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Magic Lantern Guides: Pentax Classic Cameras: K Series M Series Lx Series Spotmatic Series

If you have a classic Pentax, this invaluable guide has the information you've been searching for! Here's the lore, terminology, techniques, tips, and shortcuts for taking fantastic pictures with these vintage cameras--among the best ever produced. Even the original manuals didn't delve into the details so deeply. Get all the facts on speeds, apertures, focusing, depth of field, loading, flashbulbs, and camera maintenance. Then go through the individual series--including the Spotmatics, the Pentax K series, the M series, and the LX--learning everything from the batteries they need to lenses and flashes and a full assortment of accessories. No Pentax owner can do without this! 160 pages, 65 b/w illus., 5 x 7 1/2.

As I the weather is still awful I'll continue blogging. This is an entry from a journal I kept on the archaeological dig I mentioned with reference to the last pic.

Friday, July 28 [2000}
Today was one of the more fascinating days. We went through the usual routine in the morning, although this time without Gavin, who was sorely missed. It was funny on the hill. Erin Roberts, our square supervisor [dig square] slept it out. Greg (with the cowboy hat) was also absent, because he had a violent allergic reaction and had to be carted off to hospital by Termite, who also did not make it. Another square supervisor who did not get there was Sara who shares a room with Erin and slept it out for the same reasons. Then Jack Olive, the dig director, slept it out or something. We - Bryan, Molly, Kate, Sam Edwards and myself had to prepare the Square 26 for a photograph. We did so rather badly and Marion Goldstein, the dig photographer, had to climb into the square and dust it herself.

Second breakfast arrived at half-eight a.m. and all of the square supervisors (except Greg) showed up. Erin and Sara read poems of apology but made sure to blame the Michigan Expedition partiers who made noise nonstop last night. They were celebrating the finish of their work. Killian MacAleese [an Irish classmate, he had actually been responsible for ALL the noise] left the kibbutz this morning, sometime, since he was finished.
Anyhow, it turned out Bobbi had a lucky escape although she was badly bruised. Doug Oakman accidentally knocked over a heavy stone that fell into the pit in which Bobbi was dusting. The stone grazed her back, but did quite a lot of damage. She went home early with the breakfast van.
Canadian Brian (as distinguished from Shirtless Bryan) is leaving on the weekend. He works down in Square 13 with Doug Oakman. However, since today was his last day on the dig he wanted to get some photographs with his fancy Pentax camera which he bought just for the trip. Since he knew I had visited the tombs on Cana he asked me to be his guide so that he could get some photographs. Needless to say I jumped at the chance not to do work for a while.

So we headed down the hill to the tombs. Brian was not mad on the idea of large insects, in particular the giant cave crickets, so I said I would go in ahead and clear any nasty invertebrates out of the way. The first cave was fine, there were no hostile invertebrates. Some webs, but little signs of life.
It was a tomb complex that was never constructed [completed]. Only one tomb had been carved inside, and it had not been properly completed. Brian came in and got the pictures he wanted. He really enjoyed himself.

Next we went to the cave that was just south of the largest one that had the tree. This was more interesting than the first, I remembered. In the pit was the rubbish of generations, including newspapers and plastic bags. However, I could see in the entrance of the tomb complex the spiny bush which I had sat on the first time I had come to the tombs. An uncomfortable memory, to say the least.

Anyhow, my plan was to cautiously enter and move around the spiny plants, and then slowly dislodge any invertebrates.

I slowly climbed in the doorway and slid along the wall in the wake of a large grey gecko. Once inside I lit my flashlight and scanned around the cave. I prepared to move the thorn bush, which was more-or-less a dusty dead plant.

As I moved the light I caught sight of what appeared to be some kind of fancy textile. Then I thought it was a fancy leather belt, then I saw coils and thought it was a fancy hat or turban. Then it began to move.

Suddenly the white zig-zags against the brown took on a new meaning, The viper's head rose. I realised it was a Blunt-nosed Viper [it was actually a Palestine Viper - Vipera palestinae]. I knew its venom would probably not kill me [wrong] but being sick was not what I wanted. I realised that if I made any attempt to get out I would probably be bitten. If it had not been for the thorns I would probably have stepped on the creature.

My instantaneous reaction was to bellow and swear at Brian not to enter. I was now trapped and had to think for a few moments. I figured that the snake was probably more scared, so I began to kick dust at it. What I thought was a small reptile unravelled to two metres in length and wound its way rapidly into the first tomb of the complex.

As for me - I bolted out the doorway a whiter shade of pale. Brian and I could only laugh. He had hurt his knee because it turned out that he was on his way in when I began to yell at him. In the rush to get clear he smashed his knee off the stonework.

We then went to the cave with the big tree. I was extra, extra cautious. There were giant crickets all over this one but neither of us cared. If there is anyhing to be learned from this it is
Giant crickets = safe tomb/cave
Geckoes = not good indicators.

The tomb complex with the tree is pretty cool. Possibly t

The year was 1979. Jimmy Carter was president. Steve Martin’s ‘The Jerk’ was playing in the theaters and I was in the tobacco fields. This I believe was a tribute to a family history where the younglings went to work in the fields as cheap labor. Each summer I would leave the luxury of going to the beach everyday in Wilmington for the fields of eastern North Carolina. The days would start early and end late. It was hot and miserable. The noise of the tractor combined with the machinery and the leaves flapping against your face were enough to put you in your own world of hell. The only thing that got me through these weeks of horror was the dream of what I would spend my $1.25/hour wage on. Yes, most was saved for school clothes, but the rest was mine to spend. This fine summer, the debate was between diving gear I had seen in the Sears and Robuck catalog each night before bed and this Pentax K1000 SLR camera. I think I made a good choice. There is no way in hell my parents would have allowed me to go diving in the sounds around Wrightsville beach as a 10 year old, but they let me take pictures. I soon parted ways with my old 110 style camera (wish I still had it) and learned how to use a manual camera. This is one of the early model K1000’s and is built like a tank. Every few years, I shoot a roll on it. It is and will always be an amazing camera. If I could put a digital back on it, I would be in the heaven that delivered me from the hell of the tobacco fields once again.