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An interesting Tailscale + Docker gotcha

2026-01-29T00:00:00Z

As I’ve written about before, I use Tailscale for a lot of things. I thought I had it set up in a reasonably secure manner, but I recently noticed a problem.

I use Tailscale’s ACLs to limit what each node can access, based on the tags I apply to it. So an app node can’t access anything via Tailscale, while an integration or server node can access things tagged with either app or integration. This is expressed pretty simply in the Tailscale ACL JSON:

{
	"tagOwners": {
		// Servers that can be SSH'd into
		"tag:server": [],
		// Applications that are exposed on tailscale but never connect out
		"tag:app": [],
		// Things which talk to other services over tailscale (connecting to apps etc)
		"tag:integration": [],
	},
	"grants": [
		{
			// Users can access everything
			"src": ["autogroup:member"],
			"dst": ["*"],
			"ip":  ["*"],
		},
		{
			// Servers and integrations can access integrations and apps
			"src": ["tag:server", "tag:integration"],
			"dst": ["tag:integration", "tag:app"],
			"ip":  ["*"],
		},
	],
}

Over the past week I’ve been setting up a private Forgejo instance behind Tailscale, complete with an actions runner that runs things using a docker-in-docker container. I didn’t want the runner knowing anything about Tailscale, so I had it configured to speak to Forgejo direct over HTTP (forgejo:3000) instead of using full Tailscale HTTPS URL that I use when accessing it (http://git.example-net.ts.net/)¹.

Everything was going fine, until I forgot to do that translation… and it worked. My Forgejo action runners could access anything on my tailnet. I run several things on Tailscale that just have authentication turned off, on the basis that only authorised devices can access them. Things like the admin interface for this website. I definitely didn’t intend for any workflow I run on my git server to have access to edit my website!

This wasn’t just limited to Forgejo, either. Any docker container I was running could access the tailnet. In hindsight it’s fairly obvious why: the host is running Tailscale, connected as a node tagged with my server tag. That creates a tailscale0 interface, and automagically sets up iptables rules to route Tailscale traffic over the interface. Docker also automagically sets up iptables rules to bridge traffic, and apparently these two sets of rules interact in such a way that traffic from Docker containers is allowed to route via the tailscale0 interface.

I say it’s fairly obvious in hindsight — there’s no reason why Docker would special case any particular host interface after all — but it still feels pretty surprising. Because both bits of software inject their own iptables rules, I never really had a good mental model for how they interact. The host Tailscale node was a completely separate building block to Docker. It would be a pain to use either of them if they didn’t do these rules, but it’s also one of the reasons I don’t really like “magical” things².

There are lots of ways to fix this, but none of them feel particularly great. You can configure both Tailscale and Docker to not automatically fiddle with iptables and handle the rules yourself, but I really hate dealing with iptables³. As a stopgap I did hold my nose and add some iptables rules to drop traffic to the tailscale0 interface if it originated from the IP ranges that Docker was configured to use:

iptables -I DOCKER-USER -s 192.168.0.0/16 -o tailscale0 -j DROP
iptables -I DOCKER-USER -s 172.17.0.0/12 -o tailscale0 -j DROP

The DOCKER-USER chain is a nice little escape hatch; it comes before the main auto-generated DOCKER chain, and Docker leaves the rules in it alone.

So I added these rules, and felt pretty good about myself, and then… everything started breaking in weird ways. After some debugging I realised the problem was DNS⁴. The server’s DNS resolver is 100.100.100.100, a special Tailscale address. This is so that it can resolve tailnet hostnames via MagicDNS (and so I don’t have to configure my custom DNS servers manually on each device; Tailscale does it for me). My new iptables rules inadvertently dropped all the DNS packets coming from docker containers. D’oh.

Obviously the solution here is to double down and add MORE iptables rules:

iptables -I DOCKER-USER -s 192.168.0.0/16 -d 100.100.100.100 -o tailscale0 -j ACCEPT
iptables -I DOCKER-USER -s 172.17.0.0/12 -d 100.100.100.100 -o tailscale0 -j ACCEPT

This got DNS working again, but it all feels a bit gross. Not least because to actually make these persist you need to use iptables-save, and then you also get all the rules that both Docker and Tailscale have inserted. I came across a script to filter out the Docker ones, but… yuck⁵.

I realised a cleaner idea might just be to lock down what server tagged nodes could access within Tailscale itself. That way I can avoid touching iptables at all. It’s handy to be able to curl services from the host when debugging, but it’s not really necessary. So I removed that access, and… stuff broke again. I’m using my Forgejo instance as a registry for some of the docker images I run, so the docker daemon needs to be able to reach it. I ended up making a new tag for infrastructure, which can be accessed from server devices. This does still allow all the docker containers to reach Forgejo, but I already have it set up with appropriate access controls and public/private repository splits. Forgejo is a service designed to run publicly, so this seems a reasonable trade-off for convenience. I used the tests feature of Tailscale’s ACL config to make sure I’d got the rules right:

{
	"tests": [
		{
			// Servers can only access infrastructure
			"src":   "tag:server",
			"proto": "tcp",
			"allow": [
				"tag:infrastructure:8080",
			],
			"deny": [
				"100.84.16.43:8080",
				"me@example.com:8080",
				"tag:server:8080",
				"tag:app:8080",
				"tag:integration:8080",
			],
		},
	],
}

The whole situation still feels a bit messy. If I ever get around to switching to nftables I might loop back and manually craft some rules for routing traffic, instead of leaving Tailscale and Docker to do their own thing.

