I was once told by another photographer who had been living/working here at the camp that the days were long, and the nights longer. I thought it sounded romanticized but had no idea until I experienced it for myself. Yes, my first night was painfully long. The wind gusted all night causes the tent to shake thunderously. Freight trains passed every few hours, that shook the ground. The only way I cab describe this experience is if you have ever been camping at a campground that has a group who makes noise into the wee hours, drunk, unsettled people wandering from tent to tent, and it just never seems to quiet down.
I had strange dreams of the highway patrol lining up on the far bank of the river ready to move us. All my scrapper buddies from the SF camp were there as well. Really, really weird.
I made a very big mistake this morning. I did not bring a camera bag. I was already carrying way too much. This morning I changed lenses from my 50 to a 16-35 to shhoot the camp in the morning light. I put the 50 in my goody pocket. Walking through the brush to get higher ground I stumbled. I later realized my 50 was gone. It must have fell out when I stumbled. I retraced my steps, with no success. The brush was too thick. I feel so dumb. I made this mistake once before when I was following scrappers in SF. Though, I was able to find it then. This puts such a damper on the day. But I have to look past it and keep working. I’m going to miss that lens this evening after the sun sets. That 50 1.4 lensrocks in low light.
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