When driving along the dusty Southern Flinders road into Hammond, it’s clear that it was once an important town along the formerly vital narrow-gauge rail line that fed so many settlements in the area. Whilst not completely abandoned, another decade or two may see Hammond left to the relentless heat and wind.

I was drawn, of course, to the dilapidated ruins up the road, marking the dusty way to more ghost towns beyond. Yet another reminder that nothing is everlasting.

The E1 proved a great companion here, even on a bright sunny day. As long as I looked after the exposure compensation carefully, so as not to blow out highlights too heavily, I was rewarded with at least half a dozen photos the equal of my Nikon Z5 in all but overall size and resolution. Still, as discussed before, megapixel counts are often overrated.

If I have the stamina, I also pack my Z5 alongside the E1, but the bag then does tend to drag at the shoulder a little. Fortunately, such long drives into the mid-north necessitate lengthy car rides, thus allowing my shoulder to rest between destinations. As ever, my concern is for a solid shoulder-slung camera bag that allows me to pack enough gear for a comfortable day – hopefully as inexpensively as possible whilst still retaining usability and build quality. My current bag cost all of $60 AUD and allows me to pack both the Nikon Z5 and the Olympus E1, though other features are lacking, including a strap that isn’t adjustable.

The E1 still surprises me. For a camera from 2003, with limited dynamic range, it can certainly handle enough tonal range to produce some of the most attractive photos in my folders. Sure, a good subject helps a lot, but the E1 seems a good match for scenes I would have thought it would struggle with. Perhaps I’ve gelled with it to the point that I’m looking for scenes with more mid-tones and less gap between light and shadows, as this is where it shines best.

Well worth the drive, if you can stand the dust and the gnawing sense of a town that has all but been forgotten. I love it, of course – the sense of melancholy is always a stern reminder of time’s vengeful movement. One interesting feature of our time there: a resident playing modern pop music loudly from inside the old town bank, drifting on the same winds scouring the bones of the empty buildings.