Focus, Stack, Panic: A Photographer’s Recent Misadventures with the Nikon Z6III

I’ve always maintained that photography is 10% vision, 10% technique, and 80% troubleshooting. This past month has confirmed it.

It began with a classic case of Gear Acquisition Syndrome — otherwise known as “I’ve convinced myself I need a new lens”. After much internet research, chin-scratching and imaginary bank account maths, I landed on Nikon’s 180–600mm monster. A lens so long it practically comes with its own postcode. First came the inevitable dance: handheld or monopod? Gimbal or gamble? I tried everything from budget stabilisers to slightly-too-flimsy carbon sticks, before embracing the awkward ballet that is manual shutter and aperture with Auto ISO. Somehow, the images began to sing — once I stopped trying to control everything like a 1990s film snob.

Of course, every lens needs a workflow. And every workflow, it turns out, is a labyrinth. I’ve got Nikon’s NX Studio for RAW tweaking, ON1 for non-subscription editing freedom, and good ol’ Lightroom Classic, which I use mostly to get frustrated and swear at catalogue structures.

Then came the TIFF debacle.

I exported a file from NX Studio — profile embedded, box ticked, all proper. I opened it in Lightroom. No profile. Nothing. Just a flat, sulking TIFF with no intention of cooperating. I triple-checked the settings. I opened it in other apps. I exported again. Same result. At one point I genuinely thought my iPhone was meddling with files behind my back. Gaslighting, but with colour profiles. I nearly wrote a letter to Apple. Instead, I just grumbled and muttered “I miss film” into my tea.

Meanwhile, I found myself obsessing over focus and exposure stacking. “Let’s do a handheld pano,” I said cheerily, unaware of the ergonomic mayhem to follow. Holding the Z6III steady, mentally whispering “breathe out, rotate,” I attempted a scene that could’ve been stitched from dreams. Lightroom tried. ON1 tried harder. In the end, I had a half-stunning, half-melted panorama that looked like a Dali painting after three espressos.

All of this, of course, was interspersed with actual photography — remember that? I caught a few cracking waves on the Sunshine Coast, tested the autofocus on seabirds that were clearly mocking me, and even got up early enough one morning to catch the golden light doing its thing across the wet sand. These fleeting wins kept me going, like a gambler hitting the occasional jackpot on a very temperamental slot machine.

And yes, I’ve been blogging it all. No one is reading the blogs, mind you. Or they are, but they’re all shy and not hitting “like”. Maybe it’s a niche audience — people who enjoy reading about the slow unraveling of a photographer who insists on doing things “properly” in an age of AI-enhanced everything. Maybe that’s the charm. Maybe that’s the point.

So here we are. One camera, one brain, three editing programs, and one very stubborn photographer.

Until next time — keep stacking, keep swearing (quietly), and remember: it’s supposed to be fun.