The $34 Full Rack Parade.

Every Ribfest has its own tradition.

Some people come for the live music. Some come to compare sauces. Some come just to smell the smoke drifting across the parking lot.

But Bob noticed another tradition.

The $34 Full Rack Parade.

As I wandered around with my camera, it seemed like every few seconds someone walked past carrying those familiar white takeout boxes. Some carried one. Others balanced two or three. Judging by the size of the smiles, nobody was complaining about spending $34 for a full rack of ribs.

The lineups told the whole story.

People stood patiently under the hot summer sun, staring at giant signs proudly advertising championships from all over Canada. While they waited, they debated which team had the best sauce, the best ribs, or the biggest trophies. Then, after finally reaching the counter, they walked away like they had just won the lottery—with a warm foam container tucked under one arm.

As a street photographer, I wasn't just photographing people.

I was photographing anticipation.

The man hurrying across the lot before his ribs got cold.

The couple carefully carrying lunch for two.

The family pushing a stroller while balancing dinner in the other hand.

The dad proudly holding a full rack while his son carried the drink.

Every photo told the same story in a different way.

One thing I also noticed was that hardly anyone opened their box right away. They all seemed determined to find the perfect picnic table, a patch of shade, or a quiet corner before lifting the lid. That moment of waiting probably made those ribs taste even better.

Looking at the menu boards, I couldn't help but laugh. A full rack was $34, a half rack was $18, and there were plenty of other choices. Yet judging by the number of people I photographed carrying those large containers, the full rack was clearly the crowd favorite. If you're already standing in line, you might as well go all in.

Sometimes the best street photography isn't about dramatic moments.

Sometimes it's simply about documenting everyday people enjoying a summer tradition.

At Toronto Ribfest, that tradition just happened to come packaged in a white foam container worth $34—and judging by the crowds, every penny seemed worth it.

 

The Hard Work of Rib Sauce Research

People think going to Toronto Ribfest is all about eating ribs.

They're only half right.

As a photographer, I wanted to capture the people behind the booths—the cooks, the staff handing out samples, and the incredible collection of trophies proudly displayed at every stand. But there was another assignment I simply couldn't ignore.

Research.

Someone had to find out which rib sauce was the best.

It was a tough job... but I was willing to make the sacrifice.

Every rib team had its own secret recipe. Some sauces were sweet with a hint of maple. Others packed a smoky flavour that lingered long after the sample was gone. Then there were the spicy sauces that started off friendly before reminding you they meant business.

I wandered from booth to booth, chatting with the staff, taking photographs, and accepting one tiny sample after another. Before long I realized something—the people serving the sauces were just as much a part of the Ribfest experience as the food itself. They smiled for my camera, joked with visitors, and encouraged everyone to try "just one more."

Looking around, I couldn't help but notice the rows of trophies behind every booth. These weren't just decorations. They represented years of competitions across North America and countless hours spent perfecting recipes. Every team believed they had the winning sauce, and after tasting so many of them, I could understand why.

Of course, no research project is complete without taking plenty of photos. I photographed the friendly sauce servers, the crowds lining up, the colourful signs listing award after award, and all the personalities that make Ribfest such a fun event.

Did I discover the best rib sauce?

That's impossible.

Every booth had something different to offer, and every sample made me want to try another. It turns out the best sauce is whichever one you're tasting at that moment.

So if anyone asks why I spent so much time sampling sauces at Toronto Ribfest, I'll simply tell them the truth.

It wasn't eating... it was research.

And sometimes, a photographer has to suffer for his art!

 

3 Tries for $5.00

One of the things I enjoy most about visiting the Toronto Ribfest isn't just the food—it's the people who make the midway come alive.

Walking past the rides and barbecue smoke, I found myself stopping at the game booths instead. A simple sign caught my eye:

"3 Tries for $5.00."

To most people, it's just another carnival game. To me, it was a chance to photograph the people behind the counter.

Every game operator had a different personality.

One young lady was explaining the basketball game with a smile, holding the ball while waiting for the next player. She had probably said the same instructions hundreds of times that day, yet every customer got the same cheerful welcome.

Another fellow working the fishing game gave me a thumbs-up as I walked by with my camera. He knew I wasn't there to win a stuffed animal—I was there to capture the atmosphere. Those little moments of interaction often become my favourite photographs.

