John Dracon
John Dracon
I'm sure to step on some toes with this topic. In various threads comments are made about looking into the objective ends of binoculars and seeing (horrors) bits and pieces of tiny debris stuck or floating around. Or the worst possible scenario, suspected fungus.
At one time I was not immune to this kind of adolescent hysteria. In fact it took me a long time to grow up. Consider this letter written to the Zeiss repair people 22 years ago when I was 58. I would say this was prolonged adolescence at best.
The letter began after the Dear Sir, "Please inspect the left barrel of my 10x40 binoculars for some sort of "gunk" which shows in the field at 10:00 o'clock. This is the second time these binoculars have been sent to you folks at Zeiss..." My letter then went on to state that I owned a number of Zeiss binoculars, blah, blah, blah, as if this had any thing to do with any thing except to tell Zeiss I was an esteemed customer. Is it any wonder that Zeiss reports a high turnover of repair folks each year?
This letter is not made up. I found it in my Zeiss archives the other day. I'm finally coming to grips, that when it comes to binocular information, I'm a hoarder, with clippings and brochures collected over the last 50 years. An article by Jack O'Connor on binoculars for the hunter. Top ten best binoculars made in 1948. What's new in optics this year, etc., etc.
And for many years I obsessed knowing that a particular binocular of mine had some foreign bit of whatever floating around inside. It was only obvious when on the focal plane, which wasn't often. Something big enough to be on a prism seemed to show up in the field. But anything else really bothered me.
I believe I was suffering from what I call the Mallory complex. Unless you are British, or a mountain climber, but not a millennial, the name Mallory may be meaningful. George Mallory was a famous mountain climber in the early 1920s, who disappeared in 1924 attempting to be the first man to climb Mount Everest. His body was discovered in 2013, thoroughly desiccated at around 27,000 feet.
When questioned by the curious newspaper reporters of his day as to what motivated him to climb Everest, Mallory famously replied, "Because it is there."
Think, now. How many of you posters out there in Bird Forum land, while peering into the objective end (many times with a flashlight), discover a tiny bit of something floating around inside? And how many of you start obsessing immediately with that knowledge, even though when looking through your binoculars nothing shows up except the gorgeous bird you have discovered? And how many of you depending on what you paid for your binocular have an immediate impulse to call the 911 of the maker? If you answer yes to any of these questions, you likely are suffering from the Mallory complex.
Is there a cure? Probably not. A ten or twelve step program to plunk yourself into? No. Instead take a deep breath and tell yourself, if I can't see it, then it isn't there. Or repeat what is now becoming a famous utterance of an American lady politician, "What difference does it make?"
A footnote on my Zeiss 10x40 binocular which survived two trips to Zeiss only to find the "gunk" had moved to another place. Out of frustration I smacked the guilty barrel with the heel of my hand, and guess what, it has never reappeared again.
John
At one time I was not immune to this kind of adolescent hysteria. In fact it took me a long time to grow up. Consider this letter written to the Zeiss repair people 22 years ago when I was 58. I would say this was prolonged adolescence at best.
The letter began after the Dear Sir, "Please inspect the left barrel of my 10x40 binoculars for some sort of "gunk" which shows in the field at 10:00 o'clock. This is the second time these binoculars have been sent to you folks at Zeiss..." My letter then went on to state that I owned a number of Zeiss binoculars, blah, blah, blah, as if this had any thing to do with any thing except to tell Zeiss I was an esteemed customer. Is it any wonder that Zeiss reports a high turnover of repair folks each year?
This letter is not made up. I found it in my Zeiss archives the other day. I'm finally coming to grips, that when it comes to binocular information, I'm a hoarder, with clippings and brochures collected over the last 50 years. An article by Jack O'Connor on binoculars for the hunter. Top ten best binoculars made in 1948. What's new in optics this year, etc., etc.
And for many years I obsessed knowing that a particular binocular of mine had some foreign bit of whatever floating around inside. It was only obvious when on the focal plane, which wasn't often. Something big enough to be on a prism seemed to show up in the field. But anything else really bothered me.
I believe I was suffering from what I call the Mallory complex. Unless you are British, or a mountain climber, but not a millennial, the name Mallory may be meaningful. George Mallory was a famous mountain climber in the early 1920s, who disappeared in 1924 attempting to be the first man to climb Mount Everest. His body was discovered in 2013, thoroughly desiccated at around 27,000 feet.
When questioned by the curious newspaper reporters of his day as to what motivated him to climb Everest, Mallory famously replied, "Because it is there."
Think, now. How many of you posters out there in Bird Forum land, while peering into the objective end (many times with a flashlight), discover a tiny bit of something floating around inside? And how many of you start obsessing immediately with that knowledge, even though when looking through your binoculars nothing shows up except the gorgeous bird you have discovered? And how many of you depending on what you paid for your binocular have an immediate impulse to call the 911 of the maker? If you answer yes to any of these questions, you likely are suffering from the Mallory complex.
Is there a cure? Probably not. A ten or twelve step program to plunk yourself into? No. Instead take a deep breath and tell yourself, if I can't see it, then it isn't there. Or repeat what is now becoming a famous utterance of an American lady politician, "What difference does it make?"
A footnote on my Zeiss 10x40 binocular which survived two trips to Zeiss only to find the "gunk" had moved to another place. Out of frustration I smacked the guilty barrel with the heel of my hand, and guess what, it has never reappeared again.
John
