Day 5, July 27

The Harrison method has been assimilated. Let the horizontal distance of the camera lens to the right or left of the position of the original station be the x coordinate, the distance front to rear from the original position be the y coordinate, and the distance above or below be the z coordinate. A ratio of two distances along the x (horizontal) axis of the original photograph is used to generate a quantitative measure of the camera position of the attempted repeat relative to the original camera position. The x axis ratio in Smith's analysis is the distance from point C' to point B (C'B) over the distance from point A to point C' (AC'); hence C'B/AC'. The y (forward-and-back) coordinate is arrived at by comparing the distance between two points at approximately the same distance from the camera, CB, between the original and attempted repeat. The z (vertical) coordinate uses three points at the same height but at different distances from the camera, hence the ratio F''C/E''F''.

These ratios are normalized to unity "1" in the original. A value of less than 1 in a repeat along the x axis indicates that the camera is to the left, if the value is greater than one, the camera is to the right. A value greater than 1 of the y coordinate of the attempted repeat indicates that the camera is too close. A value greater than 1 of the z coordinate of attempted repeat indicates that the camera position is too high.

Comparisons with photograph J27 001 suggested that Smith's camera position was very slightly to the right, too close, and too high.

Day 4, July 26

Coffee at Pearl's: 3 hours. Began to work out the Harrison method for relocating an unmarked camera station. Started working on the problem of measuring distances between points on the historic and repeated trial for comparison.

Prince of Wales Hotel Lounge: 3 hours. Two pints of grasshopper, one bison burger (cheese and bacon) with fries. Wrestled with image editing software.

The hotel is refreshingly unrenovated. Dark faded carpeting. Tapestries of hunting scenes. Black and white photos of unrecognizable royalty from a generation past, wearing top hats, holding cigars, advancing across the Alberta grassland on the top of the hill.

Day 3, July 25, Part II

Smith hopped out of bed at sun up, and was off to scan the "negs" from the day before. I got up some time later, and after tidying up the mobile research institute, went to meet her at the local conveyor of coffee and internet service, which is known in these parts as "Pearl's." Pearl's seems to be a kind of "Lord of the Flies" arrangement as there is not an adult in sight behind the counter. The young proprietors, the eldest of which could not be a day older than 14, could barely see over the counter. As I got there, they were rushing around in a frantic manor as they were being hammered by the morning rush of visitors to the park for whom coffee is an energetically pursued habit. Coffee was drunk, strategy was discussed, and logs were filed.

Back up to the Prince of Wales Hotel Hill. Scarcely had we set up the tripod before Smith was stung by a wasp. Odd for such a windy outcrop, and odder that upon being stung, she started to receive a supernatural amount of attention from all manor of flying insect. Not only determined wasps, but tiny hover flies, butterflies, and moths, began to try to land on her. This naturally prompted some cussing and stamping of feet.

It has begun to dawn on my foggy and unschooled intelligence that it is conundrum of some significant confoundation to locate and reoccupy an unmarked camera station. A cairn or stake marking the site would of course do the trick, but such a luxury is quite out of the question in our situation. There are no conveniently placed identifiable objects, and old Bert Riggall could not have been expected to communicate his precise location to an unimagined expedition from 100 years in the future. Luckily Smith has knowledge of an ingenious technique that was concisely described by A. E. Harrison in the journal Geology in 1974. The way forward is to compare distances on the old and new photograph with respect to an arbitrary axis. Anyway, this peach of a geometrical puzzle has sparked my imagination, and I find myself sitting and moving my hand up and down or in and out along imagined lines in space. I will endeavour to articulate the technique in subsequent entries.

On the way down from the hill, I was loaded down in a lop-sided way from the tripod and caught a rock with the front tire of my bicycle causing me to soar over the steering bars into a bush. The landing was among the softest that I have ever encountered, however my wrist doesn't turn the way it should today. Smith suggested, on account of her insect bites and my fall that we enjoy some iced cream at "Ye Olde Lick And Nibble,"a purveyor of sweets with a medieval theme.

