Adventure: Stuff That Makes Us Feel

Daniel Milnor

March 6

I absolutely love this movie and can recite most lines and scenes. My friends typically fall into one of two categories when it comes to Jim Carrey. Those who are in awe of his comedic talent, and those who take themselves a bit too seriously to enjoy what Jim brings to the table. I guess a third would be people who just hate comedy and don't laugh. I'm not joking here. I know a few people who don't find ANYTHING based around comedy to be funny. I've sat with them as we experiment with standup routine after standup routine and they just keep repeating "Not funny." Could be Gaffigan, Chappelle, Carrey, etc.

But let's get back to the "So you are saying there's a chance," idea.

We all know the bulk of successful online material when it comes to photography revolves around gear. Blogs, video sites, rumor sites, etc. Gear, gear, and gear. I believe the vast majority of men dwelling on these sites, and let's face it men, it's us, would rather talk gear than actually make images. Absolutely nothing wrong with that. You can either be a photographer or you can appear to be a photographer, and appearing to be is more than enough for the majority of prosumer photography types who obsess over equipment.

For me, equipment means something else, and it certainly FEELS something else. For me, gear is a means to an end, and the "end" is the only thing that matters. For example, I need to drive the van to a specific lake, unpack my collapsible canoe, pack my birding gear in a waterproof bag of some sort, add my camping gear and head out to find a specific bird that represents the county where the lake exists. The PRIMARY focus of this entire adventure is THE BIRD. The primary focus is not the camera brand, the canoe brand or the make of van I happen to drive out. It's the goddamn bird. Everything else is a layer of obstruction keeping me from the goddamn bird.

For me, gear is a means to an end, and the "end" is the only thing that matters. Gear makes me feel a certain way.

The lake I was talking about. Extremely low water levels now.In fact, no boat traffic allowed.

For the past two years I tried to solve the waterproof bag "thing." I love being in the canoe, and I love birding and fishing from the canoe, but I never had a good waterproof solution. Consequently, I would derail my own plans but fumbling around with either subpar options or no options at all. I tried stuffing gear in a cooler. I tried dry sacks. I tried toploader, water-resistant packs. I would always end up stifled as I tried to cover three or four adventurous bases at a time. From Maine to Ohio to New Mexico, I never seemed to get what I was after.

And then I found my pack. Nothing too fancy, but uniquely built and perfectly suited for my needs. And I also found my long-lens birding rig. I had options here, but based on a variety of measures, I made a decision to move in the Nikon direction. Now, I have this setup. Now what? Both of these things are no longer taking up space in my limited capacity brain because I know they are there and I know they work. Now, all the matters is the goddamn bird.

When I look down and I see this setup, it makes me FEEL something. It makes me imagine my upcoming mission to nail a new feathered friend and add to my ongoing, multi-year project that if done correctly will showcase and utilize every skill I have ever developed. So, you are saying there's a chance I get to drive to the lake, deploy the canoe, pack my kit and nail the goddamn bird? That's the juice baby. That's why this stuff matters. It's the only reason it matters. If I was focused on the van or the canoe or the camera kit, wouldn't that mean I was missing the point? If you find yourself spending copious time on gear sites, ask yourself why. And then ask if you have a goal, a mission or a drive that is fueling your time on the site. If not, take a break and step away. Read a book, see a film and find your fire. Without fire, with drive, life becomes hollow as you wait for widgets.