A couple of snaps from Nigg, again. The same jackup rig as seen both in moonlight and sunlight, as I went walking around this area for quite a few days the last time I was at work. There's nothing much to say about them other than the obvious. The first one is from the old rangefinder handheld at about 1/2 sec or so done on some rough Kentmere 400 film. The daylight snap I think is from a Nikon FM2 on FP4 film.
I just went outside to have a quick look around the horizon, and were able to count 24 rigs quite easily visible even though the weather and visibility is not 100% perfect. I know we are close to the norwegian borderline, so a few of these 24 rigs are surely norwegian ones. I can easily see and recognize the Statfjord (A, B and C) and a couple of other norwegian fields, I've been there a lot some six to eight years ago you know, and they have not changed much obviously.
Oh, and about dogs then;
I'm a dog person. For some reason they seem to connect with me in some kind of strange way. The two above came over to me the last time I was walking around the area of Nigg in Scotland. Came out of nowhere on the beach they did, and one of them carried a ball which was placed right in front of my feet before the two of them took the above shown position with their eyes glued to the round thing.
I played with them for ten minutes or so before the poor owner came to some sort of rescue. A fairly aged man with not very much oomph back in his legs, but with a very clear voice and head I should hasten to add. We talked for about half an hour as I also tried to keep the two four legged ones busy by throwing the ball in every thinkable direction.
The ball disappeared, and I thought that would be the right moment to sneak away, as the two dogs did not want me out of there for some reason and right now they were very busy trying to locate the ball.
I left and had probably walked for about 500 meters or so when the busiest of the two dogs suddenly appeared again, with the ball ready of course.
So I turned around and walked back as I constantly threw the ball into the direction of the owner. Nothing worked. I actually had to stay at the car for the old man to get the dogs back inside of it.
He told me he have had dogs for about seventy years, and that he had never experienced something like this before... ever.
I was more or less waiting for him to ask me if I would take them, but luckily he never did. I mean what good would ever come out of that? The dogs would have to learn the norwegian language, or I had to speak some strange scottish dialect for them to understand me and everything. Nah, that would just get very frustrating for some of us in the end.