is 400 feet south of the car. The couple eye the GPS device as they stroll to a set of newspaper racks in front of a post office. The GPS unit indicates the cache is somewhere in or around the newspaper racks. Ogborn puts on his rubber gloves and reaches behind and below the newspaper racks. Nothing.
O'Connell reminds Ogborn that this cache came with one clue: "Free homes, land and Cache."
One of the racks distributes a free magazine called "Homes and Land." The couple agree that the clue refers to that rack. Ogborn reaches under the rack and finds a tiny cylinder container, the size of a AAA battery, stuck to the bottom with a magnet. Inside the container, he uncovers a tiny scroll that reads, "Box 1062 displays your next clue."
Box 1062 must refer to a post office box in the nearby post office, the couple decide.
They are right. Inside the tiny glass door of Box 1062, Ogborn and O'Connell see a set of handwritten coordinates. Ogborn punches the numbers into his GPS device, which tells him that the final cache is 470 feet north.
The couple hike back toward their car at the end of the cul-de-sac. The GPS receiver directs Ogborn and O'Connell to a spot on the sidewalk, bordered by a scrawny tree and a knee-high bush.
There is nothing in the tree so, with his gloved hand, Ogborn reaches under the bush.
"He thinks he's going to get us on this last one," a determined Ogborn says of the cacher who hid the container.
The couple root around for a few minutes until O'Connell pulls out a green plastic water jug from behind the bush — the final cache. She pops open the lid and pours out the contents: a toy car, an eraser, a plastic coin, a pen and a logbook.
"That was a good one," Ogborn says as O'Connell signs the logbook. "It almost got me."
The couple put the jug back in its hiding place and shuffle back to their car. They buckle up and speed off.
Another cache is waiting to be found.
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And the REV drive (not shown), although not very popular it seems, is a really good idea / product made by Iomega (famous for their "Zip" drives of a few years ago). The REV disk shown is a magnetic platter inside of a sealed housing. The head to read the REV disk is in the REV drive, so the disks themselves are very robust (i.e. there's no head inside to bang around or mess up your disk when it's off / outside of the drive). It's some pretty cool technology for the backing-up arena. Iomega said that they built these things to last a long time.
Read time is similar to a slowish harddrive. Plus, 35 gigs uncompressed... how much data do you really have to back-up truthfully most of the time (I mean, essential data...? ;-)
The Filson Historical Society, founded in 1884, is a privately supported historical society located at 1310 South 3rd Street in Louisville, Kentucky. The Filson is an organization dedicated to providing continuing adult education in the form of quarterly peer-reviewed academic journal, Ohio Valley History, a quarterly magazine, The Filson, weekly lectures, historical tours, and exhibits.[1]
The Filson’s mission is to collect, preserve, and tell the stories of Kentucky and Ohio Valley history and culture. In 2017, the Filson began a new initiative to document, preserve, and study the history of Jewish life and experience in Louisville and the Ohio Valley region, establishing the Jewish Community Archive
One of my favorite shots from a recent project for Filson on flyfishing in The Sierra Nevada mountains.
Check out the full article here: fil.sn/FlyFishSierra
Filson recently commissioned me to do an upland bird hunting photo essay. I’m thrilled to be able to share it with you. You can view the full story on their blog: Filson Life
Most photographers will readily admit the search for the perfect camera bag is a never ending odyssey, and that they have a closet full of camera bags at home that they don't use. I was one of them, until three friends pointed me to what have become my three favorite camera bags: a Fogg bag, a Wotancraft bag, and a Filson bag.
Dan Tamarkin sold me a Fogg bag, Narayan Nayar hooked me up with Wotancraft, and my dear friend Joe Hohner literally blew me away by giving me a Filson Magnum Photo bag.
I'm a sentimental guy, and the Filson Magnum bag has become my favorite, for several reasons: 1) it was a gift from a dear friend, 2) it is an incredible bag from an iconic company, and 3) it just feels like the perfect bag.
While I was in Boston for the International Leica Society (LHSA) Annual Meeting, I noticed that the stitching on the heavy leather patch that anchors the shoulder strap to the bag had started to come unstitched. The result of the anchor giving way and my cameras falling to the ground was a disastrous thought, so I decided to search for an old-time shoe cobbler in Boston. Why? Because an old-time shoe cobbler can fix anything involving leather and stitching.
I was shocked to discover Ares Shoe Repair, an old-time cobbler's shop, was located only 1/2 mile from my hotel. When I arrived at 84 Charles Street, I had to walk down several steps from the centuries old brick sidewalk into a basement shop. As the door swung open, I was enveloped with the smell of an old-time cobbler's shop, that took my senses back to the days of my youth, when Buzz Robison had a cobbler shop in Brownstown, Indiana. The smell of leather, glue, and shoe polish is such a magnificent aroma that I can't begin to describe it adequately. I was no longer 67 years old, but instantly a 7-year-old boy back in Buzz's shop.
