On my last sailing trip, I had my Canon SD750 point-and-shoot camera safely stored below deck, where I thought it would be safe from rolling waves and splashing water. But in a twist of fate, in which the irony is not lost on me, the camera was siting right next to an inappropriately capped bottle of water. This bottle of water, and not a drop from the Pacific Ocean all around us, was the culprit of what I thought was the end of my camera. I remember looking at the drench screen, now flashing completely white, and the equally drenched battery and memory card.
The short burst of disappointment ended when I realized how far, how great and for how long that camera had served me — much longer that I had ever hoped. It went skiing with me, lived on a boat, it traveled to several countries and islands; it attended gatherings at seedy bars and lame restaurants.
So for several months I lived my life almost photo-free. My other camera, my DSLR, is a beastly thing, rather inconvenient carrying around on a daily basis, or on a hike.
Then last weekend, I went snowboarding with a group of friends, and some other events happened that made me go “I really wish I had my little camera.” It prompted me to look for a replacement. If it had been up to me, I would’ve bought the very same model, but Canon doesn’t seem to make them anymore. I did some research, compared prices, and I was getting ready to walk out the door when it occurred to me to take my old camera, the dead one, with me. And for no reason at all, I turned it on.
Apparently, it just needed to dry out a bit.
And with the excitement of seeing something quite literally come back to life, I headed over to Piestewa Peak here in Phoenix to do some hiking and take some photos. In an act of more inspiring loyalty and duty than I could have ever wished, my SD750 has returned from the grave, to serve me well for what I hope will be far far longer, and during many more adventures.