I discovered later on that logging into the container registry at forgejo:3000 actually issued a redirect to https://git.example-net.ts.net/ so this was all basically for naught… ↩︎
I didn’t use Tailscale’s MagicDNS for a long time just because the word “magic” put me off. Only when I eventually got around to learning how it worked, and seeing that it wasn’t really that magical under the hood, did I change my mind. ↩︎
nftables seems far better in lots of ways, but I can’t really be bothered migrating. Maybe next time I reimage the server for whatever reason… ↩︎
It’s always DNS… ↩︎
Again, nftables would almost certainly help here. It actually has (gasp) configuration files. But again, I really didn’t want to spend the time migrating. ↩︎

10 Weeks with an Apple Watch 10

2025-09-09T00:00:00Z

My watch. Yes, I am available for wrist modelling opportunities.

Around ten weeks ago¹ I picked up an Apple Watch 10, and have been wearing it almost constantly since. It’s not my first Apple Watch — I had a Series 5 for a bit back in 2020 — but it’s the first time I’ve actually stuck with it. Ten weeks seems like an apt time to reflect on it.

Firstly, why did I even bother? Well, for a couple of years I’d been wearing a Xiaomi Smart Band 7, mainly to monitor my sleep stats and set alarms that won’t wake up everyone else nearby. Its battery life was fantastic — with notifications and other things turned off, I got about a month of use between charges — but actually using it felt like trying to order food via the medium of interpretive dance.

My biggest gripe was the screen lock. If I didn’t have the screen locked then I’d periodically trigger it during the night when I moved around and it came in contact with my chest or leg. With the lock enabled you had to deliberately swipe up from bottom to top to enable interaction, but it didn’t work reliably. When I wanted to adjust an alarm, I’d be stood swiping repeatedly trying to get it to respond. When you finally get it unlocked, the whole interface is just fiddly.

The other issue was the data quality. There were some nights when I’d been woken up, sometimes even getting up and moving around, and it just didn’t show it in the data. If it can’t even get whether I’m asleep right, can I trust anything else it says?

I spent a while researching the best devices for sleep tracking. The Oura ring came highly recommended, but it was expensive and required a subscription to do anything useful. No thanks! The Apple Watch was consistently rated pretty well, and I reasoned I could pick up a refurbished older unit. I’ve been using an iPhone as my daily driver for a while, so it’d fit right into my begrudged walled garden.

The Series 10 has a significant advantage, though: it charges much quicker than all the previous generations. On a 30-minute charge, the Series 10 can go from 0 to 60%; the 9 can only make it to 40%, and my old 5 a measly 30%. Shorter charge times means I’m far less likely to leave it on charge and wander off without it. In some ways the daily charging is more convenient than monthly: the wireless charger sits on my desk, and I plop the watch on it for a little while in the evening; I don’t need to dig out the weird pogo-pin connector that has vanished sometime in the last four weeks, then carefully arrange it so it stays attached.

How a watch maybe saved my life

One of the big features of the Apple Watch, like many other wearable devices, is health and fitness tracking. I didn’t think much about this, beyond the sleep data I wanted, at first. I’ve never had a particularly good relationship with exercise², but I do like some good statistics. I started going for walks more often to get more data and see the graphs of VO2 max and HR recovery gradually inch up. That wasn’t the most profound effect on my health, though…

The recent versions of the Apple Watch have a feature that monitors for sleep apnea, a disorder where you don’t breathe properly during your sleep. I knew I wasn’t sleeping great — that’s why I was paying attention to sleep tracking data — but was still a bit surprised to get a notification from Apple Health after wearing the watch for 30 days. It gives you a graph to print and take to your doctor. So I diligently booked an appointment and a few weeks later went to see my GP.

The appointment went about as you’d expect: talking about referral to a sleep centre for a study, and so on. Towards the end, the doctor took my blood pressure (sleep apnea can be caused by, and can cause high blood pressure, in a lovely little vicious cycle). I don’t think either of us expected anything; it was just one of those standard checks for a related problem. After taking the reading, the doctor looked at me and said, “I can’t let you leave with a BP like this”. Yikes!

Blood pressure readings are split into stages: normal is under 120 mmHg³ over 80 mmHg⁴, stage 1 is up to 140/90, stage 2 is up to 180/120, and above is simply called “crisis”. Guess where I was? Also, fun fact: depending on how exactly you count and attribute things, hypertension comes out as the single largest cause of death in humans. It doesn’t kill you outright, but contributes to strokes, coronary artery disease, heart failure, and lots of other lovely things you don’t want on your CV.

After doing a few more readings, it settled down to just under the “crisis” stage and into the “holy crap, start treatment immediately” stage instead. I won’t labour on much more about this, but things are definitely moving in the right direction now⁵.

While the Apple Watch didn’t literally save my life, it triggered the chain of events that led to this diagnosis and treatment. Who knows what would have happened had it remained undetected? Probably nothing good. Also, go check your blood pressure! It’s simple to do and simple to treat if there is an issue, but so many people are walking around with hypertension and not even realising.