Armen Ketsoian finished speaking with a customer who was leaving, and turned to me asked how he could help me. I was so mesmerized I could hardly speak. I raised my wonderful Filson bag onto the counter and showed him the strap anchor that was coming loose. I could tell by the way he touched the bag, the way he examined the stitching, and the stains permanently etched into the pores of his fingers, that he could fix this precious bag of mine. He looked me in the eyes and said "I can fix this bag in one hour". I was dumbfounded. I handed him the bag. He gave me no receipt, didn't ask for my name or phone number, and yet I had no hesitation in handing a complete stranger in Boston my Filson bag. It was a rare moment of complete trust, without a spoken word, that was common back in 1959 but unheard of 60 years later in 2019. I walked back up the steps from his basement shop to the brick sidewalks of Charles Street.
Dona and I walked from his shop to the Charles River. It was a beautiful Monday morning and the though it was cool, the sun warmed us as we walked. We watched the squirrels running up and down the ancient trees in the park along the river. Dona noted that many of the trees had a small plaque denoting the species of the tree. We watched people doing yoga on the piers. We saw bikers and joggers and walkers. We finally found our way back to a Starbucks at Charles Street and Beacon Street and had a hot cappuccino, as we watched people enjoying the Boston Common. During the entire time, I never once had a second thought about my bag.
An hour later, we walked back down the steps at 84 Charles Street into Ares Shoe Repair shop. Armen met us with a smile and placed the Filson Bag proudly on the counter. "I repaired the stitching" he said, as he positioned the bag for me to clearly see his work. "And, I went ahead and shored up the stitching on the other strap anchor" as he spun the bag to show me the work he had done on the other end of the bag. It was magnificent, the work of a master cobbler, experienced in stitching heavy leathers. I said "how much do I owe you"? With a proud smile he said "twenty dollars". I couldn't believe it. Only twenty dollars.
I asked for the honor of making this photograph and he obliged. After I made it, I showed him. I then paid him and thanked him profusely for the service, noting how cobblers like him were nearly extinct. I could see by his expression how deeply that statement hit him. He spent the next several minutes explaining to me how cobblers would indeed soon be extinct. During the conversation I could sense his deep pride and affection for his craft. I told him how much I respected his work. I promised to write a great review on social media about my experience and he said that would mean a lot.
As I left, my heart felt warm, and happy, and fulfilled. Like it did so often when I was only 7 years old, back in 1959. When people genuinely respected one another, supported one another, and trusted each other. Not like it is now in 2019 when people degrade each other on Twitter as though humans were nothing more than trash meant for a receptacle. Except for this moment in 2019 when I left my Filson bag with Armen Ketsoian, a complete stranger in Boston. And when Armen Ketsoian left me with a glimmer of hope for this country.
© István Pénzes.
Please NOTE and RESPECT the copyright.
13th January 2023, Berlin
Hasselblad X2D 100C
Hasselblad XCD 38mm f2.5
This sign was found in the Ballard community not far from the Downtown Seattle Washington which has plenty of older buildings which are still in use it is like steeping back in time.
If you find your self in Seattle looking for some photographic buildings find your way over to Ballard.
Every day things go into pockets or bag before heading out the door. Sometimes a few more things, but never less than these. It's just part of getting dressed. What do you carry consistently each day? (2015:35/52)
Filson recently commissioned me to do an upland bird hunting photo essay. I’m thrilled to be able to share it with you. You can view the full story on their blog: Filson Life
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Talking the talk and donning the dud. Andreas Harr, Director of Marketing steps up to the retro mike wearing Seattle's finest at Toronto Filson's store. It was a media event to open the new Canadian outlet for the US clothing chain. Shop is at 694 Queen St.W in Toronto. The Seattle based company designs and makes high-end Northern bush wear for the urban hipster market #torontoevents #filson#filsontoronto #oldmangrant #hipsterfashion#queenstreetwest
I just got these gloves back as a replacement pair from Filson two days ago. Last night the dog decided to do some customization to them while we were at dinner. E was kind enough to knit me a new thumb!
Photo by E
Filson coat-hand-me-down from Hubby's auntie, bought on Kodiak Island by Hubby's mom, some 30 years ago (still appears to be in mint condition despite years of wear)
Scarf-free from the Dump
Bag-antique mall in Long beach
skirt-free from The Dump
Wellies-advance xmass present from Hubby.
thelittlehousebythesea.blogspot.com/
Filson briefcase original
Sigg bottle
Scotch & Soda hat
Nudie Alfred natural wallet
Moleskine Hardcover notebook
Casio G-Shock
Ironheart IH666-XHS
Samsung GS3
Muji Pensilcase
Leica m9p
Redwing boots
iPod Classic 160gb
Victorian Day in the Park at Los Encinos State Historic Park
Kodak No. 1 Autographic Jr.
Arista EDU 100 film
Semi-stand HC-110 dilution J (1:150) for 60 min