Anyone who has talked to me over the last month or two knows that I've just purchased a GoPro camera. I've certainly agonized over the decision. And, as a result, so too have my friends who have had to listen to me do so. Yup, I talked about the Gopros and Gocons a lot.
A GoPro (with accessories) is relatively expensive and a bit of a luxury for me -- there are a lot of other good uses I could have put that money to. In the end, however, the purchase won out. You see I'm hoping to add video to my repertoire and this seemed to be the easiest way do that. You can hardly call yourself an outdoors writer these days, if you can't shoot photos or video. Writing is actually starting to take a back seat to these things. So, in order to avoid feeling like a dinosaur, I side-stepped the tar pit, and gave in. Time will tell if that was a good move. Maybe, I just stepped into something worse.
The idea, however, is to acquire a few of those nice underwater fish photos and take my Gopro to places I'd never take my other cameras. More than that, I'm dreaming of finding those images we always forget to shoot. The look on an angler's face when his wader boot breaks the water's surface, the squint that occurs when tying on a tiny fly, the raising of the rod, the untangling of a leader, the laughter that follows the hook up - these little cameras, worn in perpetual readiness, are ideal for capturing those sharp fragile, shards of angling time. And, of course, there is the video.
What fascinates me about these cameras is the amount of technology packed into a tiny box. I used to be amazed at how far we've come with this. Now I'm more consumed by thoughts of how crude these gadgets will look in 10 years.
What is our technology evolving towards? Who knows? All I know is I'm headed there with video camera strapped on and fly rod in hand.
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