My Nikon DSLR camera is in for repair. I just got the call and gave the go ahead; $220.00 parts and labor. I will be without it for two weeks. But, once again, I’m lucky to be alive, and I consider that a good trade off.
Here’s a little story I left out of our Recent Trip Report.
Barking Spider and I had fallen a bit behind our women folk. We were having a geology discussion as we were ascending a broad wash. Small steep gullies were dropping in from the right and their edges and the high edge of our wash were lined with nicely stacked dark rocks of similar size, about the size of basketballs.
“Those look like someone has stacked all those rocks. There must be an old mining operation nearby or maybe even older human activity.” Barking said.
“I don’t know,” I countered. “I think this all could be remnants of large debris flows and subsequent rain storms have washed away all the smaller material leaving these all stacked in this fashion.”
We were enjoying being amateur geologists, enjoying discovering and fleshing out a puzzle.
“Let's climb up there and take a look. This could also be an old cut with a dozer.” Barking was ready for action.
We climbed up. We found no real evidence that suggested mining work and everything seemed aligned with gravity and water flow. I moved ahead, higher, and up to the edge of the side gully’s steep wash. The stacked dark rocks were in stark relief above the sandy colored rock of the bedrock, cobble, and gravel. I stepped up on a large flat rock on the edge preparing to find a route across this gully and to drop back into the main wash. As I moved my weight across it, it shifted; I was launched face first into the gully. I still must have some youth like abilities left. I did not want to hit where I was heading, no way. All this was instinctive reaction. There was a short pour over below me. I reached out with my left hand and pushed off into a barrow roll to the left, down the gully. I cleared the pour over and landed on my back in the gravel at the base. I landed hard on my pack. I didn’t realize how hard until I awoke the next morning wanting a couple of advils with coffee. The only other injuries were a bruised left palm, scraped left elbow, and a bunch of holes in the seat of my pants. I don’t know how that came about. The fall was over ten feet and I was just damn lucky.
Mrs. Spider was up the main wash, had just dropped her pack, and was shedding a layer as she looked down canyon to see where we were- just as I launched. She witnessed the launch, the roll, but then I dropped out of sight. I heard her yell that I had fallen. I answered that I was okay. I only remember doing a half flip. She says I pushed off so hard I did a one and a half and scored it a 9.5.
Barking Spider was behind me on the side hill. He was in the middle of a personal break, in the universal position. He had turned around and saw nothing. After the Mrs.’s yell, I could hear him dancing, trying to hurry but not get himself embarrassingly wet.
“Is your camera okay?” was the first thing he asked. He had heard me answer previously. I had been taking photos. The strap was around my neck. After I hit, the camera slammed me in the middle of the chest, a good place for it to hit. Not a mark on it. It worked perfectly. As I said, damn lucky.
“So what in the heck happened to your camera?” You are probably asking after all of this. That night the Lady and I had retired to our camper. We were deep into a game a scrabble after viewing the day’s photos on the camera’s LCD. The camera was resting on top of the towel covering our ice chest. I had one foot up on the ice chest in a relaxed position and I moved just a bit. The towel moved. The camera moved. The camera dropped off the chest a little over a foot to the camper floor. No visible outside damage but the LCD was toast.
$220 parts and labor and estimated two weeks turnaround time.
Battle scars.
Here’s a little story I left out of our Recent Trip Report.
Barking Spider and I had fallen a bit behind our women folk. We were having a geology discussion as we were ascending a broad wash. Small steep gullies were dropping in from the right and their edges and the high edge of our wash were lined with nicely stacked dark rocks of similar size, about the size of basketballs.
“Those look like someone has stacked all those rocks. There must be an old mining operation nearby or maybe even older human activity.” Barking said.
“I don’t know,” I countered. “I think this all could be remnants of large debris flows and subsequent rain storms have washed away all the smaller material leaving these all stacked in this fashion.”
We were enjoying being amateur geologists, enjoying discovering and fleshing out a puzzle.
“Let's climb up there and take a look. This could also be an old cut with a dozer.” Barking was ready for action.
We climbed up. We found no real evidence that suggested mining work and everything seemed aligned with gravity and water flow. I moved ahead, higher, and up to the edge of the side gully’s steep wash. The stacked dark rocks were in stark relief above the sandy colored rock of the bedrock, cobble, and gravel. I stepped up on a large flat rock on the edge preparing to find a route across this gully and to drop back into the main wash. As I moved my weight across it, it shifted; I was launched face first into the gully. I still must have some youth like abilities left. I did not want to hit where I was heading, no way. All this was instinctive reaction. There was a short pour over below me. I reached out with my left hand and pushed off into a barrow roll to the left, down the gully. I cleared the pour over and landed on my back in the gravel at the base. I landed hard on my pack. I didn’t realize how hard until I awoke the next morning wanting a couple of advils with coffee. The only other injuries were a bruised left palm, scraped left elbow, and a bunch of holes in the seat of my pants. I don’t know how that came about. The fall was over ten feet and I was just damn lucky.
Mrs. Spider was up the main wash, had just dropped her pack, and was shedding a layer as she looked down canyon to see where we were- just as I launched. She witnessed the launch, the roll, but then I dropped out of sight. I heard her yell that I had fallen. I answered that I was okay. I only remember doing a half flip. She says I pushed off so hard I did a one and a half and scored it a 9.5.
Barking Spider was behind me on the side hill. He was in the middle of a personal break, in the universal position. He had turned around and saw nothing. After the Mrs.’s yell, I could hear him dancing, trying to hurry but not get himself embarrassingly wet.
“Is your camera okay?” was the first thing he asked. He had heard me answer previously. I had been taking photos. The strap was around my neck. After I hit, the camera slammed me in the middle of the chest, a good place for it to hit. Not a mark on it. It worked perfectly. As I said, damn lucky.
“So what in the heck happened to your camera?” You are probably asking after all of this. That night the Lady and I had retired to our camper. We were deep into a game a scrabble after viewing the day’s photos on the camera’s LCD. The camera was resting on top of the towel covering our ice chest. I had one foot up on the ice chest in a relaxed position and I moved just a bit. The towel moved. The camera moved. The camera dropped off the chest a little over a foot to the camper floor. No visible outside damage but the LCD was toast.
$220 parts and labor and estimated two weeks turnaround time.
Battle scars.
Wow, Ski, quite the story. Glad to hear you came out of it as well as you did. Ironic follow-up about how the camera got damaged.
