It was an Olympus 4000, aged by anyone's standards in 2008 but still getting those wonderful shots and as comfortable as an old T-shirt with frayed edges around the neck and a hole where the pocket is sewed onto the cotton fabric over the left breast pocket. And it had seen many adventures, been to all corners of the world - Honduras, Montserrat, South Africa, Thailand, Panama, the US and Belize, to name but a few. It had taken photos from atop volcanoes, while suspended by rope rappelling from cliffs large and small, while zipping across the treetops on canopy tours and on grueling hikes when it outlasted and outperformed tired ankles and knees. It had performed when shooting from the windows of planes at 30,000 feet and it had performed just as well 130 feet beneath the waves. It had taken thousands of underwater photos; photos that became fridge magnets and photos that entertain friends and family and photos that were so bad they never even made it off the media card. It's underwater housing was held together with rubber bands and glued-on parts, and was missing the lever that made it simple to click for the shot. But still, it continued on.
Until that fateful day in Zanzibar, on a deep wall at 130 feet depth, when a reef shark made a sudden appearance, exciting the otherwise serene divers. As divers will do, at once they swam deeper, following the shark and hoping it would turn and make another pass - allow a great photo opportunity. It was already tempting fate at 130 feet, 30 feet deeper than the housing was rated to go, but alas, it had been there before - many, many times. And then there was the 'POP' and then came the flood, and suddenly, the Olympus 4000, faithful friend, trusty companion and frequently the only dive buddy invited along, was no more.
But Africa is considered by many to be a birthplace, and perhaps it has earned a new life there, in Zanzibar, with the hotel worker who eyed it's swamped, rusty countena
0 comments:
Post a Comment