I started taking pictures back in the days when the only electronic circuits in many cameras were found in the flash unit, and when one-hour developing was an impossible dream unless you had a key to a darkroom. As a would-be professional photographer, I spent long hours mastering the interplay of aperture, shutter speed, and film, while also studying the elements of composition and the chemistry of color. It payed off. Before long, I could coax properly exposed shots from my camera under nearly all conditions of light and shade, and I was as proud of this skill as I was of my ability to place my canoe exactly where it needed to be in the midst of the swirling chaos of a fast-moving river.

That being the case, it’s not surprising that I didn’t exactly shout for joy when the first all-electronic, point-and-shoot cameras came along. They were just too easy to use. I didn’t want the hours I’d spent puzzling over f-stops and ASA (now ISO) numbers to be wasted, did I? Certainly not. In time, however, convenience won out over control, and practicality trumped pride. I bought a compact, water-resistant 35mm Olympus Stylus

Tags: cameras, digicams

 
There’s something about a swamp that captures our imaginations. Maybe it’s the close, clinging, humid air. The constant drone of insect life. Or the heady perfume of rot and renewal. Or is it the green, shadowy, inviting labyrinths, the channels that wander everywhere but end up going nowhere? Or maybe—this is the likeliest explanation, I think—it’s all of these things. And of all the swamps I’ve known, one stands out above the rest. It’s nameless, at least on the maps, and it’s nothing much to look at, but the locals know it’s something special. To them, it’s always been The Swamp, and that’s what I call it, too.

I caught my first glimpse of The Swamp through the windshield of an aging Jeep, while I was driving to a new job, many years ago. The road I took that day cut across the Flats, a well-watered lowland that nestled in the perpetual half-light of a hollow between two ridges. My route to work was anything but direct. It ran along the first ridge, then plummeted headlong onto the Flats, only to claw its way back up to the crest of the second ridge. Looking down from the high road, I caught a glimpse of open water to the north. I didn’t know it at the time, but I’d just seen The Swamp. Once on the Flats, however, all I could see was an occasional drowned pine, the weathered ivory of its trunk towering over the low green wall of the dense roadside scrub. There was no concealing the smell, though. The musky perfume was unmistakable.

Few paddlers could resist such a challenge, and I was no exception. I’d just gotten my first canoe, and I longed to get a closer look at the secret waters visible only from the high road. But work came first, and for week after week I got no nearer than the ridge tops. The Flats kept its secrets, and as summer gave way to early autumn, and fog filled the hollow between the hills, I was denied even the occasional glint of sunlight on water. The dead pines, too, were lost in the ever-present mist. Only the lusty stink of decaying vegetation remained to remind me of what I’d seen. Read more…

Tags: legends, swamps, Works of the Imagination

 
When parked with a dual-legged kickstand, my road bike usually rests on the front wheel, but sometimes, Trucker wants to settle on the rear wheel, lifting the front wheel off the ground. If I’m not attentive, the wheel swings until the barcon (aka bar-end shifter) smacks against the top tube. I needed a quick solution to avoiding marring the top tube’s finish, so I rummaged in the tool kit until I found a small hook-and-loop strap, originally designed to corral loops of electric cord or computer cables. Wrapped around the top tube and positioned properly, the strap is enough to pad the tube and prevent the handlebar from scratching the paint job. It ain’t elegant, but it was handy and will do till something better comes along. I’ll probably pad the tube with a wrapping of leather which I’ll sew on using a herringbone stitch, being careful to slip the leather under the rear brake cable.

Tags: & How-to, Let's Bike! Cycling, make-shift adaptations, outfitting