Building gates in the walled garden

Even though the watch is arguably a life-saver, not everything is rosy. It’s an Apple product, so you’re firmly locked in a walled garden, jealously guarded by people wearing black turtlenecks. Fortunately, there are a few ways to make it less painful.

All the health and fitness data is stored in Apple Health. You can export data as a big messy file, but it’s a very manual process to do so and the data format is gnarly. Luckily, there’s an app for that! Health Auto Export can, well, automatically export health data. It does what it says on the tin. It can send the data to Home Assistant, over MQTT, or dump it in some cloud file services, but I just have it post it all to a REST endpoint on a service I wrote. Then I dump it all in a database and can do whatever I want with it!⁶

Another tool that’s more useful on the watch itself is Apple Shortcuts. This is their no-code “if-this-then-that”-type thing. You can make automations or shortcuts that run a number of tasks. I have a whole slew of them I access via a complication⁷ on my watch face: one which prompts for input and adds an item to my to-do list (swiping to write letters is surprisingly not horrible), one which lets me select from a bunch of pre-written ones (“charge kindle”, “take laundry out in 1 hour”, type things), one to log my weight into Apple Health, one which can open and close the blinds in my room, and so on. It’s a surprisingly robust and easy-to-use system and offers just enough freedom that I’m not constantly grating on the edge of the walled garden.

Shortcuts being able to initiate arbitrary web requests is the real killer feature for me. Anything I can’t do on the watch itself, I can just farm off to a web server and connect it up with a shortcut. No need to learn Swift or pay Apple for the privilege of being a developer! For a lot of things, like controlling the blinds or adding to-do items, I already had a HTTP endpoint available and exposed over Tailscale⁸. Adding it to the watch was just a case of entering the right things in the Shortcuts app.

Daily nitty-gritty

There are lots of other little bits and pieces that come up when using the watch daily. I don’t think I can bundle them up into a pleasing narrative arc, so instead please enjoy some disjointed paragraphs of observations.

The Apple Watch has a lot of nagging abilities. It can notify you about your fitness “rings”, prompt you to stand up every hour, count how many seconds you wash your hands for, etc. I think I’d dislike these just on general principle, but the way it does them is so condescending it’s painful. I think there’s probably a cultural divide issue here, but there is no way in British English to say “Great job! You washed your hands for 30 seconds!” without it sounding like you’re being amazingly sarcastic or like you’re talking to a young child. So I turned all of that nonsense off. It’s meant to be a tool not a wannabe life coach.

You can access Maps directly on the watch and even do navigation. It works really well. The navigation mode has some nice haptic feedback: it does a short pulse as you’re approaching a turn, and then a long pulse at the actual turn. I like it a lot more than having to dig out my phone or have the directions read out. You get one pulse, glance down and see where you need to go, then it reminds you a little later when it’s time to do it. It’s a delightful user experience.

Watchfaces aren’t quite so delightful. There’s a limited number of built-in ones, and some are “exclusive” to the Ultra Series, and you can’t use them on a peasant watch like a Series 10. Annoyingly, there’s not one that does exactly what I want: a plain analogue clock with an inset date and four complication slots around the outside. Instead, I have to use one of the slots to show the date. There are third-party watchfaces, but they have issues. Firstly, there’s no actual API for making watchfaces⁹, so what they do is bodge it horribly by using a photo background that has fake widgets on it. On top of that they’re almost universally subscription-based. Again, no thanks¹⁰.

The issue I had with the Smart Band triggering when I was sleeping is solved trivially on an Apple Watch, by virtue of it having a physical button in the crown. When you put it in sleep mode, you have to double-press the crown to unlock it before it’ll do anything else. It hasn’t misfired once while I’ve been using it.

Sleep data; spot when I swapped devices!

Finally, a special mention for the gesture controls. If you raise the watch it reliably wakes up (switching from a low refresh rate, dimmed screen to an active, brighter one); you can then double-tap your index finger and thumb together and it will scroll down or page through whatever you’re looking at. The killer feature for this is navigating recipes: you can advance to the next step in a recipe while your hands are covered in flour. It’s also handy for reading notifications: when one pops up, you can double-tap to expand it, then, when it gets to the bottom, it’ll outline the default button (often “Dismiss”) and you can double-tap again to click it.

The verdict

I normally don’t like writing an actual labelled conclusion, but it feels like one is needed here! Overall, I’m happy with the watch. The daily charging doesn’t bother me, the data gathered seems reliable, the health monitoring has obviously paid dividends already, and the walled garden isn’t too chafing. It’s a straight upgrade over my old Smart Band, and I think it was worth the cost.

The original reason for getting the watch was better sleep tracking, though, so how well did it do? I’m much happier with the data: it seems to more accurately represent when I was awake in the night, and overall the sleep phases just seem to make more sense. You can see in the graph that the old data switched frequently between phases, and they didn’t quite line up for some reason; towards the right when the Apple Watch is supplying the data instead there’s a much more consistent pattern of sleep phases that repeat over the course of the night.

I’m not going to advocate that you go out and buy one, though. I know my requirements and usage aren’t typical, and I’ve also not got experience with any recent Android Wear alternatives or the new version of the Pebble watch that’s coming soon. You should definitely get your blood pressure checked, though!

