Some tools and pieces of gear are described as buy-it-for-life products.
You carefully choose something that suits your needs, maintain it properly, and continue using it for as long as possible. I find something beautiful in that approach to owning and using things.
At the other end of the spectrum is disposable gear, designed to be used once or for a relatively short period and then replaced.
These two approaches represent opposite ends of a scale based on how long we keep and use something.
At first glance, my own approach to gear seems to fall somewhere between them.
I choose equipment that suits my purposes as closely as possible. When the occasion demands it, I use its capabilities fully, without being overly concerned about wear. Afterward, I maintain it and prepare it for the next opportunity. When something better suited to my needs becomes available, I change my A-team lineup.
Underlying this approach are two ways of thinking about what it means to take good care of gear.
One is to preserve the equipment itself for as long as possible. The other is to value the activities that the equipment makes possible.
For me, the second determines how I approach my gear. The first is an important way of supporting those activities over time.
When we look at equipment from the perspective of the person using it, another measure of value emerges—one that goes beyond how long the equipment lasts.
How reliably can this piece of gear help me accomplish what I want to do, under the conditions in which I will actually use it?
That is where my idea of good gear begins.
What Makes Gear Good Depends on Where and Why You Use It
The value of a particular tool changes with the conditions in which it is used.
This becomes especially apparent with equipment used at sea.
Gear gets wet with seawater, exposed to intense ultraviolet radiation, and battered by wind. It may be knocked against something or dropped aboard a moving boat. Sometimes it has to go back into a bag while still damp.
Yet every piece of equipment has a job to do under those conditions.
A camera must take photographs.
Clothing must protect the body from temperature, wind, ultraviolet radiation, and moisture while allowing the wearer to remain active and comfortable.
Footwear must protect the feet and support safe movement on a wet, unstable deck.
A wristwatch must provide the time when that information is needed.
The practical value of these things depends on how reliably they perform their intended functions under real operating conditions.
Imagine needing to cut something aboard a boat.
A folding knife that requires two hands to open becomes awkward when only one hand is available.
If only your left hand is free, scissors designed primarily for right-handed operation may also be difficult to use.
A tool that works beautifully on land may be much less suitable aboard a moving boat.
You may be wearing gloves. Your hands may be wet. The deck may be moving beneath your feet. It may be dark or windy. You may need to brace part of your body against the boat while performing a task with your free hand.
I evaluate gear with those conditions in mind.
If a tool can be made sufficiently effective through a different technique or greater familiarity, I learn how to use it.
If its physical design imposes limitations that substantially reduce safety or reliability, I move it to my B-team for that particular purpose.
When buying equipment, I look for the product that best suits my intended use among the available options.
That requires an ability to judge performance in relation to actual needs.
Price, overall technical performance, and suitability for a particular application are three different measures.
For example, a large camera with excellent imaging capabilities may be less practical aboard a boat than a smaller, lighter camera that is easier to handle.
My own skills and operating habits also influence which equipment works best.
Ultimately, what earns a piece of gear a place on my A-team is how well it suits my present purpose, in the place and conditions where I intend to use it.
Accepting Wear and Risk to Make Full Use of Gear
The more expensive a piece of equipment is, the stronger the temptation to keep it free from scratches and damage.
Yet using equipment inevitably causes wear.
Paint gets chipped. Moving parts wear down. Taking equipment into demanding environments increases the possibility of damage.
At sea, there is even the possibility of losing something overboard.
I accept these possibilities as part of using my gear.
With both my boat and my Toyota GR Yaris, a rally-inspired high-performance car, I want to make full use of their engineered capabilities under conditions where I can maintain safety.
The same applies to cameras.
If something I want to photograph is out in the rain or sea spray, I prepare the equipment for those conditions and take it there.
If I want a photograph from close to the water’s surface, I work out how to position and secure the camera.
My decisions follow a clear order of priorities.
Human safety comes first, followed by the safety of the boat or car. Once those conditions are satisfied, I weigh the possibility of damaging or losing equipment against the experience I hope to gain.
With my own equipment, I decide which risks I am willing to accept. When handling someone else’s property, I respect the owner’s standards.
If an experience is available only under particular conditions, and I can accept the associated risk to my equipment, I generally choose to use it.
This raises an important distinction:
Equipment can often be replaced. The opportunity to experience a particular moment may never return.
As long as an ordinary mass-produced product remains available, another example can generally be purchased.
