Wednesday, June 19, 2013

One more look at Canyon de Chelly

I used a different camera than what I'm used to when I went to Canyon de Chelly last week. Since 2007 I've used two different Nikons and became a DSLR snob. Yes. I admit it. Point and shoots were for amateurs. I'm far from being a pro but I wasn't going to use something that never had to have a lens changed. I have several lenses for the Nikons, fancy specialty ones among them, and the entire entourage probably weighed 30 pounds. I didn't carry everything every time but I have them just in case. There was a certain cachet in pausing to change lenses. It made me feel smart. What a bunch of hooey.

I got to the point I wasn't carrying the heavy Nikon anywhere anymore. Maybe it's a concession to my age, maybe I've gotten smart. I like to think it's the smart option. I always had my iPhone with me anyway so that's what I used for photos, but it was too much of a swing toward minimalist. I needed something in the middle. So Friday at Canyon de Chelly and Saturday at Blue Mesa I used a new Lumix point-and-shoot model and I can't tell the difference in the quality of the images.

I don't need a tripod because this model has stabilization up and down, left and right, and at cross angles. It has GPS which I wish I'd had when I found the arrowhead in the Painted Desert. It has other features I haven't discovered yet but right now I'm happy with what I do know about it. If I get nostalgic about shooting based on aperture or shutter speed I can choose that but I'm pretty happy with the idiot side of the dial.

Here are the rest of the photos I decided to keep from that day trip. It can be so hard to show scale. Keep in mind that people live in the canyon, the roads you see in the pictures are not footpaths but carry vehicular traffic, and the trees are full-grown.

 

















Yep, all from a point-and-shoot. I have a Nikon D300 and a slew of lenses for sale. Not for the faint of heart or body.

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Thought of the day:

May your trails be crooked, winding, lonesome, dangerous, leading to the most amazing view. May your mountains rise into and above the clouds. (Edward Abbey)