OK, it’s more like 14 now, it’s taken a while for this post to make its way from my brain into text. ↩︎
Exercise for the sake of exercising just seems so overwhelmingly tedious and boring to me. And other types of exercise generally require social interaction, coordinating with people, and so on. ↩︎
Who decided to use “millimetres of mercury displaced” as a unit? You can’t just put random chemical symbols in units! That’s not how this works! ↩︎
Blood pressure readings have two parts: systolic (the pressure when the heart is beating) and diastolic (the pressure between those beats). They’re generally presented with the systolic reading on top and the diastolic reading below, and read as “X over Y”. Now you know what some of the random numbers they shout in medical shows mean! Yay learning! ↩︎
No thanks to how much salt is in everything. I’m pretty sure I’ve had at least twice the recommended daily amount of salt in a single serving before. Don’t even get me started on the things that are “low salt” but are still full of sodium from other sources. I don’t have a problem with ionic compounds, I have a problem with sodium! ↩︎
This mainly looks like drawing graphs that are slightly different to the graphs in the Apple Health graphs, for reasons I’m not sure I can explain. Making graphs is fun, OK? ↩︎
Complications are basically just home screen widgets, but with a fancy name because they’re on a watch. ↩︎
Tailscale actually causes me some problems here: everything works fine when the watch is connected to my phone, as the phone handles the Tailscale part, but if I’m not carrying my phone the watch will try to connect over WiFi directly and doesn’t understand anything about Tailscale. It happens infrequently enough that I’ll just live with it; it’s not much worse than having no signal on a phone. ↩︎
Yay walled gardens… ↩︎
I don’t object to subscribing to things in general, but it has to be something that’s worth the ongoing cost and offers something in return for the subscription. A watchface doesn’t need enough ongoing maintenance to justify subscribing to it, it’s just a cash grab. ↩︎

Home Automation Without the Megacorps

2025-05-21T00:00:00Z

I first experimented with home automation in 2016, by picking up a Samsung “SmartThings” hub. It was terrible. The UI to configure things was slow and clunky, firmware updates were applied whether you wanted them or not, and everything stopped working if their cloud services stopped. You were also locked into whatever integrations they deigned to support, of course. After that broke for the umpteenth time I scaled back and for years the closest I got to home automation was a couple of Hue bulbs.

Recently I’ve been building it out again, though. This time using off-the-shelf components that interop using Zigbee, open-source software, and some code I wrote myself. It’s great; it runs entirely locally and has had basically zero downtime. The Zigbee ecosystem lets me integrate all sorts of things without having to spend lots of money on “smart” alternatives. I think I’ve spent less on this incarnation than I did on the original SmartThings hub all those years ago (even without adjusting for inflation!).

My current setup

I run everything on a Raspberry Pi 4, with a Sonoff USB Zigbee adapter based on the CC2652P chipset¹. Interfacing with the Zigbee stack is handled by zigbee2mqtt (z2m for short), an open-source project that basically bridges your devices to an MQTT broker². When a device reports some data, it will send a new message over MQTT; when you want to make a device do something you just post a message back. It’s incredibly lightweight, but supports a huge array of devices out of the box. And as it’s just using MQTT, it’s trivial to integrate with other software or build on top of.

I know a lot of people building out this kind of home automation use Home Assistant, but I don’t get on with it terribly well. It felt incredibly sluggish, and the entire project is just a bit… much. I want a binary or package or docker image I can just run, not an entire operating system. That’s not how computers are meant to work! In contrast, z2m is simple to set up, super light weight and responsive.

Anyway. z2m exposes Zigbee devices over MQTT, so I wrote some code in Go to connect to the MQTT broker, and listen to the messages. It’s grown a bit beyond this now, and I’m skipping some boring bits like error handling and JSON parsing, but at first I had something like:

for {
    message, topic, err := c.ReadSlices()
    
    if string(topic) == "zigbee2mqtt/desk-button" {
        if strings.Contains(message, "single") {
            c.Publish(nil, []byte("{\"state\": \"TOGGLE\"}"), "zigbee2mqtt/room-lights/set")
        }
    }
}

I think I actually made this harder to read by trying to simplify it here, but hopefully you can follow that it was relatively straight forward to listen for a particular action to happen (in this case me “single”-pressing on the device called “desk-button”) and then make another device do something in response (toggling the state of the “room-lights” device).

So what actually are these devices? At present in z2m I have the following:

Some generic buttons
An air quality sensor (USB powered), and a separate temperature sensor (battery powered)
A light switch
Some 240V relay modules, that I use to turn non-smart devices on and off
Some USB relay modules, for the same purpose
Some “smart” plugs that I mostly use to monitor power usage
A motorised blind roller

I think all of these are either Tuya or Moes branded, and were all sourced from AliExpress. You can get the same things from Amazon or elsewhere, but they tend to be 3-4x more expensive for the same product.

One of the cool things about Zigbee devices is that the powered ones work together to create a mesh network, so you don’t have to worry about network repeaters or signal strength like you do with Wi-Fi networks. z2m even makes a map showing the connections:

The network map produced by z2m. You can see how all the powered devices form a mesh that the lower power ones can connect to.