The scene I encounter at sea, however, exists at a particular moment.
The opportunity to act or take a photograph under those exact conditions passes with time.
With a camera, the question is whether I can capture that moment.
With a car, it is what I can experience through driving it.
With a boat, it is where I can go and what parts of the world I can explore.
Part of the value of equipment lies in its ability to bring us closer to experiences that would otherwise remain beyond our reach.
I want to make full use of that potential.
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Maintenance Preserves Readiness and Deepens Understanding
Because I use my equipment extensively, I also devote time to maintaining it.
After using gear aboard my boat, I clean it according to its materials, construction, and the manufacturer’s instructions.
Equipment that can safely be rinsed with fresh water is rinsed to remove salt. Items suitable for immersion may be soaked when necessary. Electronic devices and equipment with waterproof seals receive maintenance appropriate to their specifications.
I apply suitable grease where needed and inspect O-rings and other sealing components.
I charge batteries appropriately, store equipment away from excessive moisture, and periodically check the operation of devices that require it.
There is a clear purpose behind this work.
I want my gear to perform properly the next time I need it.
Even equipment with excellent specifications is of little practical use if it fails to operate at the critical moment.
To turn technical capability into practical value, equipment must be kept ready for use.
For me, maintenance is fundamentally about preserving operational readiness.
But it serves another purpose as well.
Repeatedly handling and inspecting equipment deepens my understanding of it.
Which components tend to wear?
Where does salt accumulate?
Which controls require greater force?
Under what conditions does moisture begin to affect operation?
When is the equipment easy to handle, and when does it become awkward?
Through use and maintenance, I learn the characteristics and limitations of each piece of gear.
That knowledge helps me operate it more effectively. It also informs my decisions about which equipment belongs on my A-team and which should be moved to the B-team.
I use my gear, maintain it, and use it again.
Through this cycle, my familiarity with the equipment grows, and so does my ability to make effective use of its capabilities.
Why I Own Three OM-1 Cameras: Redundancy That Keeps Me Shooting
I own three OM SYSTEM OM-1 cameras.
I have explained the reason several times, yet some people still find it difficult to understand.
For me, the decision follows naturally from how I use cameras.
Among the interchangeable-lens cameras that meet my needs, I consider the OM-1 particularly suitable for taking into demanding environments.
It is a weather-sealed mirrorless camera, but using it aboard a moving boat still involves the possibility of damage or failure.
I might strike it against part of the boat. It might be exposed to seawater, fall from a height, or go overboard.
Seawater intrusion and physical impact require separate precautions, even with weather sealing.
I therefore take precautions against seawater exposure and accidental loss. Sometimes I attach a retrieval line.
When the boat’s condition, my footing, and secure body support allow it, I may lean over the side and lower the camera until it is only a short distance above the water.
There may be something worth photographing from that particular position.
Most of the photographs I take will never have a monetary value approaching the price of an OM-1.
Yet occasionally, almost by chance, I discover an image that I find extraordinarily satisfying.
Before pressing the shutter, I cannot know which moment might produce such a photograph.
That uncertainty is part of what makes photography so fascinating to me.
Expanding my opportunities to take photographs is closely connected to my reason for owning a camera in the first place.
There is another reason I own three OM-1 bodies.
I want a system that allows me to continue photographing even when an individual camera fails.
If OM-1 A is damaged, I can immediately put OM-1 B into service.
If B also develops a problem, I still have C.
Because they are identical models, their button layouts, menus, and handling characteristics are the same. I can also configure them with matching settings.
Switching cameras therefore requires very little adjustment. I can continue photographing using controls and procedures I already know.
One camera serves as a replacement if another fails. A third provides an additional backup if the replacement also becomes unavailable.
Owning three identical cameras gives me two backup camera bodies.
This goes a step beyond simply keeping a spare camera.
By owning multiple examples of the same tool, I build redundancy into the system as a whole.
The reliability of an individual camera and the continuity of my photographic activities are two different matters.
My objective is to expand my photographic opportunities, even in environments where equipment faces a greater risk of damage. Using identical cameras as interchangeable components is one way of supporting that objective.
This leads to a broader way of evaluating gear.
Beyond the performance and durability of individual products, we can also consider how reliably the entire system of equipment supports the activity we want to continue.
Gear Longevity and Fitness for Purpose Are Separate Considerations
Durability is an important quality in equipment.
Being able to use a good tool for many years has economic value, and long ownership often creates an emotional attachment.
