Zeiss
Jena Notarem 10x40B mc Review
My original review of Carl Zeiss Jena’s Notarem 10x40s was
one of my first, posted over a decade ago. It frankly wasn’t up to the thorough
standard I aim at these days.
Now I’ve done the decent thing and bought another pair for a
more in-depth test. Right now is a perfect time to
re-visit this pair of ‘classic’ binoculars too, because I seem to be having
something of a season reviewing bino’s in this style, what with Zeiss’ own 7x42
Dialyts and a pair of 1980s Leitz
Trinovids in the queue as well (not to mention the similar-looking Leica
Trinovid Classics).
Part of the reason for this is just that I like old and
quirky things. They have a mid-century look that’s come back into style, too. But
there’s a practical interest, because this style of binocular gives you the
size, weight and handling of a modern 10x32 with most of the light gathering
ability of a 10x42. The downside being, of course, a lack of full armour and
waterproofing.
Buying and using a classic like the Notarems also confers the
under-appreciated advantage of minimal depreciation.
I was impressed with both the Leica Retrovids
and the Zeiss Dialyts – both offer a genuine
alternative to modern cookie-cutter roofs. Are these Notarems as capable? Let’s
find out ...
The Notarems next to a pair of 2020 8x40 Leica Trinovids.
At A Glance
|
Magnification |
10x |
|
Objective Size |
40mm |
|
Eye Relief |
~12mm |
|
Actual Field of View |
105m/1000m, 6.1° |
|
Apparent field of view |
~60° |
|
Close focus |
~5m |
|
Transmissivity |
80%? |
|
Length |
152mm |
|
Weight |
620g claimed, 646g measured. |
Data from CZJ/Me.
Design and Build
The Notarems look funky and retro nowadays, with their long
slim barrels and leather cladding. But back in the mid-1980s, when these were
manufactured in East Germany, that’s mostly how roof-prism bino’s looked: for
example, Leitz’s Trinovids and Zeiss Oberkochen’s
(the separate West German company) Dialyts, but lots
of lesser-known models, like Swift’s Trilytes, too.
Back then, Zeiss Jena made a smaller 8x30 Notarem in the same
style and an armoured version that was the same binocular but with a ridged
rubber sheath squished over it.
At that time, the Zeiss Jena factory was making some 200,000
binoculars per year, with a variety of models including the traditional Jenoptem
porro-prism binoculars pictured below. To set the expectations for this review,
it’s perhaps worth noting the difference between those Jenoptems
and a pair of porros from that other Zeiss factory, at Oberkochen in W.
Germany (see below), one of the finest-built binoculars I’ve ever encountered.
For reference, a pair of fairly basic Zeiss Jena porros from
the same factory as the Notarems and a pair from Zeiss West at Oberkochen. The
latter have a real ‘Swiss watch’ feel.
Body
Holger Merlitz has an image of a Zeiss Jena catalogue from
the era of my Notarems on his website and it makes interesting reading. It
seems that these little bino’s have quite a complex design, but from the
outside they just look tiny and dainty for a 10x40. That is certainly a major
appeal of the Notarem. They make today’s
armoured roofs look bulky and heavy. Unsurprisingly, though, they are very
similar to a pair of traditional Leica Trinovids (or their re-issued ‘Retrovid’ equivalent).
At 620g the Notarems are the weight of a modern 8x32. No
modern 10x42 from a premium make weighs so little. Even Swarovski’s 10x40 Habichts or Leica’s 10x40 Trinovids weigh a bit more.
I really like the metal-and-leatherette finish, but as with
other classic roof designs – such as Leica/Leitz
Trinovids and Zeiss’ Dialyts - these are not fully
sealed and purged. However, the Zeiss Jena catalogue claimed “special sealing
against adverse dust and climatic conditions”, so they are not as vulnerable to
the odd rainy day as they look and again this is just like most other similar
binoculars.
Make no mistake that back in the day, before purged and
sealed birding bino’s were universal, folks managed fine with binoculars like
this, often (I’m told) just thoroughly drying them out after a wet day in the
field. Problems typically only arise when they’re stored away damp.
Focuser
The Notarem’s focuser is unusual:
both eyes are independently adjustable via the central knob, but just enough
resistance is built-in to ensure that you can focus them together once you’ve
set them relative to each other for your eyes. Two little arrows line up to
show they’re at neutral.
This seems a more intuitive system than the right-eye dioptre
adjustment that was all but universal in the 1980s and is still common today.
Internally, the focuser is even more unusual. Most binoculars
focus by moving the eyepieces or the objectives or a focusing lens between
objective and prism (the default adopted by most modern roofs). These use none
of the above. Instead, the field-lens part of the eyepieces moves with respect
to the rest of the eyepiece (which remains fixed). It does so by sliding in and
out of the eyepiece barrel in a finely fitted and greased (!) tube. The tube is
in turn moved by a simple lever mechanism actuated by a screw attached to the
focusing wheel.
