If I'm not boring everyone to death, I'll keep on posting some photo's. I'll spare us all the tedium of having to scroll thrugh the thread after overloading it with giant photos, so I invite you to view them here:
http://s640.photobucket.com/albums/uu121/wdwrx/JHaywood Chip removal/
Sorry for the mixed up order, but the captions and photo labeling show the chronological order. I'll try to get on that.
I've noticed a couple interesting things. The chip was quite easy to remove, all of about 10 minutes and 200 nice light ex-strokes. I started out with the DMT1200 and 20 laps on one side and took a photo in an attempt to document the fin that I've seen previously under similar circumstances, but I wasn't able to capture it as my improved jig currently only allows good exposures from one side. There was some evidence of it in the swarf after flipping the blade after returning it to the hone. The second two photos are of the first 20 laps, and then an additional 100 or so. The fourth shows the completed removal after about 200 laps.
The next three photos show an interesting occurence; exposure #5 shows the bevel after dilution (long tall steps through dillution as the stone seems quite fast) The bevel tip shows a nice even line at the tip, with very few deviations or flaws, the sixth exposure shows the same edge after about 80 x-strokes on water. It seems that the edge has deteriorated, and developed a series of fluctuations in the evenness of the bevel line. The final exposure shows the result after another light slurry and dilution using the lightest pressure I could.
Any thoughts on what appears to happen here? Things that have occured to me are that I'm doing too many strokes on water, and wearing the bevel past it's point of cohesivness (is that even possible?) or, more likely, is it issues I have with pressure, or could there be a different factor I haven't thought of?
Urmas, thanks for that link, I've made a few tentative steps towards creating an enhanced depth of field image. I need to learn a bit more finesse with the whole camera and 'scope set up but I'm working on it.
Paul, as far as too crispy, if I might ask your indulgence in a slight digression:
I love nothing more than a beautiful, clear, early winter morning. Say, 5:30 am, before the sun comes up, the sky shades from infinite black to a deep rich magenta and royal purple glow, warming through to glorious red-golds as your eye follows the stars to the point they fade out on the eastern horizon. When the snow crunches and squeals under your boots, and the air is so clear and cold it feels as as if it could shatter at any moment. Every breath becomes an exhilerating experience; an intrusion of cold and sensation deep into the center of your being. Your sinuses shrink and recoil from the cold, and the fog of your breath hangs for moments in the still, cold air, condensing again on your eyelashes and eyebrows in small, diamondine ice crystals. This, my friend, is my best attempt to describe a crisp morning, as I know 'em. And the colder it gets, the crispier it gets. At what point is it too cold? One might as well ask the same; at what point is it too crisp?
Kind regards,
-Chris