The better part of Friday evening was spent gearing up, charging batteries, cleaning lenses, preparing to get some great shots and practicing in manual mode.
The mood in the warm Saturday morning air was calm but charged with excitement. After unpacking, I threw on my backpack, grabbed the camera and tripod and started towards the nearest taxiway.
And that's when time froze....
When time un-froze, my camera had crash-landed onto the taxiway and exploded in a shower of bright shiny fragments of what I could only assume were now useless (and very expensive) bits of metal and glass.
"This did NOT just happen!" my brain screamed at me. However, the evidence laying before me was unmistakable.
I had just dropped my camera and it was in many, irreversible pieces.
A sickening feeling filled my stomach as it tied itself in knots, and, yes.. I think my eyes began to well up. The camera lay on its back, helpless, and quite possibly worthless at this point, as well as any aspirations I had of being a great photographer. "Great Photographers don't drop their @!^$# Cameras, RAY!!"
I put my gear down, still numb from what just happened and bent over the shattered pieces. The body was first to be inspected. On it's display, instead of all the usual numbers, graphs, arrows and blinky-things was simply the following:
"Err"
A pained whimper escaped my lips. Still attached to the body were the shattered remains of a 2X teleconverter. Most if it was scattered around but a sizable chunk still remained attached to the body and wasn't coming off without a fight.
Next was the 70-200mm EG VR II lens. Again with the leftover remains of the 2X converter still hanging on to the bayonet mount. That part came off a little easier but still had some life left in it as it bit my finger during the extraction process...
Cradling the body, I cycled power. A tenuous display of graphs, numbers and blinky-things gave a familiar nod. Holding it face down, I gently shook it to see if any other vital organs failed... none did.
Next, I gave the 70-200 lens a tentative shake and was relieved it didn't sound like a large soda can full of of marbles and glass chunks. Twisting the lens back on, I said a little prayer....
Pressing the button, the shutter tripped. It.... took a picture!
I never thought it was possible for the human spirit to feel 2 polar opposite emotions at the same time but here was proof. I was both mortified at my own utter stupidity and ecstatic beyond words that my beloved camera was still operating.
The airshow went on, I took pictures throughout the day (Albeit at a somewhat lesser magnification power than I wanted) and came back with some good shots.
And that was perfectly fine with me. Here's the link to airshow gallery:
What Happened?
During my walk out to the flight line, the camera strap had somehow become entangled around the tripod release lever. Pulling the tripod off my shoulder caused it to catch somewhere on my backpack which then released the tripod mount lever.
The 2X converter died that day, having sacrificed itself to save the others. It was a fairly inexpensive converter but that day it was worth it's weight in gold.
So... lesson learned. I'll wear that strap around my neck and you will never see me without that strap ever again. I'm also looking at insurance for my gear. I had been putting it off, but... time lost is gear lost.
Ray
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