Some interesting automations

A Zigbee relay spliced into the power cable for the fan

So what do I actually do with all of this? Some of it is just what I’ll call “laziness automation”: I want to be able to turn on the lights without getting up and walking to the light switch. So there’s a Zigbee button on my desk that does it. Then there are some less manual automations: my blinds are automatically closed at sunset³, for example. It feels a bit trivial, but it’s surprisingly nice just not to have to think about that at all.

Another nice quality of life automation is the light I have above my monitor. It’s USB powered, and I now have it going through a Zigbee USB relay that lets it be toggled on and off. Then I have a small agent running on my desktop that turns the light on when the computer is unlocked, and off when it locks or shuts down. I keep meaning to make a “film mode” that detects when I’m watching a film, and turning all the lights and blinds down, but I haven’t got around to it yet.

The most complex automation is probably for a window fan. It’s not smart in any way, so I cut the power cable and inserted a Zigbee relay. The whole thing is housed in a little project box to keep it secure. The relay basically acts as a switch: the live wire leading to the fan runs to the “normally open”⁴ contact, while the upstream power goes to “common”. When the relay is told to turn the fan on, the two get connected and the fan gets power. Oh, it’s also not actually a window fan, but I designed and 3D printed some adapters so that it sits right in the window.

So now we have a window fan that can be turned off and on automatically. But I don’t want to have to press a button to do that. I’m lazy, remember? Instead, I made it so that the Go code constantly monitors the temperature reported by the air quality sensor, and queries the free OpenWeatherMap API to get the rough temperature outside. It can then turn the fan on if the room is too hot, and outside is cool enough to make a difference (there’s no point in blowing hotter air in!).

A graph of room temperature, showing the effect of the fan being turned on and off

I don’t want it to do that all the time though. The room doesn’t need to be cooled if I’m not around. There are various Zigbee presence sensors you can get, but the cheaper ones seem to be of dubious quality. Instead, I wrote some code to guess whether I’m present. It uses the state of the monitor light as a proxy for “is the computer in use”, and then makes some guesses based on the last time the computer was used and the current time (if I turn the computer off at midnight it probably means I’m going to sleep; if I turn it off at 2pm it probably means I’m going out somewhere).

You can see in the graph that the fan has a decent impact on temperature. I coded it to cool the room to 19 degrees, but then not turn on again until it was above 20. This prevents it flip-flopping on and off constantly. You can clearly see the pattern in the graph, as it actively cools and then slowly the room warms back up. This arrangement is much better than being woken up at 5am because it’s painfully cold. Trust me.

Bonuses: metrics and 3D printer

One of the things my custom Go code does is collate all the various stats reported by the Zigbee devices, and inserts them into a VictoriaMetrics database. I originally hosted this on the Pi itself, and it performed fine, but I’ve since moved it onto a server so that I can use it for some other things as well.

I set up Grafana to point to VM, and can create dashboards showing power usage, what devices are turned on when, and a bunch of environmental conditions. This also makes it easy to spot how good the data coming from the devices are. For example, the air quality sensor reports a figure for the amount of Carbon Dioxide in the air, as well as the amount of Volatile Organic Compounds (VOCs). The graphs are basically identical, but on a different scale. It turns out this particular device has no actual way of detecting CO₂, so it just “calculates” it from the VOCs figure. Useful to know if you want to actually use that data.

Recently I came across a go library for interacting with Bambu Lab printers, so I’ve also hooked that into my automation. It exports metrics about the printer, so I now have a way of seeing what’s going on when I’m not physically present⁵. I even added a HTTP endpoint (exposed over Tailscale) that shows pictures from the built-in camera.

On the automation front, I’ve made it automatically turn off the printer’s light when it finishes a print, and also added push notifications via PushOver whenever the state changes. No longer will I be sat in another room blissfully unaware it ran out of filament seconds after I walked out the door!

Was it worth it?

These days you could probably just buy some kind of ‘smart home’ hub that works well enough, and do most of what I’ve done with a lot less effort and no coding. I’m still of the opinion that for something so essentially local, it should itself be managed entirely locally. I don’t trust companies like Google or Amazon not to kill their products, or change or remove an API I rely on.

Obviously the “Not Invented Here” approach of coding everything yourself doesn’t suit everyone, but as someone who enjoys coding and enjoys having things work just so it works very well for me.

It turns out the chipset is important. I initially used a similar Sonoff dongle that used a CC2531 chipset, and its performance wasn’t great. It often failed to pair with new devices, and dropped links to existing ones. The zigbee2mqtt docs do explicitly advise against the CC2531 chips for that reason. At the time they recommended CC2652Ps, so that’s what I went with. If you’re starting new I’d go with whatever their latest recommendation was. ↩︎
MQTT is basically a network protocol for publishing and subscribing to arbitrary messages. A broker is the thing that sits in the middle and routes the messages. I use Mosquitto but any will do. ↩︎
They originally also re-opened at sunrise but that was a terrible mistake. Who knew the sun rose so early?! ↩︎
“open” meaning “there’s a gap so it doesn’t work” not “open for business”. This confusion in terminology also extends to drawbridges. ↩︎
I use the printer in LAN mode, which means there’s no way to monitor it from a phone, even if you’re connected to the same network still. ↩︎

Docker reverse proxying, redux

2022-12-06T00:00:00Z

Six years ago, I described my system for configuring a reverse proxy for docker containers. It involved six containers including a key-value store and a webserver. Nothing in that system has persisted to this day. Don’t get me wrong – it worked – but there were a lot of rough edges and areas for improvement.

