Tales of an Old Dog
Those of you who are good enough to take the time to read these irreverent diversions may be aware that deep within the bowels of my camera bag lurks a 16-35mm lens, which has had a bit of a colourful history since it came into my possession. I bought it at the beginning of last year, not long after I'd decided to go full frame as it seemed an obvious necessity for the trip to Iceland the following summer. Within the first six months of owning it, it had almost vanished over the edge of the cliffs at St Agnes Head; it had survived a tumble on the secret beach in front of the famous sea stacks of Reynisdrangar in Iceland (my favourite 6 stop filter sacrificed itself to save the lens there); and it had taken a nasty jolt as I damaged both myself and my camera equipment during the split second it occurred to me that a slipway in Majorca might be slippery - at which point I was suspended in mid air over hard concrete. Following this series of near disasters I concluded the lens was cursed and resolved to limit its future use for the safety of my camera and myself.
You can read about the first escapade here.
www.flickr.com/photos/126574513@N04/33828822308/in/datepo...
And you can read about the second calamity here:
www.flickr.com/photos/126574513@N04/49974389827/in/datepo...
You can't read about the final instalment in this sad trilogy, because I didn't get a shot worth sharing. Nobody is going to be interested in a bit of sky filled motion blur when Majorca has so much more to offer the visitor.
Somehow, and I'm not sure whether I consider this is good luck or just that Canon like to build gear that can take a bit of abuse, the lens has survived all of these incidents. It's just that I barely ever use it, a bad thing because unloved lenses begin to look unloved very quickly and I've already lost a couple of older (and fortunately less frighteningly priced) lenses to fungus. Nowadays if I ask it to auto focus it groans a bit, tries whirring halfheartedly for a moment or two in a pathetic attempt to persuade me it's trying before it beeps at me plaintively as a red square appears on the viewfinder. It's a bit like having an elderly overweight dog that looks at the beach it used to bound across effortlessly before turning to gaze back at me as if to say "Nah! I'll just sit here. You go on without me. I'll be alright"
So last night I decided the old dog was getting some exercise. I'd been here with Lee a couple of months earlier on a superb evening when the beach was empty at low tide, patterns all over the sand with hundreds of tiny pools of seawater trapped in them. On that evening my attempt to catch a series of panels for a panorama had failed - they usually do with seascapes - but I reasoned I might get a decent result with the wide angle lens, which does a better job of getting a sharp image from back to front in any case. Or at least it does when it wants to play. Lee has told me half a dozen times about the place he recommends for a repair. I'm not very organised though.
Of course the beach had no such tiny pools on this occasion, and naturally the shot I've shared with you was taken at 33mm meaning I could have taken it with my much more compliant 24-70mm lens. But still, the old dog led me to this composition long after sunset, although the sense of utter calm is a lie because a large and noisy family had decided to invade my space and were standing right behind me throwing stones into the pool for a real dog called Spencer to race in after, something he did with a deal of enthusiasm. At some point I sensed Spencer sniffing the backs of my legs, but I pretended not to notice. Eventually and to my lasting relief, Spencer and his humans moved on to torment some other oddball loner and left this one to his own company.
But the old dog had won the day, and during the session the other two lenses remained in the bag untouched. I came away in almost total darkness feeling chastened by the experience, which had reminded how good this lens will be when I finally get around to sending it off to be repaired. I'd better phone Lee and get him to tell me who to use for a seventh time then.
Tales of an Old Dog
Those of you who are good enough to take the time to read these irreverent diversions may be aware that deep within the bowels of my camera bag lurks a 16-35mm lens, which has had a bit of a colourful history since it came into my possession. I bought it at the beginning of last year, not long after I'd decided to go full frame as it seemed an obvious necessity for the trip to Iceland the following summer. Within the first six months of owning it, it had almost vanished over the edge of the cliffs at St Agnes Head; it had survived a tumble on the secret beach in front of the famous sea stacks of Reynisdrangar in Iceland (my favourite 6 stop filter sacrificed itself to save the lens there); and it had taken a nasty jolt as I damaged both myself and my camera equipment during the split second it occurred to me that a slipway in Majorca might be slippery - at which point I was suspended in mid air over hard concrete. Following this series of near disasters I concluded the lens was cursed and resolved to limit its future use for the safety of my camera and myself.
You can read about the first escapade here.
www.flickr.com/photos/126574513@N04/33828822308/in/datepo...
And you can read about the second calamity here:
www.flickr.com/photos/126574513@N04/49974389827/in/datepo...
You can't read about the final instalment in this sad trilogy, because I didn't get a shot worth sharing. Nobody is going to be interested in a bit of sky filled motion blur when Majorca has so much more to offer the visitor.
Somehow, and I'm not sure whether I consider this is good luck or just that Canon like to build gear that can take a bit of abuse, the lens has survived all of these incidents. It's just that I barely ever use it, a bad thing because unloved lenses begin to look unloved very quickly and I've already lost a couple of older (and fortunately less frighteningly priced) lenses to fungus. Nowadays if I ask it to auto focus it groans a bit, tries whirring halfheartedly for a moment or two in a pathetic attempt to persuade me it's trying before it beeps at me plaintively as a red square appears on the viewfinder. It's a bit like having an elderly overweight dog that looks at the beach it used to bound across effortlessly before turning to gaze back at me as if to say "Nah! I'll just sit here. You go on without me. I'll be alright"
So last night I decided the old dog was getting some exercise. I'd been here with Lee a couple of months earlier on a superb evening when the beach was empty at low tide, patterns all over the sand with hundreds of tiny pools of seawater trapped in them. On that evening my attempt to catch a series of panels for a panorama had failed - they usually do with seascapes - but I reasoned I might get a decent result with the wide angle lens, which does a better job of getting a sharp image from back to front in any case. Or at least it does when it wants to play. Lee has told me half a dozen times about the place he recommends for a repair. I'm not very organised though.
Of course the beach had no such tiny pools on this occasion, and naturally the shot I've shared with you was taken at 33mm meaning I could have taken it with my much more compliant 24-70mm lens. But still, the old dog led me to this composition long after sunset, although the sense of utter calm is a lie because a large and noisy family had decided to invade my space and were standing right behind me throwing stones into the pool for a real dog called Spencer to race in after, something he did with a deal of enthusiasm. At some point I sensed Spencer sniffing the backs of my legs, but I pretended not to notice. Eventually and to my lasting relief, Spencer and his humans moved on to torment some other oddball loner and left this one to his own company.
But the old dog had won the day, and during the session the other two lenses remained in the bag untouched. I came away in almost total darkness feeling chastened by the experience, which had reminded how good this lens will be when I finally get around to sending it off to be repaired. I'd better phone Lee and get him to tell me who to use for a seventh time then.