Oh Fuuuuuuddddggggge

I’ve alluded to the camera disaster in an earlier post, and those of you on Facebook might have seen the oddly-framed shots from my recent National Park spree. Last Wednesday started out like any other day…well, not really—only once before in my life have I awoken in Salt Lake City, and even then not in a hostel-cum-boarding house. But anyway, I did some errands (a useless fuel run to REI, as it turns out—I suspect the Hanukkah miracle was really because they were using a JetBoil), snapped some photos, and headed for Promontory. I took some pictures of the trains, set up a timer shot of me and the Golden Spike monument, and did a panoramic photo of the Great Salt Lake…never knowing it was The Last Time. I paid my dollar for the Big Fill trail guide (this is the latest thing in the National Parks—pony up for hiking information…the wrong person must have gone to Europe) and sat in the parking lot assembling my mini-pack for a short hike…water, Clif Bar, tripod, car key, Lumphy…and put my camera in my lap so it could go in my pocket when I got up. But it made a detour first.

When I was almost ready to go, an old couple of Illinois Republicans pulled in and parked next to me. Seeking to avoid the awkwardness of hiking next to them, I tried to hurry it up. Stood up, forgot the camera was there…boom. It might have been ok if the parking lot weren’t gravel and it didn’t land screen-down on a large jagged edge. I noticed a dent right by the LCD screen. Didn’t think it was that big a deal, but turned on the camera just to make sure. And nothing appeared. Nothing but a small, broken-glass design black spot emanating from the dent.

I was devastated. I felt like a friend I’d just seen had suddenly died. It cast a significant pall on the whole day. No more setting up shots. No more of the neat features I’ve been gaining facility with. No more status reports on batteries or memory cards. I was envisioning my suspension-bridge budget stretching to cover disposable cameras, film developing…another real camera? Glacier National Park on a 10-photo-a-day budget. Trying to sketch what I see. My will to travel was gone.

I went through the stages of grief. How could I have been so careless? Could I just have that one moment back and be a tiny bit more careful? I’m so conscientious about keeping the wrist strap on me at all times…why did I slip up here? Maybe the screen’s just recalibrating and it will come back to life. Maybe someone has a camera they’re not using that I could have. I’ll just start carrying my old film camera again. Why did this have to happen?

I’m happy to say I’ve reached acceptance. A quick check with the laptop reassured me that even though I can’t see them immediately, photos are still being taken. I remember the sequence of buttons for self-timer and flash adjustment, and even made a stab at a panorama of Seattle the other day (it ended up with 2 Space Needles, but the idea was captured). I’ve quickly gotten used to the uncertainty of not knowing how or whether a picture came out (kinda like my entire life up until 2 years ago), and I’ve gotten rather skilled at framing shots blindly. I even figured out how to format a card via the computer! My camera is still a trusty friend who was just crippled, not killed, in a recent accident. Things are going to be ok.