Microservices and their limitations

My goal was to follow the UNIX philosophy of “do one thing and do it well”. Unfortunately, that doesn’t really work when applied to network services that have to interact with one and other. UNIX tools are built upon a common file system and simple data passed over STDIN. Microservices don’t have that shared foundation. You could make one: companies that use microservices in anger often have a team that deals with the “developer experience” of creating and using microservices. But as a solo developer that’s not something I wanted to spend my time doing.

This became very apparent when trying to debug issues. In the UNIX world, if your series of commands piped together does something strange you can simply echo the data at various stages. Not so much when that data is flying around on a network, going into and out of things like etcd. Trying to figure out why a certificate hadn’t been acquired was a case of searching through logs from four containers, none of which had particularly good logging. There are many ways to get insight into what’s happening with microservices but, again, that’s not something I wanted to do myself.

Over time, and with experience in other projects, I came to realise that microservices only really make sense if you’re unable to deploy a monolith. For tech companies this naturally happens when different teams contribute to the same service: splitting it out into smaller services that are wholly owned by individual teams makes sense. For solo developers, that never happens. You can still gain the other benefits of microservices – such as code separation and having clearly defined APIs – by sticking to certain coding standards.

Proxy inconveniences

As well as being unhappy with the microservice nature of the solution, I wasn’t pleased with nginx. If you requested an unknown domain, nginx would use the first server block in its config to serve a response, instead of sending an “unrecognised name” alert as I wanted. It was a minor issue, but it irked me.

So from nginx I switched to haproxy. It has a strict-sni option when configuring TLS connections which makes it behave properly. It also performs a lot better for this type of workload than nginx. All was well for a while, but then I started getting alerts that requests were occasionally failing. I couldn’t reproduce the issue, but my nightly jobs to build and push containers managed to hit it nearly every night, causing them to fail.

After some investigation, I found that the haproxy developers had refactored the header parsing code, and neglected to properly reset flags when multiple requests were sent over the same connection. There was a patch, but it wasn’t released. No problem, I thought, I’ll just cherry-pick it onto the last release… Except that haproxy use Git in the most convoluted manner I’ve ever seen – they have one repository per release. This makes it harder to patch, but it also made me question whether I trusted them to ship stable software: there were no tests for the header parsing code (which is both fundamental and finicky, the perfect target for tests), the source code management was weird, and they didn’t seem in any rush to patch this bug.

Not long after that issue, Greg managed to encounter another bug where haproxy returned a 500 error whenever the upstream server replied with a particular, perfectly valid, header. The die was cast – it was time to move to something else.

Not Invented Here syndrome

Looking for a new solution, there were many more options than back in 2016. I’m still convinced, however, that anything exposed to the Internet should not have access to run docker containers. It’s the modern equivalent of running a CGI script as root. That single requirement eliminates most off-the-shelf solutions. What do you do when nothing quite meets your specific requirements? You make something yourself! My new solution has two components: Dotege and Centauri.

Dotege is a replacement for the microservices that monitored containers and obtained certificates. It’s fundamentally a templating engine - whenever the containers change, it evaluates a template and saves the result to disk. The template has access to details about the containers, their labels, ports, and so on. Dotege can also obtain certificates from Let’s Encrypt, and raise a signal against another process whenever the template or certificates change. I used this to generate the configuration and certificates used by haproxy for a while, and more recently changed the template so that it works for Centauri.

Centauri is my own reverse proxy. It’s configured using a simple text file and can also obtain certificates from an ACME provider. It doesn’t serve static content, has no knowledge about docker, and avoids the other bells and whistles that adorn most reverse proxies. It also has good test coverage to ensure that I don’t, say, accidentally break header parsing.

As a software engineer I enjoy writing software, but I also enjoy running simple, easy to understand software. That’s what I’ve achieved here: it’s very easy to identify where the problem is if anything goes wrong, both are small Go programs rather than vast sprawling C monstrosities, and their interaction is primarily through a file written to disk that can be inspected or edited as needed.

An introduction to containers

2020-03-01T00:00:00Z

So. Many. Containers.

I’m a huge fan of (software) containers. Most people I know fall in to one of two camps: either they also use, and are fans of, containers, or they haven’t yet really figured them out and view them as some kind of voodoo that they don’t really want or need.

I’m writing this short guide to explain a little how containers work - and how running something in a container isn’t really that much different to running it normally - to hopefully enable more people in that second group to give them a try. It’s aimed at people who have a fairly good grasp of how Linux works.

Containers are often mentioned in the same breath as VMs, which is not a helpful comparison or analogy. Think of containers as standard units of software, much like how Intermodal containers are standard units of freight transport across the world. When a company internationally ships goods in volume there isn’t a question about how they’re packaged - they go in an intermodal container. The same container can be deployed on a freight train, a lorry, or a ship. The haulage company doesn’t need to care what’s in the container because they’re completely standardised. Likewise, with software containers you don’t really need to care about what’s inside: the software you’re deploying could be written in Go, Python2, Python3, Bash, PHP, LOLCODE, or anything¹.

