No sky replacement and nothing in particular that I can think of to cause what you are seeing. I will look at my edits to check. Not seeing what you see. Maybe something if the jpeg export. I don’t like the sky that much in the second photo (of the trail) but it’s not a replacement.
It's the first photo I was referencing. If the sky wasn't replaced, then the exposure was shifted so much between the land and the sky that it makes the horizon line that follows the buttes look cut out.
The second photo looks completely normal at the intersection of the land and sky.
I've received the Simera 21mm f/1.4 ASPH for review and will be comparing it side by side with the Voigtlander 21mm f/1.4 Nokton, both in M-mount. I'll post the results here as well.
For years, I've been watching cyclists ride past from my car. And I've envied them. They ride so easily. A couple of weeks ago, I bought a bike too, a simple, inexpensive one. I wanted to try it out, in case the pedaling wasn't as easy. But I did it. I love it. I get up at two in the morning and go looking for a beautiful sunrise. I'm happy.
A great sunrise was forecast, so I decided to catch it out in the marsh—and feed my "Hound of the Baskervilles" while I was at it. It had been a while since I was last there. I left home at 2:20 AM, unsure of the travel time, since I still had to haul my bike along waterlogged paths and across the raised bog to reach the spot. I arrived at 4:40 AM—still two hours until sunrise. Time to wait. I found a relatively dry patch and lay down. I actually fell asleep for 45 minutes. When I opened my eyes, the sky was already starting to put on a show, though it wasn't spectacular—the forecast hadn't quite panned out. I brewed some "faux-coffee," polished off a bun, and headed home. The ride was only 44 km, yet I was absolutely wiped out. On the way back, I even had to cross two streams that ATVs had churned into a muddy mess. Still, I was happy.
A great sunrise was forecast, so I decided to catch it out in the marsh—and feed my "Hound of the Baskervilles" while I was at it. It had been a while since I was last there. I left home at 2:20 AM, unsure of the travel time, since I still had to haul my bike along waterlogged paths and across the raised bog to reach the spot. I arrived at 4:40 AM—still two hours until sunrise. Time to wait. I found a relatively dry patch and lay down. I actually fell asleep for 45 minutes. When I opened my eyes, the sky was already starting to put on a show, though it wasn't spectacular—the forecast hadn't quite panned out. I brewed some "faux-coffee," polished off a bun, and headed home. The ride was only 44 km, yet I was absolutely wiped out. On the way back, I even had to cross two streams that ATVs had churned into a muddy mess. Still, I was happy.
A great sunrise was forecast, so I decided to catch it out in the marsh—and feed my "Hound of the Baskervilles" while I was at it. It had been a while since I was last there. I left home at 2:20 AM, unsure of the travel time, since I still had to haul my bike along waterlogged paths and across the raised bog to reach the spot. I arrived at 4:40 AM—still two hours until sunrise. Time to wait. I found a relatively dry patch and lay down. I actually fell asleep for 45 minutes. When I opened my eyes, the sky was already starting to put on a show, though it wasn't spectacular—the forecast hadn't quite panned out. I brewed some "faux-coffee," polished off a bun, and headed home. The ride was only 44 km, yet I was absolutely wiped out. On the way back, I even had to cross two streams that ATVs had churned into a muddy mess. Still, I was happy.
In your sequence of pictures I see many changes to your bike. I guess the more time spent on it the more you learn what is important to have on it (ie, rear fender, gear bags, what is the tape for?)
