London Calling – Traveling with a Canon AT-1

The Minolta SRT-102 did not speak to me. It was a very serviceable camera, and in looking at the photos that I shot with a better understanding of aperture and shutter speed, I could note that she captured good frames, but she did not capture my heart. For one reason or another, I was lured by the AE-1, but with about one week to go before my trip in early May, I was unable to source one on the local market. That is when I found the AT-1.

This belonged to a dead dude, and his neighbor sold it to me for $50usd. Unknown condition as a battery is required to operate, and it was dead for God knows how long before I acquired it. It did come with film in the camera, so I shot it and took it to get the film developed. I thought it worked, but then again, I knew nothing about what I was looking at, and whether it was a good camera. One day before my trip, another AT-1 came up locally, and I bought the one for $60usd. While I knew the Minolta shot, and worked, I abandoned her for the Canon, and as I am in the airport, my film from the AT-1 arrives via email. The pictures are purple. So strange and bizarre. I phoned the camera shop and the employee said that it could be old film, and that I should have the confidence to shoot the camera it in Europe regardless of these results.

It didn’t take long to get to grips with the camera. The Canon AT-1 is no nonsense. Match the needles and shoot. It’s sturdy and durable, and it looks unassuming, so I wouldn’t worry about losing it, or for the price, it being stolen. She’s rugged, and serviceable. She may not win me awards or get me world class recognition, but she stuck with me. My sweet baby AT-1.

London

So we land in London at night. No photos, After 12 hours of being in a plane, it was time to partake in some boosery and see what night-life was like across the pond. I met this dude who alleges he stole 4 million quid online from drug dealers through some silk-road type deal, and wasted it all, save for a nice flat near St. Pancras Train Station where I was staying. I asked him to show me his city, but he was not a very good drinking partner, and did nothing to lure some nice lasses to this newly international Mexican Playboy. I got trashed, got home, and woke up bright and early to load my Canon for the days events.

I shot a bunch around the Train Station, and the neighborhood there. I saw this Headstone in a graveyard that read “Here lies Elizabeth Thomas, second wife to Patrick Thomas.” It struck me that this woman would be known for eternity as second place. After some fuss with the security at Craven Cottage, I was able to get my camera in to snap pictures and catch Man City in full Champions-of-the-World mode as they smashed Fulham. I snapped and snapped as much as I could while I was out there, and somehow managed to get in the front row for the second half. It wasn’t until I got back to develop the film that I noticed that the film was not properly loaded. Such is life.

That same night, I loaded some new film and hit the tube for York Hall to catch some pugilistic action. Boxing is the best sport – bar none. Unapologetically, it is the best sport, and I was pretty hyped to shoot there, and even ran into Campbell Hatton, son of the legendary Ricky Hatton. The security guards knew I was here on a once-in-a-lifetime trip, and let me sneak into the higher priced section to get a little bit closer to the action. Most of the people there were cool, except for one Brit that thought I was hitting on his gal. Lucky for me, earlier that night, I shot some locals at their request, who were able to persuade this guy not to get into an unsanctioned bout with me in the concessions. I blacked out at some point throughout the night and woke up the next morning for another fun day.

The next morning I went out again and shot more around St. Pancras. Then I went to see the Changing of the Guard, followed by the National Gallery, London Eye, a boat tour of the River Thames, and capped it off with a comedy show. I regret that English comedy is simply not as funny as American comedy. It’s like watching American futbol compared to the Premier League. I digress…

The National Gallery got some attention with the AT-1, however it was not until my return to the states that I found a valuable lesson: A masterpiece should be appreciated, its beauty cannot be conveyed through HP5 B&W. Anyway, that night my buddy Thomas and I tried to get some food and found this Mongolian who invited us to follow him to the best food in London at 11:00pm on a Sunday night- in China Town. We went down there and purchased duck and fried rice, and they even sold us a beer to-go. They also warned us about immigrants from Africa that would rob a pair of unassuming foreigners if we weren’t mindful, but thankfully we escaped that particular fate…

That was part 1: London. Next Stop: Paris.

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