Filming on a boat with 1–2 (maybe 3) 360 cameras

(aka “How to record everything… including the bit where you forgot to press record.”)

There’s a special kind of confidence that comes from mounting a 360 camera on a boat. It whispers: “Relax — you’ll capture everything.” And then, five minutes later, you discover you captured everything except the moment you actually wanted… because the lens is covered in spray, the mount is slowly drooping, and the camera is politely overheating in the sun like a tourist in Benidorm.

Still: 360 cameras are genuinely brilliant afloat. They’re the closest thing we have to a time machine for sailing videos — you can choose the shot later, follow the action, and pull out angles you didn’t even know you needed.

Here’s how I’d set up one, two, or three 360 cameras on a boat, without turning the rig into a maritime hedgehog.

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1) The big idea: what story are you filming?

Before you stick cameras everywhere, decide what you want to show:

• Training / tuition: helm inputs, sail trim, crew coordination, manoeuvres, mistakes (and fixes).

• Vlog / family day: faces, reactions, “we definitely meant to do that”.

• Racing: starts, mark roundings, wind shifts, traffic, rules situations.

• Safety boat / filming boat: wider context, rescue practice, coaching perspective.

That “story” determines where cameras go. Otherwise you end up with 4 hours of beautifully stabilised… deck non-slip.

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2) The golden rules (before we talk camera count)

Keep it safe and boring

• Don’t mount anything where it can snag sheets, trap a toe, or become a projectile in a capsize.

• Use tethers. Always. If it’s not tethered, it’s already on the bottom.

• Avoid blocking escape routes (especially in dinghies).

Protect the lenses (because water loves lenses)

• A tiny smear on a 360 lens becomes a full panoramic smear.

• Use lens guards if you can, and carry a microfibre cloth in a dry pocket.

• Plan “wipe moments” (before a start, after a tack, after a dunking).

Audio is half the film

On-water audio is… enthusiastic. Wind and spray will try to remix your masterpiece into a sea shanty.

• If you can, use a separate mic (even a phone in a dry bag) for narration later.

• If relying on camera audio: use wind reduction settings, and accept that your best dialogue may be “WHEEEEE” and “WHO PUT THAT BUOY THERE?”

Power and storage: plan like a pessimist

• Use big cards, format beforehand.

• If you’re filming a long session, consider external power (but keep cables tidy and waterproofed).

• Nothing ruins morale like “Storage Full” when you’ve just nailed the perfect gybe.

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3) Best positions (the “invisible crew member” approach)

Think of a 360 camera as a crew member who never complains, never needs tea, and never says “are we there yet?” — but does need a good seat.

The best all-rounder: stern pole

• Great view of helm + crew + sails + wake.

• Works for dinghies and small powerboats.

• Keeps it out of the way (mostly).

• Bonus: the boat looks fast even when it isn’t.

The most useful for learning: centreline / cockpit

• Shows hands, ropes, sail trim, body movement.

• Risk: it can get kicked, soaked, or sat on by someone who swears they “didn’t see it”.

The cinematic shot: bow / forward-facing

• Gorgeous for scenery, waves, “we’re going on an adventure”.

• Less useful for sail handling unless you also capture cockpit.

The “coach view”: mast / high mount

• Fantastic overview of sail shape and manoeuvres.

• Harder to mount securely and safely.

• Check it won’t interfere with rigging, sails, or launching/recovery.

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4) Setups that actually work

Setup A: One 360 camera (the “simple and sensible” option)

Mount: stern pole or high-ish aft position
Goal: capture everything, choose angles later

What you’ll get:

• Wide context of manoeuvres.

• Crew interaction.

• Decent “TV style” reframes in editing.

Tip: With one camera, keep it stable, high, and centred. A droopy pole turns your film into “found footage”.

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Setup B: Two 360 cameras (the sweet spot)

If you do anything regularly (tuition, vlogging, racing), two cameras is where it starts feeling proper.

Camera 1 (main): stern pole
Camera 2 (detail): cockpit/centreline OR forward/bow

Why it’s great:

• Stern cam covers the “whole boat story”.

