The tripod has become a bipod

One leg of the tripod stopped locking on Thursday. It did not make a dramatic noise or fall into a brook. It simply shortened itself, very politely, every time I put the camera on top. I tightened the little collar, tried again, and watched the horizon tilt.

This happened near the turning at Bracken Fold, where the path makes a pale curve through the old grass. I had wanted to keep the foreground stems sharp without making the distant trees too vague. Nothing especially ambitious. After a few attempts to persuade the leg to behave, I put the whole thing away and leaned against the gate instead.

The gate moved as well, of course. I ended up making the picture standing normally, waiting for a brighter patch of cloud so I could use a quicker exposure. The result is in the archive. It has a little less foreground than I first intended, and I think the path is clearer because of it. An expensive lesson from a cheap broken part.

Back at home I took the collar apart over a tea towel. There was a cracked ring inside, two washers, and enough fine sand to suggest I have been storing a very small beach in the bag. The pieces are now in a saucer while I work out whether the ring can be replaced. I have resisted the temptation to put them somewhere safe, which usually means losing them.

For the next few walks I will carry less and accept a few more blurred pictures. There are worse arrangements. The long way home felt noticeably shorter without three legs tapping against my shoulder, even if only two of them were any use.