Monomad: Gaining some altitude

I have had my DJI Mini 2 for a few years now, and there have been a few things with it I've always been a bit scared of doing: going out real far where the connection could be lost at any moment with gusts of wind that kill off the battery life, but also the fear of height. Being from England, I couldn't really fly the drone that high anyway. Anything above 100 metres seemed like insanity given how active the skies were. Every day I'd hear and see various aircraft flying around at different altitudes. Fighter jets became the norm with the chaos of recent events. Jet engines roared the skies and vibrated down into the house. Helicopters flew so low you could make out the general features of its crew. And both commercial airliners and hobbyists would be coming in to land in and around London. The fear of flying the drone so high wasn't a fear that I'd lose the drone, but a fear that I could seriously do some damage to people in the air. I've always tried to be that cautious, actually aware drone pilot. A few risks here and there providing they never threatened anything nearby. But that itch to get new perspectives was always felt.

Coming to Armenia, there's something you notice quite quickly: the skies are empty. There are no hobbyist pilots. The only plane you'll see out of the main airport near Yerevan is cruising over the nation at around 35,000 feet. You barely even notice them. It's even rare to see any military movements, perhaps the odd Mi-8 Soviet helicopter, but again mostly exercising around Yerevan. This makes for some potential in how you operate a drone in the more remote areas. And yes, I have been exercising that potential!

Within a week, I broke my altitude record twice. One time I sent the drone up near Ararat at around 250 metres. Capturing some fun views of the landscape in the area, trying to capture more of the mountains but failing given the distance. Those images weren't that great in depicting just how high up it was, even when looking down. Mostly due to the trees and open fields. A generally flat landscape before the land connects with the base of the mountains. 250 metres was an insane jump up from around 100 metres. I still noticed how different the landscape began to look as the drone got higher. And that thrill kicked in knowing I could actually begin to do this here. Knowing it would be safe. Just me and the remote areas of Armenia. A few days later in the mountains, I was attempting to find a way around a blatant nonsensical barrier that stopped me in my tracks towards a Soviet era Radio-Optical Telescope. The main attraction in this area and the only reason I came to it. I put the drone up in the sky to see if I could find where exactly it was. To look around the landscape and see if it popped out suddenly. I didn't realise this one particular part of this flight: I was now at an altitude of 355 metres. I stopped the drone right there and double checked the numbers. A bit of panic set in upon the realisation of this height. I looked again at the screen and how everything now looked so small. And I was surrounded by mountains. Huge canyons that cracked deep into the land and went on into the horizon. They all looked like nothing. I put the drone's camera facing downward to get a view of myself, I couldn't see a thing. A mere outline of the car remained. A little white box on a small strip of road pulled out of the landscape.

I loved it. A completely new perspective with the drone. It felt like I had been looking from the window of a plane, down at a landscape that I couldn't comprehend how it must look from the ground. But I had. And I wanted more of both.

This accidental new record of altitude was short-lived, however. As I mentioned, I was intending to catch a view of a Soviet structure somewhere in the nearby mountain. At this point, I still hadn't really seen it. Only glimpses of something that was part of it nearby. No grand structure. I had an external battery with me, ready to (slowly) charge the batteries I had used back to their full capacity. Though I had no intentions of using more than one for a few short minutes. I snapped a few pictures of the area while using this battery, moving the drone around and capturing some of the surrounding views from this height. And very excited to do it again sometime, already imagining the views of other locations in the nation. The more natural areas sense in fog-coated trees. Natural lakes and rivers that run through the mountains. Shooting something other than rocky landscapes and winding roads. Not that I mind this either, of course. I got a few great videos later on of driving back down the mountain, filming the drive from behind with the drone that surprisingly caught up with the car to the point where it would constantly be overtaking the car. This little drone may bit a bit old now, but it packs quite a punch to it! An impressive little thing.

Though I do wish that battery life could be better. I hate knowing that I actually get about 20 minutes maximum. It's never enough! I want more time in the sky! The newer models have better batteries, but I don't have a reason to spend for that upgrade.

Anyway, this post is actually a little bit of context to setup the next post of mine. Which will finally show the black and white shots of the location I intended to check out. Photography of all sorts: from the drone, to the regular mirrorless Sony. To end the post, here's that little canyon. A feeling like you had stumbled into the entrance or exit to the world was felt here. Like you had no idea what could possibly sit on the other side.