• Second cam gives you detail: hands, jib work, expressions, the moment someone says “I thought you had it”.

Pro tip: Synchronise with a simple method:

• Start both, then do a loud clap / tap a winch / shout something unmistakable (“MARK!” works) so you can line up audio in editing.

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Setup C: Three 360 cameras (the “small film crew”)

This is for coaching days, race analysis, or “we’re making a proper episode”.

Camera 1: stern pole (overall)
Camera 2: cockpit (technique)
Camera 3: bow or mast (context / sail shape / scenery)

The danger:

• More cameras = more battery management, more wiping, more mounts, more things to forget.

• You can absolutely spend the whole day filming and forget to sail.

Best use case: when you want to teach from the footage later (or make a detailed breakdown video).

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5) Settings: keep it reliable, not fancy

Without getting brand-specific, the “boat basics” are:

• Resolution: high enough for reframing (because you’ll crop a lot).

• Frame rate: 30 fps is fine for most; 60 fps helps for fast action and smoother reframes.

• Stabilisation: yes (boats wobble; the audience shouldn’t).

• Horizon lock/levelling: very helpful if your camera supports it.

• Exposure: auto is usually okay; watch out for bright water and dark faces. If you can, lock exposure once it looks good.

And please, for the love of sanity:
Do a 10-second test clip before launching.
It’s the difference between content creation and interpretive dance with a memory card.

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6) Editing workflow (so it doesn’t eat your life)

360 footage is wonderful… and also enormous.

A workable workflow:

1. Dump files into folders by date + camera position (Stern / Cockpit / Bow).

2. Make short “selects” first (best moments).

3. Reframe after you’ve chosen the story beats.

4. Use on-screen labels for learning videos (“Tack: jib released late” / “Too much tiller”).

5. Keep cuts tighter than you think. Water footage can be hypnotic — in the way watching a washing machine can be hypnotic.

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7) Quick checklist for the slipway

• Batteries charged + spares

• Cards formatted

• Lenses cleaned + cloth packed

• Mounts tight + tethers attached

• Cameras started + recording confirmed

• Quick sync clap

• “If we capsize, nothing becomes a spear” check

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Wrap-up

A single 360 camera is like having an extra pair of eyes. Two is like having a small production team. Three is like you’ve decided you’re Netflix now — which is fine, as long as you still remember to enjoy the sail.

If you want the simplest recommendation:

• Start with one stern pole camera.

• Add a cockpit camera when you want better learning footage.

• Add a bow/mast camera only when you’ve got the workflow nailed.

Because the goal is to capture the day — not to spend the day arguing with batteries.

 As Life Returns to the Garden… I Point a Multispectral Camera at It (Naturally)

There’s a moment every year when the garden quietly stops pretending it’s dead. One morning it’s all “grey, damp, and existential”. The next, you’re tripping over crocuses and discovering that the lawn has been photosynthesising behind your back. So, like any sensible person, I celebrated the return of spring by doing what any normal gardener would do: I brought out a multispectral camera.

Because why simply notice new growth when you can measure it, map it, and interrogate it under infrared like a plant passport officer?

1) The visible world: “Ah, lovely… green things!”

In normal light, early spring is all about subtle optimism: tiny shoots, swelling buds, and that suspiciously confident patch of weeds that clearly trained all winter. You get colour, texture, and the basic “is it alive?” check.

But visible light is also a bit of a liar. A plant can look “fine” and still be quietly struggling—too dry, too wet, nutrient-starved, or recovering from winter damage.

2) Near-infrared: “The plants are glowing. The weeds are thriving.”

Near-infrared (NIR) is where multispectral gets properly smug. Healthy vegetation reflects a lot of NIR, so vigorous leaves show up bright. Stressed plants reflect less. Suddenly the garden stops being “pretty” and becomes a health report.

This is the point where you discover:

• That shrub you’ve been worrying about? It’s actually doing alright.

• The lawn? Patchy in ways you hadn’t noticed.

• The weeds? Absolutely smashing it. (They always are.)

