Lessons learned. Again!

I've been looking forward to this weekend for quite some time. To start with, I am home. High School and Junior High School basketball seasons are over. And except for a little paperwork I don't have to work this weekend. So as the week wound down yesterday I packed the essentials in my trusty camera backpack and headed out. Three days of photographic bliss. Almost.

I've been hiking for about forty years. It started in the Boy Scouts where I learned to be prepared. Their motto. I embraced it. I am always prepared. So as I decided on equipment to take last night, and which backpack to carry it in, I was satisfied that I was ready. No. Prepared! Within two hundred yards of my car I realized that I wasn't prepared. I had forgotten an essential piece of equipment for a photographer that was hiking out on a trail to catch a sunset. A flashlight. Forty years ago I carried a flashlight, but all Boy Scouts know the pride of hiking through the woods with no light to guide them. I also carried one in the Army. But for tactical reasons we seldom used them. Last night as I crawled over basketball sized rocks in my trail to the lakeside, I realized that I was just a little too old to do that at night without a light. I also realized that I had not told anyone where I was going. Once the sun went down I would be blind. And the search party wasn't coming. I had visions of a stubbed toe turning into a broken face, or elbow. Me lying there, moaning, hoping some hiker would find me on this obscure trail that I found on Google Maps. Lesson learned, buy another flashlight. Put one in each backpack and leave it there. The light was on my mind all evening and I left the lake earlier than I wanted to so I could make it off of the trail before it got dark.

I live in the desert. The Sonoran Desert. I'm surrounded by giant saguaro cactus, among other varieties that may be smaller but still prickly. So when I get around a body of water larger than my pool I am entranced. The sun or moon reflecting off of the water slowly easing the tensions of the week. When I got to my selected spot last night I set up my tripod. Took a few pictures. Checked my composition. Then sat down to enjoy a semi-cold soda that I had brought with me. Out of the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of something, an old water line. Piles of driftwood at the level the lake once rose to. As I turned to look at it closer I noticed a big beautiful hill full of saguaro cactus. Glowing orange. I tried to adjust and take a few photos but the water held my attention. Lesson learned, turn around. I should have done a 360 once I got to my location. While I enjoyed my little lakeside break I would have been even happier capturing the hill with a better composition.

While I was setting up my tripod last night I took special care to select good flat and solid places for it's feet. The limestone rocks covering the hill weren't friendly to tripod legs. As I was turning around to enjoy the view of the saguaro filled hill I learned my next lesson. I am always very careful when I move around my tripod. Deliberately moving my feet so they won't come into contact with the legs. I had already watched this tripod, with my brand new camera and a very long lens, hit my cool deck. I was in my back yard taking some photos of the moon. My wife came outside to say hello so I sat with her for a few minutes. She also brought our very old, and apparently very blind, dog. Pepper ran through the legs of the tripod. Before you could yell "fetch", the tripod and camera were set in motion. Have you ever seen a movie where the action occurs in slow motion? My camera hit the deck in slow motion. Me yelling a long and deep "nooooooooo". At impact time rushed to catch up as the lens and camera separated from each other at the speed of light. Parts scattering across around the yard. Lessons learned that night, anchor your tripod and insure your equipment. That was two years ago. Last night, as I turned to look at the beautiful, glowing hill, I noticed that my camera was moving. Immediately my brain knows that this object that I cherish is inanimate. Self propulsion is impossible. With no comprehension of the laws of physics, my camera had set out to smash itself upon the rocks. I willed my hands to move into the path of movement, taking care not to hit the tripod and rush the process of destruction. I stopped it. All is well. I had been too lazy to anchor the tripod. And I almost payed for it. But the real lesson I learned, if you set your tripod up on a rock no bigger than a dinner plate, take care not to step on that rock.

I love being outside. Being a photographer takes me to some beautiful places. I once read a blog that another photographer had written stating that the best photos are always taken within one hundred yards of the road. No hiking required. I think that there is something to be said for getting away from all of the other photographers. So get out there. Take a little hike into the back country. It's good for your heart, and good for your soul. Just remember to take a flashlight.