Day 3, July 25, Part I

S: (n) ratio (the relative magnitudes of two quantities (usually expressed as a quotient))

Day 2, July 24

Waterton was shrouded in cloud that morning. Soon it started to rain. I followed Smith on a sodden bike ride up to the Warden's office to obtain a key to the "Research House." I was cold and wet already, and began to fear that my career as a field assistant would be short-lived. But, with much jubilation, the clouds began to recede and the rain subsided. I was even able to hang up my socks to dry them for a few short moments, between when Smith was barking orders.

Next objective: Move the instruments of analysis into the basement of the Research House. As I was carrying boxes down the stairs of this odd domicile, I noticed an official looking advisory on the wall stating "Radon gas has been detected in the basement of this building. Ensure proper ventilation." Smith assured me that Radon gas is odorless, and would only be found insignificant amounts, but I was sure that I smelled the strange odor of burnt canola oil, and stale bones. I also observed that at least one researcher in one of the research teams based in the Research House seemed to be engaged in a hair-ball study, as there were numerous specimens scattered around the radon ridden basement. But this location, it seemed to me, would serve perfectly well for Smith to mix the chemistry, and develop the images.

After setting up the developing and analysis station in the basement, we were off into the field. We loaded tripods, various image capturing devices, and all manor of instruments into packs, and hoped on our two-wheeled steeds. I am quite sure that Smith's pack was at least twice as heavy as mine.

Once on the "Prince Of Whales Hotel Hill," behind the historic "Prince of Whale Hotel," perched on the, uh, aforementioned hill, we elbowed our way to the front of the other image takers, and began to compare the vista to the historic Riggall image. I was struck by how much the historic image took in. The naked eye must scan and track in order to apprehend what the picture records.

We eye-balled and eye-balled, matching up ridgeline intersections, and trying to identify rock features in the foreground. It was hard for me to imagine Bert Riggall standing there with one other person, before the hotel was built, with the constant stream of tourists from around the world rushing to the edge of the hill and snapping off shots.

Back to the Research House to develop the film, then Smith treated me to half a calzone at the local Pizzaria, then a brisk hike up the "Bear's Hump," and back down in the dark to the campground to bed.

Day 1, July 23

The next morning we were up shortly after dawn. Smith drove the first leg. Where antelope brush used to play, now the irrigated rows of grape vines. Too early for the fruit stands to be open. People in that area seem to want to remind travelers that they are not in a national park, as there were several signs, red lettering on white background, reading "No National Park."

The institute climbed through high passes, to descend again just as far into the next valley, just to climb once more. Around Salmo, the terrain began to turn towards my liking, and it reminded me of my younger days in the Rockies.

Lunch in Creston, located in a lush wide and windy valley. Supplies in Cranbrook. A dinner of sushi in Fernie. Then out onto the prairie sentineled by a company of windmills. We vered south. The sky touched the ground, erasing the mountains that would have been to our right. Past Twin Butte.

Smith received a warm welcome at the gate of Waterton National Park: "Oh, we were waiting for you!"

Day 0, July 22

Day 0

Smith woke much earlier than I, and began organizing the field-gear. I could hear her checking her kit: "ruler, compass, level, ...". I got up in time to move some things to the van; err, "mobile research institute."

Soon enough, we were off. And after a short stop in Deep Cove, we were charging across the Straight of Georgia on the "Queen of Sannach." Then into the heavy traffic of the lower mainland in order to retrieve the historic camera from the grandson of Bert Riggal.

Noodles in Surrey, and on to hwy3; the famed "Crow's Nest Pass." It started raining as the sun went down in a blaze of orange behind us. Darkness and fog raising off the road near "Manning Provincial Park." I wanted to find a campsite, as I had had a busier day than I am used to. We camped shortly after Princeton, which lay in the valley lite up like the landing site of a ufo.