two miles from the car

This story begins with the purchase of a camera. No, check that. This story begins with planning a trip to Germany. Or does it begin with taking German in high school? Let's start with Germany.

I'm planning a trip to Germany for the fall. I'm excited about it, and reticent, because I've never been to Europe. In order to capture everything, I knew I needed a new camera. I wanted to buy it well in advance of my trip so that I wasn't frustrated with learning to operate it once there. I see an incredible example of fourteenth century architecture, then later try to recreate the image in my mind because what I see coming out of my camera is only a blurred underexposed mess.

Even the appellation of 'amateur' does not apply to my photographic skills. I am at most a photophile. I cannot just sit back and allow some programmer or engineer choose the best aperture, shutter, and exposure settings for my expeditions from some office in the northeast. No, I want control of those things myself. That's where the creativity comes in. A tweak to the light there, an intentional blur to the edges with center in sharp focus, purposefully underexposing to trick the eye into studying shadows. There is technical detail, familiarity, and a "sense" that are required to create a photograph. There is a difference between making and creating.

I set out with my friend H., who has been known to take a decent photo or two, and we trekked into the wilderness for some camera fun. It's really a city park with a comfortable isolation from the urban area surrounding it. After snapping pictures for about forty-five minutes, we found ourselves at the end to the trail and standing by a highway. Twilight was coming up, but there was still some good light for a few patches of wildflowers. Another fifty yards away were train tracks, which was an opportunity I couldn't miss. A few captures later, I was set to head back and see what else we might have missed along the creek. H. proceeded along the tracks, with an intention of taking the long way around. I wondered at the wisdom, but had nowhere else to be. Also, I had never walked along tracks like this before. As we walked along commenting on the railroad ties, I had the feeling we were in our own version of "Stand By Me."

Eventually, we came to a road...and the need for a decision. Which way to the car? Light was rapidly fading, and the appeal of retracing our steps back along the tracks and through the darkened park was fading with it. We opted to press forward through the neighborhood. Fifteen minutes later, we began to express to one another our concerns that the difficulty of finding the car in an unfamiliar neighborhood with no real idea of where we were in relation to it might be daunting. We pressed on.

Eventually, we discovered a familiar detail, a street sign with a name that we had seen before. Then another and another after. Confidence building, our anxiety about wondering the streets of north Austin throughout the night waned. We began to see the humor of two guys out for an evening stroll with three cameras, at least two of which appeared professional. A few turns later, we arrived back at the car. Was it only two hours since we'd last seen it and struck out across the open field?

A later examination within Google Earth revealed we were less than a quarter mile from the car (though probably not an accessible line) when we struck out along the tracks. In total, it was a two and a half mile hike back around.

Once back home, I downloaded everything I had taken to my computer for closer inspection. The real lesson is that I have much to learn. Of course, with adventures like this, there should be plenty of opportunity.