Hide Out

I sat on a rock by a river today for a long time listening to the sound of water falling.  It's amazing how sweet that was.  I'm restless, my mind is chewing on something that it will not let go, and now is not the time for a long trip, so I loaded up the car and headed to Dunn's Falls.  A short twisting county backroads drive, a dollar and a half handed to the wizened ranger behind the sliding glass window, a quick trip down steep stairs thoughtfully surfaced with old shingles for better grip, and I had what I needed for the most part.

A fair number of people come to see Dunn's Falls, but the beauty of it is that nobody really stays very long.  They are transient, walking down to take quick pictures, delicately picking their way across the limestone shelf, holding a child's hand as he or she wades in the cool water there, looking up at the rusting mill wheel, and then, by and large, the people go away again.  It's possible to be peaceful for long periods of time there.  There is no swimming area, no concession stand, no fishing or boating area.  The river is not easily accessible for wading.  There is no picnicable place.

My little rock tucked into the corner is quiet, shady most of the day, large enough to pull my legs up when I want to sit indian-style, and dry enough to put my camera gear and other things on as well, just in the flow enough to let me dandle my feet if it gets too sultry.  I took pictures for awhile and then came back to the rock, wrote in my journal, read my Kindle, just sat and looked at the river lazing away below.

Eventually, a "serious photographer" showed up with a Nikon D3 and a tripod and started messing around, scrambling up the falls and so forth.  He had a good time, and I was much amused watching him, especially when he ignored the sign that said "DO NOT CLIMB FALLS" to get a shot he wanted.  I wanted to take a shot of him standing basically right under that sign with his setup, but I didn't think he'd appreciate the irony of that as much as I did.

He saw me with my D80, and came over to condescend to me some.  "Oh, what's that you're shooting with?  A D50?"  Um.  No.  D80.  (and yes.  I know you have one of the great gods of KAMERA there, chief.  I do recognize them when I sees them.) "Let me show you a cool trick..."  And he proceeded to try to talk to me about slow shutter speeds making cool effects on waterfalls....  I proceeded to make polite noises.

It's true, though, that I don't control my camera as well as I'd like to.  I can't deny that I'm still having trouble with the controls (NOT THE CONCEPT OF THE CONTROLS) of the D80.  I need to print out some of the PDF of my manual to take out with me.  I don't have a hard copy, and when I get out shooting, I get all the buttons turned around in my head.  This camera is complex with menus, buttons, and little wheels that make it do everything but make coffee.

It's also true that the guy was basically harmless.  He was just one of those "experts" who can only share the love of something by being a bit didactic.  We were showing each other pics off the back of the cameras, and making the appropriate polite sounds, and he told me that he thought I should print some of mine.  That was nice to hear.  I always figure that nobody but me and my family who has to sort of pretend to love what I do anyway much cares what I do with my camera.  To have a perfect stranger tell me that was gratifying.

I sat today until the water combed away the worst of the mental tangles.  It's good at doing that.  Then I put my camera, my Kindle, and my journal away, climbed the steep, rickety steps again, and slowly drove home.  It's good to have a place to hide when needed.  It's necessary.