Further down the midway, another operator called out through the microphone, encouraging everyone to give the game a try. His voice became part of the soundtrack of Ribfest, mixing with the music, laughter, and the smell of barbecue drifting through the air.

Then there was the operator standing in front of the "Knock Over Three Cups" game. Between customers, he patiently reset the cups and waited for the next challenger. It's easy to overlook the quiet moments between the excitement, but those are often the moments that tell the real story.

The colourful walls of oversized frogs, aliens, bears, chickens, and every stuffed animal imaginable created the perfect backdrop. The prizes weren't really the subject of my photos—the people running the games were.

Street photography isn't always about busy downtown intersections. Sometimes it's about documenting the people who help create an experience that thousands of visitors enjoy every summer.

For just 3 tries for $5.00, families were laughing, kids were testing their skills, and carnival workers kept the games moving all day long.

I never spent the five dollars.

Instead, I spent my time collecting something much more valuable—a series of photographs that captured the friendly faces, colourful booths, and the hardworking people who make Toronto Ribfest more than just a place to eat ribs.

Sometimes the best prize isn't hanging from the wall.

Sometimes it's the photo you take before you walk away.

 

The Real Stars of Toronto Ribfest Are Behind the Grill

 Every summer, Toronto Ribfest draws thousands of people looking for smoky ribs, pulled pork, brisket, and all the barbecue you can imagine. Most visitors line up for the food. I showed up with my Sony camera.

Instead of photographing plates of ribs, I found myself fascinated by the people making them.

Walking from smoker to smoker, every team had its own personality. Some pitmasters stood proudly behind mountains of ribs with smoke swirling around them. Others were busy brushing on sauce, flipping racks over open flames, or carving brisket while chatting with customers. They weren't just cooking—they were putting on a show.

One of my favorite photos was of a cook standing behind trays of chicken and ribs with flames dancing on the grill below. The layers in the photo tell the whole story: fresh food waiting to be served, fire creating the flavor, and the cook calmly watching over it all.

Another great moment came when a smiling pitmaster held up an enormous rack of ribs with a giant carving knife in his other hand. He noticed my camera and proudly posed for the shot. That's one of the things I enjoy about photographing people at events. Most are happy to share what they do when they see someone interested in their craft.

The smoke was another challenge—and an opportunity. Smoke can hide details, but it also adds atmosphere. As it drifted across the grills, it created dramatic light and gave the photos that unmistakable barbecue feeling. You can almost smell the wood smoke just by looking at the images.

I also enjoyed photographing the different barbecue teams. Every stand had its own style, colorful signs, stacks of ribs, and cooks working together like a well-practiced crew. Some looked straight into the camera while others were completely focused on the grill, creating natural candid moments.

Events like Ribfest remind me that street photography isn't only about sidewalks and busy intersections. It's about people doing what they love. Whether it's a musician, a street vendor, or a pitmaster tending a smoker, every person has a story worth photographing.

My advice is simple: don't stop at taking pictures of the food. Turn your camera toward the people who make it happen. Ask politely if you can take their picture. Most will smile, pose, or simply keep working, giving you authentic moments that tell a much richer story than a plate of ribs ever could.

By the end of the day, I had plenty of photographs—but the ones I'll remember most aren't of what I ate. They're of the hardworking cooks standing in front of blazing grills, surrounded by smoke, proudly serving up one rack of ribs at a time.

Sometimes the best thing at Ribfest isn't on the plate—it's the story happening behind the barbecue.

 

The Best Street Photographer Is the One Nobody Notices

I finally got my hair cut, and it reminded me of something that has nothing to do with hair and everything to do with street photography.

When I first started carrying a camera, I thought standing out would help. These days I've learned the opposite is true.

With a simple haircut, plain clothes, and my little Sony camera, I blend into the crowd. People don't give me a second look. They see another guy walking down the sidewalk instead of someone looking for photographs.

That's when the real street photography begins.

Street photography is about capturing life as it naturally unfolds. If people notice the photographer first, they often change how they act. A smile appears, a pose happens, or they quickly look away. The moment is gone.

By blending into the background, I become an observer instead of the center of attention.

Looking at this photo of myself after the haircut, I don't see someone trying to look like a photographer. I see an ordinary guy who could be anyone walking through Toronto with a small camera around his neck.

That's exactly the point.

