In salmon run season, the beach near my house is lined with fisherman plucking dinner from Puget Sound.

On August 4th, I flew to Salt Lake City to attend the Outdoor Retailer trade show. After three days of walking around the convention center, I was more than ready to be outside. In my friend’s borrowed car, I drove the wrong way and ended up at Saltair, where I turned off on to the freeway access road. I stopped frequently to look, to fiddle with the camera.  After finding the way north again, I continued to Antelope Island State Park. I shot a handful of pictures of the cracked asphalt, the dry sage, the blue, blue sky. I had a fully charged camera and a backpack full of snacks. The park was hot and uncrowded, it smelled of dust and heat and salt. There were buffalo resting in the grass like discarded shag carpets, the air was checkerboard with swallows.  I was alone. It was a great afternoon.

My pal B. joined me for a Very Long Walk around the neighborhood. I took some pictures with my fixed 50, a lens that makes you work hard to get good pictures. And we stopped for snacks.

My camera took a fall about two weeks ago; I blame poltergeists as no one was in the room when it happened. As a result, the lens barrel was tweaked and the lens became stuck. I had to have my camera disassembled, the lens rebuilt, and many dollars later, I have the same camera. It’s okay, I guess, it was cheaper than buying a new one.

Today, I took the ferry to Vashon Island for a meeting. I was glad to have my camera back.