If you’re generating something like an NDVI-style view (a vegetation index), you can spot differences in plant vitality before the human eye sees much change. It’s not magic—just physics and chlorophyll doing what it does best.

3) Ultraviolet: “Everything looks like it’s been dusted in secrets.”

UV can reveal surface details and contrasts that are easy to miss in visible light—think waxy coatings, residues, and certain flower patterns. It’s not necessarily a “plant health meter” in the same direct way as NIR, but it’s brilliant for texture, detail, and ‘what on earth is that?’ moments.

Also: it makes the garden look like it’s starring in a low-budget sci-fi film. Which is a strong aesthetic choice for daffodils.

4) Practical uses (beyond ‘because it’s fun’)

Multispectral imaging can actually help with sensible garden decisions:

• Watering: dry-stressed areas can show up differently from well-watered ones.

• Lawn diagnosis: identify struggling patches early (compaction, shade, poor drainage).

• Comparing beds: which areas “wake up” first and which lag behind.

• Tracking changes: repeat the same shots weekly and you’ll build a proper spring timeline.

You don’t need to turn your garden into a research paper. But it’s strangely satisfying to match what you think is happening with what the spectrum says.

5) The real takeaway: spring is returning… and so is curiosity

The best bit isn’t the tech—it’s what it makes you do: slow down, look properly, and ask questions. Why is that corner always weaker? Why is the hedge brighter in one section? Why do the weeds appear to be receiving private tutoring?

So yes, life is returning to the garden. And this year, it’s returning in visible, infrared, and ultraviolet.

Next up: explaining to the neighbours why I’m crouched near the compost bin with a camera, whispering “Show me your chlorophyll.”

 

It Starts When You Need Something and It Doesn’t Exist

There’s a particular moment that triggers research and development. It isn’t a board meeting. It isn’t a grant application. It isn’t even a dramatic eureka with lightning and violins. No — real R&D starts when you’re halfway through doing a job and you realise the tool you need simply doesn’t exist. Or it does exist, but costs the same as a small bungalow and comes with a “licence fee” that makes your eyes water.

This is the point where normal people shrug and improvise. But if you’ve got the R&D itch, your brain immediately whispers: “Well… I could build it.” Suddenly you’re sketching something on the back of an envelope, mentally rummaging through your boxes of sensors, cameras, brackets, PVC tubing, spare bolts, and that mysterious bag of “useful bits” you refuse to throw away because it contains the future.

It’s rarely about being fancy. It’s about being practical. Teaching science? You need a rig that shows the experiment clearly, survives student handling, and doesn’t explode when someone plugs the wrong thing into the wrong thing. Filming a sailing session? You need a camera mount that doesn’t vibrate like a washing machine full of bricks. Trying to measure something properly? You discover that the “standard” apparatus is either missing, flimsy, or designed for a world where nobody ever drops anything.

Then comes the best bit: the prototype stage. Prototype One works brilliantly, as long as nobody breathes near it. Prototype Two is sturdier, but now it blocks the view of the very thing you wanted to film. Prototype Three is nearly perfect… except for the one tiny issue where it behaves beautifully in the lab and then immediately misbehaves outdoors because wind exists, water exists, and reality is rude.

And somewhere in all that tinkering, you end up learning far more than you would have done if you’d just bought a solution off the shelf. You learn what matters, what doesn’t, what fails first, and which “obvious” idea is only obvious until you actually try it. Most importantly, you build knowledge you can reuse: a method, a rig, a workflow, a sensor setup, a filming technique — something that becomes a repeatable system rather than a one-off bodge.

The punchline is that R&D doesn’t start with a lab coat. It starts with frustration. A missing bracket. An experiment that should be easy but isn’t. A piece of kit that’s nearly right but not quite. And if you’re the sort of person who can’t leave that alone… congratulations. You’re doing R&D. You’ve simply disguised it as “trying to get on with the job”.

 

Taking everything online

There was a time when “going online” meant you’d sent a slightly blurry email attachment and then made a cup of tea while the dial-up screamed in the background like a distressed seagull.