Enough of the techy details, so how well does it work? The
focuser knob is small and fiddly compared to modern designs, but is reasonably
smooth and not too sloppy or vague.
It does suffer some play, so dioptre tends to wander a bit as
you focus. This can always be fixed by a bit of re-focusing which seems to settle
things. Alternatively, savvy repair shops can usually improve the mechanism
(something I had done to good effect with my original pair).
Close focus isn’t up to modern standards, though – at about
5m it’s too far for me to get an accurate measurement. You do get a feature
most don’t have – a red dot and infinity marking, like a camera lens. From
close focus to that infinity mark is about ¾ turn – fast, even today.
Optics - Prisms
The Notarems apparently employ a mixture of roof and penta prisms to keep the weight down. Like ordinary roofs, these do need mirror
coatings, which were reputedly silver, giving them their warm image tone
according to some sources.
Phase
coatings appeared in the late Eighties - a few years after these were made - so
these miss out, meaning that contrast and resolution will be a bit down on
modern designs. Lack of phase coatings seems more obvious at higher
magnifications (Leitz’s 7x35s don’t seem to suffer as
much from it).
The
prism mountings aren’t the most robust and a knock can send the Notarems out of
collimation. Once again, that’s a fault that can be fixed with some upgrades to
the prism straps, something offered by some repair shops as part of a service.
Optics - Objectives
The Notarems have achromatic doublet tele-objectives with a
large air gap and the crown at the front. The big gap between the elements
improves false colour correction (Zeiss’ high-end 20x60 image stabilised bino’s
have the same design), but it’s also a good choice for ruggedness: no cement to
deteriorate (so-called ‘balsam failure’) or narrow gap for water to become
trapped.
For stray-light protection, the space between the elements is
ridge-baffled and there is a large knife-edge baffle just in front of the
prisms.
The brochure
advertised ‘T3M’ multi-coatings, indicated by the ‘mc’ engraved below the left
eyepiece. The coatings have a dark purple / gold appearance: much more
transparent than the usual lilac single layer of magnesium fluoride. Transmissivity
is not up to the best modern standards, but is actually quite good on this
pair.
Optics - Eyepieces
The eyepieces are 6-element, wide-field Erfles.
Considering that most binoculars of the era had basic Kellner eyepieces, that’s
quite sophisticated, but as I’ve said it also allows them to use an
unconventional focusing mechanism. Those complex eyepieces give a true field of
6.1° (about 60° apparent): quite wide for a 10x
bino’.
Eye relief is supposedly sufficient to warrant rubber folding
eye cups and is the meaning of the ‘B’ in the bino’s designation. This doesn’t
mean properly modern eye relief, though – I measured about 12mm from the rim of
the folded eye cup. That’s enough eye relief to be usable with glasses, but not
enough to see anything like the whole field.
Accessories
Like most quality binoculars of the era, the Notarems came
with a lovely tan leather hard case lined with plum velvet and a (maybe not so
lovely for all-day carry) thin leather strap. The neoprene Zeiss strap shown
above is modern, fits fine and is far more practical.
Originally, both individual objective caps and an eyepiece
cap were supplied.
In Use – Daytime
My first
pair were faulty and I sent them off for a service at one of the UK’s most
respected optical repair companies. Three weeks and ninety quid later, back
they came much improved. The invoice said they had been cleaned, collimated,
had the prism mounts strengthened and the focusing repaired. Thereafter they
worked well.
This more
recent pair didn’t require any intervention, but collimation and focusing,
whilst serviceable, were not as good as the repaired pair. Clearly, those prism
and focuser upgrades are worthwhile if you intend to use the Notarems
regularly.
Ergonomics and Handling
If you’re used to modern roofs with thick armour, these
Notarems feel remarkably small and slim. With big bear paws that might be a
problem, but it’s a comfortable hold for me – fingers curled around the
barrels.
So the long-barrelled design makes them
generally easy to hold and the focuser comes nicely to hand. But they do suffer
an odd ergonomic fault. The strap attaches to lugs built into the body on the
underside behind the eyepieces and so interfere with my nose when viewing. To
avoid this, I have to curl my thumbs around the strap ends to fold them out of
the way. A modern neoprene strap works better.
These Notarems are the “B” model, which implies more eye
relief and fold-down eyecups to accommodate it. They do indeed have more eye
relief than traditional 10x bino’s (like the Jenoptems)
and are quite usable with glasses, but that way I lose a substantial part of
the fairly wide field. In fact, the most comfortable option for me turns out to
be with the cups folded down but without my specs on.
Focusing has a nice snap to it and is smooth and quite fast,
but there is only just enough travel beyond infinity to accommodate my eyes
uncorrected; Mr Magoo would need his glasses to use
these. As I mentioned, dioptre can wander a bit as you focus in and out, but
this typically improves with use and a bit of re-focusing usually snaps it back
in.