I like using my Sony a6000 because it doesn't attract much attention. Combined with an everyday appearance, it lets me quietly move through busy streets, markets, festivals, and neighbourhoods while watching for those little moments that most people miss.

The best compliment a street photographer can receive isn't about their camera or their appearance.

It's that nobody remembered seeing them at all.

And sometimes, a fresh haircut is just another piece of the street photography toolkit. It helps me disappear into the crowd so the photographs can tell the story instead of the photographer.

 

Put the Viewfinder Away and Watch the Story Unfold

One of the best photography lessons I've learned is that sometimes the viewfinder gets in the way of seeing the whole story.

When I use my Sony camera with the rear screen flipped out, like the one in the photo above, I find myself looking beyond just the subject. Instead of having my eye pressed against the camera, I can see everything happening around the scene.

When you're using a viewfinder, your world becomes a small rectangle. You focus on the person, building, or object you're photographing. That's great for precision, but sometimes you miss the little details that make a photo interesting.

Using the rear screen changes that.

I can see people walking into the frame, notice interesting backgrounds, and watch how different elements interact with each other. A good photograph isn't always about a single subject. It's often about the relationship between subjects and the environment around them.

Street photography is where this really shines. I'll often hold the camera lower or off to the side and watch the screen. Suddenly I'm seeing layers in the image—people talking, someone crossing the street, a reflection in a window, or a cyclist entering the frame. Those extra details help tell a story.

Another advantage is that people tend to react differently. Looking through a viewfinder can make it obvious you're taking a photo. Looking at the rear screen feels more relaxed and less intrusive, allowing moments to unfold naturally.

The flip screen is also great for shooting from unusual angles. You can hold the camera low to the ground, over your head, or around obstacles while still composing the image. Those different viewpoints often make photographs more interesting.

I still use the viewfinder when I need it, especially in bright sunlight. But when I'm out wandering the streets looking for stories, I often switch to the rear screen and let the scene develop in front of me.

Photography isn't just about seeing the subject. It's about seeing the entire scene and understanding how all the pieces fit together.

Sometimes the best way to tell a better story is to take your eye away from the viewfinder and watch the whole world around your photograph.

 

I Own These Cameras and Wonder Why

I own both a Sony a6000 and a Sony a5000, and there is something I've always wondered about.

These cameras are small. Really small.

They're lightweight, easy to carry, and with the compact 16-50mm kit lens attached, they don't look much different from many point-and-shoot cameras. Yet when I look at the camera policies for concerts, sporting events, fairs, and attractions, I often see a rule that catches both of them.

No interchangeable lens cameras allowed.

That got me wondering—why?

The Sony a6000 and a5000 are not giant professional cameras. They fit easily into a small bag, and the a5000 is one of the smallest interchangeable-lens cameras ever made. But because the lens can be detached and swapped, many venues automatically classify them as professional equipment.

To photographers, interchangeable lenses are simply a creative tool. We change lenses to suit the subject, whether it's street photography, landscapes, or family snapshots. To security staff, however, a removable lens is often an easy way to define what is and isn't allowed.

I understand why the rule exists. Security staff need a simple guideline they can enforce quickly. They don't have time to evaluate every camera model that comes through the gate.

Still, I find it funny.

Someone can walk in carrying the latest smartphone with multiple cameras, advanced image processing, and incredible zoom capabilities. Yet my little Sony a5000 or a6000 may be stopped at the door simply because the lens twists off.

The cameras themselves aren't what most people would picture as professional gear. In fact, many people are surprised when I tell them the lens can be removed at all.

That's also one of the reasons I still like my old Sony RX100 so much. The RX100 has a fixed lens, so it doesn't fall into the interchangeable-lens category. It's compact, fits in a pocket, produces excellent image quality, and is usually accepted at places where my a6000 or a5000 might raise questions.

Over the years, the RX100 has become my "take anywhere" camera. When I'm heading to an event and I'm not sure about the camera policy, I know the RX100 will usually get through without any issues. It gives me the freedom to enjoy the day without worrying about whether security will stop me at the gate.

As a photographer, I've learned that the rule isn't really about the size of the camera or even the quality of the images. It's about that one feature—the interchangeable lens mount.

So whenever I'm heading to an event, I make sure to check the camera policy first. My Sony a6000 and a5000 may be compact and travel-friendly, but in the eyes of many venues, they're still professional cameras because the lenses can be changed.