Now it means… everything. Lessons. Meetings. Booking systems. Homework. Payments. Resources. Marketing. Support. Video. Short-form. Long-form. Live. Recorded. Captioned. Clipped. Repurposed. Uploaded. Downloaded. Backed up. Backed up again (because you definitely backed it up the first time… didn’t you?).

And here’s the thing: taking everything online isn’t just “moving what you already do onto a screen”. Done properly, it’s more like building a second version of your business — one that works when it’s raining, when the student is home with a cold, when the roads are gridlocked, or when someone lives 200 miles away and still wants proper tuition.

The good news: online can be brilliant

When you’re teaching online with the right kit (and not balancing a laptop on a cereal box) you can get close to the best parts of being in the room together. Multiple cameras. Visualisers. Clear audio. Live annotation. Screen shares that don’t look like a CCTV feed from 1997. You can switch between a whiteboard, a close-up practical, and worked exam questions faster than a student can say, “Sir, my Wi-Fi’s doing a thing.”

For science and maths, it’s even better when you can show it. Practical demonstrations, live problem-solving, model answers, and that crucial moment where you stop the student from confidently adding the denominators “because it feels right”.

The less good news: online exposes the cracks

Going online is a spotlight. If your booking is messy, it becomes very messy. If your resources live in twelve folders called “NEW NEW FINAL v7”, online will find them… and laugh. If your communication relies on “I’ll text you later”, you’ll lose track the moment three parents message at once.

Online demands systems:

• A simple booking process

• A clear weekly routine

• One “source of truth” for resources

• A way to follow up without living inside your inbox

• A plan for what happens when tech fails (because it will, usually five minutes before a lesson)

The secret weapon: online scales the bits that matter

The best part is that online lets you reuse your best teaching. Explanations become videos. Worked examples become downloadable packs. Common mistakes become mini-clips. Revision plans become templates. Parents get clarity. Students get structure. And you stop repeating the same intro speech so often you start doing it in your sleep.

It also changes how people find you. Because once you’ve got your lessons, your resources, and your proof (videos, posts, results, testimonials) online… you’re not limited to whoever happens to live nearby and has heard about you at the school gate.

The goal isn’t “online”. It’s “better”

Taking everything online isn’t about chasing tech for the sake of it. It’s about making learning easier to access, easier to revisit, and harder to derail.

Online should mean:

• Less friction (students can turn up from anywhere)

• More clarity (resources in one place, not lost in a bag)

• More impact (better explanations, more practice, faster feedback)

And yes… it should also mean fewer moments where you hear:
“Can you see my screen?”
“No.”
“How about now?”
“Still no.”
“Oh. Right. I’m sharing the wrong thing.”

If you’re a teacher, tutor, creator, club organiser, or small business owner trying to “take it all online”, you don’t need to do everything at once. But you do need to do it on purpose: systems first, then shiny extras.

Because the internet is a wonderful place to teach — as long as it doesn’t become the place where your organisation goes to die.

 3D Printing in 2026 — Multi-Filament Magic, Snapmaker U1, and the Joy of Water-Soluble “Cheating”

There are a few moments in life when technology makes you stop, squint, and say:
“Hang on… that’s basically witchcraft.”

Multi-filament 3D printing is one of those moments.

Not long ago, changing filament meant hovering beside the printer like an anxious parent at sports day, ready to leap in at the exact moment it paused. You’d pull one filament out, shove another in, try not to drip molten plastic everywhere, and then pretend the crunchy bit on the print “was part of the design”.

Now we’ve got proper multi-filament exchange systems — and printers like the Snapmaker U1 pushing the whole thing towards “load it, start it, walk away” territory.

And then… someone looked at supports (the bane of every print) and said:
“What if we just… dissolve them?”

Reader, I have never felt so emotionally understood by a spool of filament.

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1) The progress: from “single colour bravery” to “multi-material grown-up printing”

Multi-filament isn’t just about pretty colour changes (although yes, I absolutely want a boat in club colours, and no, I will not be taking questions).