The View
For users without glasses, the view is pleasingly wide.
Brightness seems quite good. Sharpness is good too and you don’t immediately
notice the lack of phase coatings. So, the view generally seems quite bright,
sharp and detailed.
However, careful comparisons with more modern designs reveals
that indeed these do lack a bit of resolution thanks to the absence of phase
coatings. They’re a bit dimmer too, even than a pair of 1990s Zeiss Dialyts - significantly dimmer than a pair of modern 10x42 Zeiss
Conquest HDs.
Perhaps the most obvious issue to modern eyes is one typical
of older Zeiss binoculars – a definite yellowish tint that is really obvious if
you swap between these and a modern binocular. I don’t know if this was simply
the glass of the time, the coatings, or a deliberate distortion to allow better
performance in misty conditions (some binoculars of the era were supplied with
yellow filters). You do get used to it, though.
Flat field?
The fairly wide field isn’t flat, but distortions only creep
in at about 80% of the width. But thereafter, those distortions are quite
severe by modern standards (see below).
Chromatic Aberration
Chromatic
aberration is well controlled for a pre-HD roof, thank those tele-objectives
with their huge air-gap and the lack of a dedicated focusing lens (often a
source of false colour in modern roofs).
Stray Light and Ghosting
Viewing
a bright but distant security light produced one small bright ghost and four
long dim prism spikes – not too bad and better than I expected.
Aberrations
in the last ~10% are quite severe by modern standards, but otherwise it’s a
well-corrected field.
In Use – Dusk
Brightness during daytime seems quite good, but these are dimmer
in deep dusk than a 10x40 with modern coatings. This is noticeable as a loss of
detail and contrast compared to the modern optic under the same conditions.
Still, I could make out lots of detail in the copse opposite in strong
Moonlight.
Viewing under a brilliant dusk sky caused some mild veiling
flare from the bottom of the objectives only.
In Use – Observing the Night Sky
On the night sky the Notarem 10x40s work surprisingly well,
one of the better older designs I have tested.
The field is nice and wide and flat until the last 10%; stars
are pinpoint and bright with good colour. They don’t go as deep as a modern
premium 10x42 would, but they are basically fine for casual astronomy.
The Moon
The Notarems give an excellent view of a bright gibbous Moon
– sharp and detailed, albeit not to the level of a pair of modern super-premium
10x42 SFs I’m testing at the same time. Compared to the modern bino’, the
Notarems’ Moon is a little warmer toned too.
Mars
The only
bright planet around was just a bright star, with no flare ghosts or prism
spikes on view.
Deep Sky
10x40 bino’s with modern coatings (like Swarovski’s Habichts or Leica’s Trinovid Classics) can work well for
deep sky and these old Notarems aren’t as dim and useless as you might expect.
The brighter DSOs of late winter looked good. The Orion
nebula looked much as it does through any 10x birding binoculars. I easily
found the clusters in Auriga and resolved the arcs of stars that comprise the
Pinwheel and Starfish (M36 and M38). The Pleiades looked less brilliantly
sparkly than a pair of premium 10x42s, but the whole cluster easily fitted
without distorted stars.
Fainter DSOs are not ideal targets for older binoculars with
lower transmission. I found globular cluster M3 easily enough, but it was a bit
dim and indistinct for this aperture. I might have glimpsed M1 (the Crab
Nebula) in Taurus, but wouldn’t swear to it with my hand on the Good Book.
Summary
In 1985, when I was just finishing my student days, when a
superbike boasted 100 horsepower and a home computer had 16K of memory, the
Notarems must have had state-of-the-art performance. The world has changed a
lot since then.
The Notarems are still a nice binocular, especially my
original pair (following the attentions of the repairer to fix the wandering
dioptre and slightly suspect collimation that most suffer as standard).
They are very small and light, even today. By comparison, a
modern Zeiss 10x42 of whatever type will be much bigger and heavier.
The view is decently wide and bright by modern standards and
the focuser, once repaired and strengthened, works fine. Sharpness is well down
on the best phase-coated roofs, but probably not much worse than cheap ones;
ditto twilight performance. Optical quality appears pretty good, better than
cheap binoculars today.
So should you buy a pair? Well, the Notarems’
design weaknesses can be readily fixed for the price of a thorough service.
Given their typical price used, you might thus pay £200-300 for a fully fixed
pair in near-mint condition. That’s similar to a pair of new Nikon
10x42 Monarchs, for example. Those Nikons will outperform the Notarems, but be
worth much less when it comes time to sell.
So, if you just like the Notarems’ classic style, with its
nostalgic roots in the 1960s, they make a cheap alternative to Habichts, Trinovids or Dialyts –
tuck a pair in the breast pocket of your moleskin jacket and let’s go watch a
steam train.
The Zeiss Notarems are
cautiously recommended as a classic, but factor in ~£100 for repairs to make
them fully usable.