And that's why my old RX100 continues to have a place in my camera bag. It may not have interchangeable lenses, but it goes places where my other cameras sometimes can't.

I own these cameras, enjoy using them all, and still find myself wondering why such small cameras can sometimes be treated the same as a photographer carrying a giant telephoto lens.

It's one of those mysteries of modern photography.

 

The Extraordinary Street Photo at Union Station

Every once in a while, a street photograph comes along that reminds me why I carry a camera everywhere. Not because of a famous landmark, dramatic sunset, or major event—but because ordinary life suddenly lines up in a way that tells a story.

This photo from Union Station in Toronto is one of those moments.

At first glance, it looks simple. A cyclist is stopped, checking directions on a phone while speaking with a woman carrying a camera. Behind them, travelers roll suitcases through the station. Nothing unusual.

But look a little longer.

One of the details that first caught my eye was the coincidence of color. The woman with the camera and the traveler walking through the frame are both wearing nearly identical blue shirts. They aren't together, and they are involved in completely different stories, yet that shared color creates an unexpected visual connection across the photograph. It's one of those little details that helps tie a scene together and rewards a second look.

The cyclist has arrived from one journey and is figuring out the next step. The photographer appears curious, engaged, and perhaps helping solve a problem. In the background, anonymous travelers move through the frame, each with their own destination and story. Then, entering from the right, a colorful character walks confidently into the scene, headphones on, carrying enough bags to suggest an adventure of his own.

Suddenly, the photograph becomes more than a picture of people.

It becomes a picture about movement.

Union Station is one of Canada's great crossroads. Every day thousands of people arrive, depart, meet, get lost, find their way, and continue their journeys. This photograph captures all of that in a single frame.

What makes it an extraordinary street photo is the layering. There are multiple stories happening at once. The cyclist and the woman create the foreground narrative. The travelers and luggage add context. The man in the blue Hawaiian-style shirt becomes a visual anchor, drawing the eye deeper into the scene. His blue shirt echoes the blue shirt of the woman in the foreground, creating a subtle visual rhythm that helps unify the image.

Street photography is often about recognizing the extraordinary hidden inside the ordinary. Nobody posed for this image. Nobody knew they were part of a composition. Yet the photograph feels balanced and alive.

The architecture of Union Station helps frame the scene perfectly. The dark pillars create a natural doorway that contains all the action, almost like a stage. The bright background separates the subjects and allows each person to stand out.

This is why I love wandering with a camera.

You can spend hours looking for the perfect photograph and find nothing. Then, in a split second, everyday life arranges itself into something special. A conversation, a bicycle, a camera, matching blue shirts worn by strangers, a suitcase, and a traveler passing through the station—and suddenly you have a photograph that captures the spirit of a place.

For me, this image represents Toronto at its best: diverse, busy, friendly, and full of unexpected connections.

That's what makes this not just a street photo, but an extraordinary one.

 

A Day at FABTECH Canada in Toronto

Today I traded country stores and old wagons for something completely different — FABTECH Canada in Toronto, where sparks fly, robots weld, and giant machines cut steel like it's cardboard.

The first thing that caught my eye was a beautiful metal soccer-ball ornament with a Canadian maple leaf cut right into the center. It was a perfect example of what modern fabrication equipment can create with incredible precision. If you can dream it, these machines can probably cut it from steel.

Then it was off into the maze of exhibits filled with flashing lights, humming machinery, and enough automation to make a science-fiction fan smile.

Robots That Weld Better Than Most Humans

One of the most impressive displays featured robotic welding systems. Robotic arms moved smoothly and confidently, laying down perfect welds while visitors watched from behind safety barriers.

I even watched a demonstration where attendees could try their hand at welding while wearing protective gear. It's amazing how technology is making skilled trades more efficient while still requiring talented people behind the scenes.

Lasers Everywhere

The laser-cutting machines were some of the biggest attractions.

Massive sheets of steel were being processed by machines that can cut intricate shapes with astonishing accuracy. Looking at the sharp corners and clean edges produced by these systems, it's easy to understand why manufacturers are investing heavily in laser technology.

One machine was displaying freshly cut steel parts right on the cutting bed, showing just how little material is wasted during the process.

Waterjet Technology

Another fascinating section featured waterjet cutting equipment.