It’s also about materials:

• Rigid + flexible in one print (think grips, bumpers, seals)

• Strong core + cosmetic shell

• Different colours for labels, scales, arrows, safety markings

• Support material that behaves itself

The big leap is reliability. Early multi-material printing could feel like running a relay race while also juggling. Now the exchange systems are getting smarter: better sensing, better feeding, better calibration, fewer “spaghetti incidents”.

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2) Snapmaker U1: why it’s interesting (and what to watch)

The Snapmaker U1 is part of that new wave: printers designed from the start for modern workflows — not “a printer plus a collection of add-ons held together by hope”.

What makes a multi-filament system genuinely useful isn’t the marketing headline (“Up to X filaments!”). It’s:

• How cleanly it swaps (stringing and oozing are the villains here)

• How it handles purge/waste (more on that in a second)

• How well it keeps calibration (because “nearly aligned” is just “wrong” wearing a polite hat)

• How easy it is to keep running (loading, drying, unclogging, and general un-dramatising)

If you’re thinking about using it for real projects (fixtures, mounts, teaching aids, camera brackets, science kit parts), the practical question is:
Will it do the boring jobs predictably, not just the flashy demo prints?

That’s the bar.

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3) Water-soluble filament: the best kind of cheating

Supports are essential… and also awful.

They:

• weld themselves to surfaces you wanted smooth,

• snap off and take half the corner with them,

• leave scars that need sanding,

• and generally turn “print finished!” into “print finished… plus two hours of nibbling plastic with pliers”.

Enter water-soluble support filament (most commonly PVA or BVOH):

• Print your part in PLA/PETG/whatever

• Print supports in soluble material

• Drop the part in water

• Wait

• Supports vanish like they’ve remembered they left the oven on

For complex shapes this is game changing:

• internal channels

• undercuts

• trapped volumes

• intricate text

• mechanical parts that need clean moving clearances

It’s especially brilliant for education, where you want students to focus on the design and the science, not “the support removal trauma”.

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4) The less glamorous truth: soluble supports come with rules

Soluble filament is marvellous… but it’s also a diva.

Moisture is the enemy

PVA/BVOH loves absorbing water from the air. That means:

• popping and fizzing at the nozzle,

• weak, blobby extrusion,

• clogged hotends,

• and a print that looks like it’s been knitted by a spider in a hurry.

Dry storage isn’t optional. A filament dryer (or a very well-sealed dry box) suddenly becomes part of the “multi-filament lifestyle”.

Compatibility matters

• PLA + PVA/BVOH is a common pairing.

• PETG + PVA can be trickier because PETG prints hotter and can cause interface issues.

• Sometimes the best results come from tuning interface layers, temperatures, and cooling.

Purge/waste is real

Every swap usually means some purging. That can mean:

• purge towers,

• wipe lines,

• extra filament used,

• longer print times.

It’s the price of reliability — but it’s worth planning for, especially on long prints.

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5) What I’m using it for (and what you might too)

In the Philip M Russell Ltd universe, this is where it gets fun:

Practical kit

• Cable clips and strain reliefs for camera rigs

• Custom mounts for sensors, PASCO kit, and lab demonstrations

• Protective bumpers for equipment

• Brackets for lighting and sound gear in the studio

Teaching aids

• Colour-coded molecular models

• Cross-section parts (different colours for different layers/materials)

• Equipment replicas for “hands-on” learning without fragile originals

Sailing bits (because of course)

• Small fittings, covers, labels, organisers

• Prototypes for bespoke parts before committing to “real” materials

• Colour-coded training aids (port/starboard — fewer arguments, more sailing)

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6) Where this is heading

Multi-filament exchange + soluble supports is one of those combinations that takes 3D printing from:
“hobby printer that sometimes behaves”
to
“tool you actually rely on”.

The next big improvements are predictable:

• better auto-calibration for multi-material alignment

• less purge waste

• more intelligent material profiles

• more “just works” reliability (the dream)

And I am entirely here for it.

Because honestly, anything that reduces the amount of time I spend picking supports off a model like a crab opening a packet of crisps… is a technological miracle.