At the same time, technology evolves. So do my purposes, abilities, and priorities.
Outdoor equipment and electronic devices, in particular, can improve substantially over ten or twenty years.
Clothing provides a good example.
Manufacturers continue developing products that combine waterproofing, breathability, low weight, insulation, quick drying, and stretch at increasingly high levels of performance.
Cameras also evolve through improvements in image stabilization, autofocus, sensors, weather sealing, batteries, and communication features.
Footwear benefits from advances in materials and sole construction.
Safety equipment changes as technology and operating conditions evolve.
As a result, a piece of gear I have used for many years may still work perfectly well, while a newer product may suit my present needs substantially better.
It may be lighter, safer, more water-resistant, easier to operate, or less tiring to use.
When a new product offers clear advantages for my purposes, I consider changing my A-team lineup.
Once again, the starting point is what I want to accomplish.
I choose the most suitable equipment from what I already own. When necessary, I purchase something better suited to the task.
I evaluate how long equipment can remain useful and how well it suits my current purpose as two separate considerations.
Gear that leaves my A-team can take several different paths.
If it remains sufficiently capable, I may keep it as a backup.
If I have grown particularly fond of it, I may display it at home as an object with personal meaning.
I may sell it to a dealer or give it to a friend who wants it.
Ordinary mass-produced equipment has the advantage of replaceability. While a product remains available, I can generally purchase another example.
My three OM-1 cameras are one way of taking advantage of that characteristic.
Equipment with historical, cultural, or collectible significance may have additional value attached to the individual object itself. Preserving such an item can be worthwhile for reasons beyond its immediate utility.
The value of gear also depends on the nature of the object.
Over time, emotional attachment develops naturally.
Equipment that has accompanied me on voyages, mountain trips, and other experiences accumulates memories.
I feel that attachment too.
However, I consciously separate my affection for a particular piece of gear from the decision about what should accompany me on my next activity.
I can keep a much-loved piece of equipment while choosing something newer and better suited to the next task.
This distinction gives me greater freedom in how I use and manage my gear.
Choosing suitable equipment, keeping it ready for use, and replacing it when circumstances change are all ways of supporting the activities I want to continue.
What Lies Between “Buy It for Life” and Disposable Gear
I go fishing in the Pacific Ocean.
I sail with the wind and take my powerboat out to sea.
I drive my GR Yaris on racing circuits.
I enjoy exploring the world from above with a drone.
Sometimes I land on an empty beach and make myself a cup of coffee.
With SUP foiling, I challenge myself close to the limits of my physical abilities.
Each of these activities calls for different equipment.
Some gear protects my body. Some helps me move. Some provides information, records what I experience, or enables me to perform a task.
Some serves as a replacement when something else fails.
And some takes me into places and experiences that my body alone could never reach.
Looking back at all this, I realize that what I seek from equipment goes beyond the specifications and durability of individual products.
I choose gear that suits the place and purpose for which I intend to use it.
When the opportunity comes, I make full use of its capabilities.
Afterward, I maintain it so that it will be ready to work again.
Through that process, I learn more about the equipment and improve my ability to use it.
When uninterrupted activity matters, I prepare alternatives in case something fails.
And as my purposes, abilities, and available technology change, I revise my A-team lineup.
These are different actions, but they all serve the same underlying objective.
To make the activities that gear enables richer, more reliable, and easier to sustain over time.
There is value in maintaining a buy-it-for-life product and continuing to use it for many years.
There is also value in replacing equipment when its intended role has come to an end.
For me, how long a tool lasts is one factor in how well it supports the activity.
Some tools remain suitable for many years. Others eventually give way to something better suited to the task.
The care I give my equipment prepares me to use it confidently the next time an opportunity arises.
Replacing well-used gear can also allow me to continue the same activities under better conditions.
When one camera reaches the end of its useful life, I can take another camera out to sea.
When a pair of shoes wears out, I can put on a new pair and head toward the next destination.
Individual pieces of equipment come and go, while the activities they enable can continue.
The experiences gained along the way remain with me, shaping what I choose to do next.
That is where my approach to gear lies between “buy it for life” and disposable equipment.
Ultimately, good gear is equipment that reliably supports what I want to do, under the conditions in which I want to do it.
And what qualifies as good gear changes as my purposes, abilities, and technology evolve.
Through the tools I use, I expand what I am capable of doing.
That is why I choose, use, maintain, and eventually replace my gear.
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