These machines use incredibly high-pressure water, sometimes mixed with abrasives, to slice through metal and other materials. Watching the operators explain the process reminded me that sometimes the simplest idea—using water—can become one of the most advanced manufacturing tools.

Deburring and Finishing Machines

Not every machine at the show was about cutting. Some of the most interesting equipment focused on finishing metal parts after fabrication.

One machine continuously processed circular metal parts, smoothing edges and preparing them for final use. The attention to detail was impressive. In manufacturing, the finishing touches often make all the difference.

Automation Is Everywhere

Throughout the exhibition hall, automation was the common theme.

Collaborative robots, automated welding cells, laser systems, hydraulic presses, and material-handling equipment showed how modern factories are becoming smarter and more efficient.

It wasn't just about replacing people—it was about helping skilled workers do more, improve quality, and stay safer on the job.

The Trade Show Atmosphere

FABTECH had the energy of a major event. The aisles were busy with engineers, welders, shop owners, students, and technology enthusiasts. Everywhere you looked, there was another machine demonstration drawing a crowd.

The red carpeted aisles stretched through rows of exhibitors, each showing off the latest innovations in metal fabrication and manufacturing.

Bob's Final Thoughts

I've spent a lot of time photographing old buildings, historic wagons, and small-town treasures. Today was a reminder that history is still being made—just inside factories and machine shops instead of along Main Street.

FABTECH Toronto showcased the tools that build the future: robots, lasers, waterjets, presses, and automation systems that transform raw steel into everything from vehicles to buildings.

And yes, I came home with plenty of photos, a deeper appreciation for Canadian manufacturing, and a shiny little metal soccer-ball souvenir to remember the day.

 

Bob Visits the Country Western Store in Alliston

 

There are some places that are so different from downtown Toronto that you feel like you've travelled to another world. This weekend, I found one of those places when I stopped in at Herbert's Boots & Western Wear in Alliston, Ontario.

The store has been part of downtown Alliston since 1958 and is famous for its huge selection of western boots, hats, and clothing.

The moment I walked through the door, I knew this wasn't your average shoe store.

A Wall of Cowboy Boots

The first thing that caught my eye was the endless rows of cowboy boots.

Not ten pairs.

Not fifty pairs.

Hundreds.

Maybe thousands.

Every colour, every style, every shape of toe imaginable. Looking down one aisle felt like looking down a western boot highway. If you couldn't find a pair of boots here, you probably weren't looking hard enough.

As a photographer, I immediately saw patterns, textures, and colours everywhere. The rows of leather made for great photographs.

The Hat Department

Then I wandered over to the hats.

Again, the selection was unbelievable.

Cowboy hats stacked from floor to ceiling. White hats, black hats, straw hats, felt hats—enough hats to outfit an entire rodeo.

I briefly considered trying one on and seeing if I could pass as a ranch hand from Alberta.

The problem is that after years of carrying cameras around Toronto, I probably look more like a wandering street photographer than a cowboy.

The Hidden Workshop

My favourite part of the visit wasn't actually the boots.

It was the repair shop.

Tucked away behind the retail area were old industrial machines that looked like they belonged in a museum. Massive sewing machines, leather-working equipment, tools, polishes, and work benches filled with the signs of real craftsmanship.

In an age where people often throw things away, it was refreshing to see a place where boots are repaired and given a second life.

The machinery had character. You could almost imagine how many boots had passed through those machines over the decades.

As someone who still happily uses a 10-year-old Sony camera, I appreciate equipment that keeps working long after everyone thinks it should have been replaced.

A Photographer's Dream

Most people probably visit a western store to buy boots.

I visited to take pictures.

The rows of leather, the vintage machinery, the stacks of hats, and the small details around the workshop all told a story.

That's one of the things I enjoy about travelling around Ontario. You never know what you'll find. One day you're photographing skyscrapers on Bay Street. The next day you're standing in a western boot store in Alliston photographing machines that have probably been working longer than some photographers have been alive.

Final Thoughts

The visit reminded me why I enjoy exploring small-town Ontario.

Places like Alliston still have businesses with history, personality, and stories to tell. The boots, hats, and workshop weren't just merchandise—they were part of a tradition that has been serving customers for generations.

And let's be honest...

If there was ever a camera club category for "Most Cowboy Boots Photographed in One Afternoon," I think Bob would finally have another award-winning entry.