What does a running container look like?

When you run a container, you’re just running a process. In a lot of ways it’s not very different to what happens if you were to start the same process on the host computer.

For example I have a container that just runs cat(1). With no arguments, cat will read from stdin until it receives an EOF, so it’s handy to test with. If I run ps a on my computer, I can see the cat process in amongst everything else I’m currently running:

    PID TTY      STAT   TIME COMMAND
   7199 pts/1    Ss     0:01 /usr/bin/zsh
 323806 pts/0    Ss+    0:00 /bin/cat
 324120 pts/4    R+     0:00 ps a

The /bin/cat process is in a container, and the ps a underneath it is just running like normal on my desktop. They look very similar, right? If I look under /proc/323806 I can see all the usual attributes, the same as any other process running.

If I run ps in a container, though, it’s a different story:

    PID TTY      STAT   TIME COMMAND
      1 pts/0    Rs+    0:00 ps a

So inside the container it looks like there’s only one process running. It can’t see anything running “outside” on my desktop. The secret here is that this isn’t a special container trick: this is just a feature of the Linux kernel called namespacing.

If we go back to procfs and look at the ns/pid node we can see the process in the container is in a separate PID (process ID) namespace to the one on my desktop:

# readlink /proc/323806/ns/pid  
pid:[4026534564]
# readlink /proc/7199/ns/pid
pid:[4026531836]

Almost all² processes running ’normally’ on my desktop have the same PID namespace, whereas each container gets their own by default. PID namespaces are hierarchical: a new process is assigned a PID in its own namespace, and the parent namespace, and the grandparent namespace, and so on. That’s why I can see the process running in the container from my normal shell - the container’s namespace is a child of the main namespace all of my desktop software is running in.

Linux supports - and container software makes use of - a bunch of other namespaces too: mount points, network, UTS³, cgroups, and more. These all play a part in isolating a container from the system it is running on.

You can manually run a process with unshare(1) to “unshare” some namespaces from the parent process. For example if I run unshare -fp --mount-proc ps a, it looks very similar to running ps instead the container:

    PID TTY      STAT   TIME COMMAND
      1 pts/4    R+     0:00 ps a

So: a process running inside a container is just a heavily namespaced process running otherwise normally in the operating system. No voodoo magic here!

What about the filesystem? What are ‘images’?

Containers run in their own mount namespace meaning mount points can be different inside the container to those on the host. This means the container can have a different / mounted to the host, effectively giving it its own filesystem.

The root filesystem of the container is defined in the container’s image. If I use Docker to run a container using the Ubuntu image (docker run ubuntu), the root filesystem inside that container will resemble a minimal ubuntu install. Note that this is just the filesystem: the container doesn’t have its own kernel.

You might be thinking that sounds pretty inefficient. Downloading Ubuntu is definitely not instant, and doing it for every application you run would be insane! Quite. Containers solve this by using filesystem layers. These are stacked on top of one another to create the final filesystem. Each layer can be retrieved and cached independently of all others.

Say (for simplicity) that the Ubuntu image is a single layer. If I run one container with that image, then the layer will be downloaded and cached once. If I run three hundred containers with that image then the layer will be downloaded and cached once. Even better, if I use another image that’s based on Ubuntu but adds some software on top, only the “on top” layer will be downloaded if I already have the relevant “Ubuntu” layer cached.

If all the layers are cached, what happens when you change a file? This is dealt with using the copy-on-write technique: when you modify a file it is copied from the source layer and the changes are only made in a new layer. This is handled by the OverlayFS filesystem which is part of the mainline kernel.

When a container is running, changes made to its filesystem are temporary, and do not persist across container restarts. To persist data - or introduce new data to a container - you can mount volumes. How this works varies depending on how you’re running your container, but at the basic level it is pretty much the same as bind-mounting (mount -o bind).

You may be familiar with using chroots to change the apparent root directory of processes, perhaps with full-blown “jails” built on top. Containers offer much better isolation thanks to the use of namespaces. Instead of being constrained to a portion of the host’s filesystem, they don’t even have it mounted! Containers also get to specify their environment - if they expect in certain places, for example - instead of the sysadmin having to manually set up the chroot. Finally, containers offer much more fine-grained control over what processes can do (if you want it), and allow much more advanced use-cases such as inter-container networking.

Images and filesystems employ a little magic to ensure that layers are reusable and cacheable, but again there’s nothing terribly special about them: a container has a filesystem that appears to it to work the same way as a filesystem on the host, and it’s using a standard filesystem shipped with the kernel.

How about networking?

Again, networking is namespaced, so a container has its own network stack, its own virtual network interface, its own IP address and so on. How that network interacts with your real network depends on how you’re running the container. Docker, for example, can add iptables rules to NAT traffic between containers' networks and the outside world.

Containers can generally be connected into networks, and can communicate amongst themselves without the traffic actually leaving the host machine. This allows you to, for example, run a SQL database and connect it to a web application without ever exposing the database to the outside world. Moreover, as well as being isolated from the outside world, it’s isolated from other containers in other networks. If one of your applications has a crazy bug or is compromised, this significantly limits the damage it can do.

