Staying Safe When Shooting Images Outdoors

Matt Litton carried an aluminum tripod up and down mountains on a five-mile hike through Sequoia National Park. He used it like a loose hiking stick. In more than one situation, if I remember correctly, he had to set it aside so he could climb using both hands. The camera loose around his neck was surely a minor problem for him in tight situations.

Why I Chose the Topic

I want to say up front that I felt I had chosen an awkward topic, but it really picked me, rather than me picking it. I had gone online to try and prompt an idea for today’s blog post, and when I read the word “safety,” it leapt out at me. I’m the kind of guy who doesn’t worry about things when it comes to safety, but once I reflected a little on it’s relation to me, I realized enough has happened over the course of the past decade for me to serve as an example of what not to do in some situations.

What’s wrong in this photo? It’s March and Brian has no life preserver on. Wearing one, until May, has recently become law in New Jersey. Cameras are vulnerable, too, on canoes, kayaks, and boats.

Some Personal Examples of What Shouldn’t Happen

Let’s begin a decade ago during November. My son, Matt, had just hooked a leaping steelhead trout on a fly rod, and I got into New York’s Salmon River above my knees, following him downstream—as I viewed the action through the viewfinder of my Nikon D60. It would be no surprise that I tripped over a rock—and landed face-first into the water, struggling to hold my camera and Tokina lens above it. A feat I failed at doing.

After I had emptied the camera of water, and the lens best I could, and we had finished fishing, we put both items in dry rice, where they stayed for a week. The camera turned back on and worked. The lens had to be refurbished, which cost $265.00.

I don’t buy insurance for my cameras and lenses, though that can be done.

In 2016, I bought a Nikon D7100, which almost rolled into a pond my son and I fished for bass. I had set the open camera bag beside the water on a slope. It tipped over and avoided spilling into the water by an inch or two. You just don’t do stupid things like that, once you become alert to where you put your things.

In 2019, I bought a Nikon D850 full frame, which cost $3500.00 with tax. I tried to find a refurbished model, hoping to spend considerably less, but in January 2019, the D850 hadn’t been on the market a full two years, from what I understand.

A year later, my family traveled to Big Pine Key, Florida, where Matt’s mother and I paddled a two-person kayak. Naturally, I paddled with my D850 around my neck. When we finished a few hours later, we paddled the kayak into shore at a 45-degree angle. Trish tried to get out, when her knee gave, and she dropped back on the edge of the kayak, which turned it over, dumping me into salt water…while I struggled, unsuccessfully, at keeping my camera out of that water.

This time, the camera never worked again, badly corroded by brine. The lens, a Nikkor 50mm f/1.8 prime that costs about a hundred bucks, never worked again, either.

It’s a long story about my wife and her knee, but it’s my fault. She had surgery done on it, though it’s never been the same. So I made sure she didn’t blame herself for the loss of my camera and lens.

Big smallmouth bass I caught this past July from the Tippy Canoe. Brenden Kuprel shot it with my Nikon D7100.

Float Trips

I like to float the South Brach Raritan River in what I call the “Tippy Canoe.” It’s important to bring a good camera, so I bring my D7100. I did end up buying a refurbished D850 immediately after the Florida incident for $2300.00, but I don’t float rivers with that camera. And for the D7100, I find Zip-Lock bags are a way to safe keep a small camera bag with the camera inside it.

The other canoe I own is very stable and uses an electric motor. The important thing is to always have a full-sized black plastic trash bad inside the camera bag, in case of rain. I’ve been through a lot of rain with my D850 without a problem. Otherwise, always handle a camera consciously. If you have a friend photograph you with a fish, always have him put the strap around his neck. And then thank him for the shot.

Mount Moro on the left in Sequoia National Park. A camera backpack is a good idea, one with room for a few other possible items.

In the Mountains

Again, make sure you protect a camera against possible rain or even the condensation of heavy fog. If you’re day hiking, a camera backpack will probably have extra space for food items. You don’t necessarily have to carry all of your lenses. When I hiked Sequoia National Park, a five mile hike up and down mountains, I carried my 17 inch (length) camera bag with all the lenses I use for my D850. Aged 62, I really didn’t have a problem with it, as awkward as it admittedly is to carry.

Nowadays I don’t haul that bag around. I use a camera backpack, thanks to my son who gave it to me as a gift, and I probably don’t pack all the heavy lenses. When I’m on a boat or the big, stable canoe, I use the bag. Just pop open the top and the options are right there.

Using a hiking stick will relieve the stress of a long walk.

If you can find a good stick while hiking, it can relieve some of the stress of walking long distance. And if you do encounter fog like we did in Sequoia National Park, just make sure to stay on the trail, which is easy enough to do, though it could be very hard to find your way, if you get off it.

Crampon trails over ice a foot thick at Round Valley Recreation Area last February.

Ice

One more incident that befell me, now almost a year ago, though it seems like yesterday. I had been ice fishing Tilcon Lake in the New Jersey Highlands, the sun went down behind mountains, and I wanted to get a photograph of some rocks exposed above the ice, a little color at the horizon. I walked out toward the middle of the lake, the ice fully 10 inches thick, my D7100 around my neck. I got the photograph and began making my way back, when suddenly I slipped. With my right arm, I tried to prevent the camera’s hitting the ice, but not only did it hit the ice hard—I know now why people call the camera “the Beast”—my arm hit it hard, too. I suffered the pain of a sprain for more than a month. The camera? It’s no different than before it hit that ice.

It could have been worse. I’ve been wearing crampons ever since.