My back surgery...

[OMyMyOHellYes]

It's a caver thing. Most can't relate. It's also a dark room thing. I was an avid B&W photographer throughout high school, and even had my own darkroom, as well as access to two professional darkrooms. We had ample red light when we were futzing with paper, but all handling of film was done in pitch darkness. Any stray light there, and your film was fogged. How I remember those smells. Now we have digital, so few will ever learn the process any more. That's probably a good thing.

I was running the photo efforts for my high school yearbook. As a senior, teaching the ins and outs of darkroom technique was really good experience with a particular sophomore girl.

Would hate to have missed out.

 

[The Chairman]

teaching the ins and outs

I'm sure you were.

 

[The Chairman]

We were told, as Boy Scouts, that we should be able to put our hands on anything in our backpacks with our eyes closed. The darkroom experience certainly gave me an edge with that. We even had a race to find out who could find the smallest flashlight. This was way before LED lights were mainstream, so a small 1 cell penlight was the best we could do. I became pretty comfortable moving around a dark campsite and was able to recall the layout from seeing it earlier. Again, that really helped when I began cave training. I remember in cavern class, my instructor had me close my eyes and I supposed to find the cave line. A slight turn to the right, a half frog kick, drop to the floor, and wouldn't you know it, my hand landed right on the line. My instructor wasn't having it, so he picked me up, spun me around, and wedged me into a corner. Yah, I still found it and it was great to exercise my problem-solving skills.

 

[Wookie]

I was running the photo efforts for my high school yearbook. As a senior, teaching the ins and outs of darkroom technique was really good experience with a particular sophomore girl.

Would hate to have missed out.

The darkroom was next to the teachers lounge. The darkroom had a deep sink, from which Mrs Wedgewood filled the coffee urn. Mrs Wedgewood barged in while Jennifer and I were “developing”. Mrs wedgewood backed out the door, but the moment was shattered. For all time, sadly, although Jen found me on Facebook not so long ago.

She stayed in Maine and had babies, exactly what I fled to avoid.