You have to explicitly opt in to “publishing” ports from a container, which exposes them to the outside world (either directly, or via a load balancer or some other middle-man, depending on how you’re running the container). This means you can pick and chose how the outside world sees the app you’re deploying: if it’s a web service that listens on both port 443 and port 80, you can chose to only expose the encrypted port.

If you run some containers and create some networks, you can see the interfaces and bridges on the host:

$ ip l
...
6: br-2405a8cc0445: <BROADCAST,MULTICAST,UP,LOWER_UP> mtu 1500 qdisc noqueue state UP mode DEFAULT group default 
    link/ether 02:42:3e:fa:23:62 brd ff:ff:ff:ff:ff:ff
8: veth8ed0735@if7: <BROADCAST,MULTICAST,UP,LOWER_UP> mtu 1500 qdisc noqueue master br-2405a8cc0445 state UP mode DEFAULT group default 
    link/ether b2:c1:5d:55:26:9b brd ff:ff:ff:ff:ff:ff link-netnsid 2
10: veth541d84b@if9: <BROADCAST,MULTICAST,UP,LOWER_UP> mtu 1500 qdisc noqueue master br-9d7bc4024c1a state UP mode DEFAULT group default 
    link/ether 86:aa:5f:ee:da:1a brd ff:ff:ff:ff:ff:ff link-netnsid 1

This shows a bridge and two virtual NICs, just the same as if you’d manually created them (albeit with seemingly random names). So: as before, nothing special here.

Docker? Compose? K8s? Floccinaucinihilipilification?

(OK, Floccinaucinihilipilification isn’t actually a container technology, as far as I’m aware.)

Docker is the most popular container engine - that is, the bit of software that actually runs containers. It’s responsible for setting up all those namespaces we found, downloading and caching image layers, and actually starting and stopping the processes. Docker runs as a system-wide daemon - when you run a command like docker run ubuntu it actually just instructs the daemon to do the work.

There are several alternatives to Docker for running containers; one interesting one is Podman which runs containers without a daemon. Container engines have all standardised around the same image format looked after by the Open Container Initiative, so an image you build in Docker can be used in Podman, or pretty much any other engine.

Docker compose is a tool for defining and running multiple-container applications. I mentioned earlier running a database alongside a webapp - in practice to do this you’re going to have to configure a network for them, configure a mount point for the database to persist its data on, pass credentials in to both the database and the application, and so on. Doing all that by hand is tedious and error prone.

Docker compose lets you write “compose files”, which are simple yaml descriptions of the containers you wish to run, their properties, and details about any volumes or networks you may want. Out of the box, docker-compose will create a default network for each compose file you run so the containers within it can communicate.

Kubernetes is a container orchestrator, designed to automate deployment and management of large numbers of containers. It works with Docker under the hood, but provides a huge amount of tooling on top to allow you to deploy applications and manage their dependencies. It runs across multiple physical (or virtual) machines (while still allowing containers to communicate privately), and can support massive workloads by scaling out services (running multiple copies of a container on different hosts) and load balancing. Kubernetes is sometimes shorted to k8s (as in K - 8 elided letters - s) because computer people don’t like long words.

OK, they make sense now. But why bother?

Hopefully if you’ve read this far you’ve already picked up on some of the potential benefits, but this is my personal list:

Isolation. If I run some software in a container, there is very little it can do to upset me. It’s not going to leave bits of itself all over my filesystem, it can’t steal all of the secrets in my home directory, I can even limit its CPU and memory resources if I want. If I decide to stop running it, I just delete the container and it is completely gone: no trace remains.

Ease of use. If you give me a container image I have a very good idea of how to run it already. I might need to do some minor configuration to expose ports or mount volumes, but there’s no question about how to run it, how to make it automatically start, and there’s no “installation” procedure. If I want to then swap it with an alternative (say, move from MySQL to MariaDB), it’s potentially just a case of changing the name of the image I pull.

Dependencies included. Containers just run. Python 2 software includes Python 2 and just work. Python 3 software includes Python 3 and just work. I don’t have a massive headache trying to run both at the same time, because they take care of their own messes. Similarly I’m not going to have to install npm or cargo or composer to pull in dependencies for an application: that’s going to have been done in the build process.

Reproducibility. As a fallout from having dependencies included and being isolated from everything else, containers give you amazing reproducibility. If it “works on your machine” in a container, it’ll almost certainly work in production because it’s the exact same environment.

Standardisation. At the start of this article I called containers standard units of software. One of my favourite advantages of containers is that you basically get an API to list all the software you’re running. Most container engines let you supply labels attached to containers as well, so you can add your own annotations. I use this to annotate services which expose HTTP endpoints, and I have a tool that automatically generates SSL certificates for them and configures haproxy to route traffic to them. I can’t imagine how I’d do this without containers - I imagine it’d involve a lot of manual work.

Hopefully this has helped demystify containers a little. If you feel like I’ve missed something important out, or I’ve left you more confused than when you started, feel free to drop me a note using the feedback form below.

OK, maybe you should care if you’re deploying something written in crazy languages like PHP. ↩︎
Some multi-process apps, such as web browsers, are starting to use namespaces to enhance security, as do certain package systems like Flatpak ↩︎
“Unix timesharing system”; in practice this means having a separate hostname ↩︎