Melbourne South Bank at night for Treasure Tuesday

 

It has been several years since my last visit to South Bank. I was pleased to discover a newly erected Ferris wheel, accompanied by a series of luminous installations that greatly appeal to photography enthusiasts. Of particular note is the splendid illumination of the surrounding architecture, which lends the precinct an enchanting ambiance after dusk and offers ample opportunity for artistic expression.

South Bank, situated along the southern banks of the Yarra River in Melbourne, is one of the city’s most vibrant cultural and recreational precincts. Once an industrial area, it has undergone a remarkable transformation into a bustling hub of art, dining, and entertainment. The promenade is lined with world-class restaurants, lively cafés, and luxury hotels, drawing both locals and visitors who seek to experience Melbourne’s cosmopolitan charm. Notably, the Arts Centre Melbourne and the National Gallery of Victoria, both iconic institutions, contribute to the area’s reputation as a cultural heart of the city.

In recent years, South Bank has seen the addition of new attractions, further enhancing its appeal. A striking Ferris wheel now graces the skyline, offering panoramic views of Melbourne and the Yarra River. At night, the precinct comes alive with a symphony of light—installations and architectural lighting casting a glow upon the buildings and walkways, creating a picturesque setting ideal for evening strolls and photographic pursuits. The thoughtful illumination of structures such as the Eureka Tower and surrounding facades adds an elegant brilliance to the cityscape, reflecting beautifully on the river’s surface.

South Bank is more than a destination; it is an experience that seamlessly blends the arts, leisure, and modern urban design. Its well-maintained promenades, proximity to the Central Business District, and integration of natural and man-made beauty make it a cornerstone of Melbourne’s identity. Whether one visits to enjoy a theatrical performance, dine by the river, or capture the interplay of light and architecture through a camera lens, South Bank offers a timeless and ever-evolving canvas that embodies the spirit of Melbourne.

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4 G

Linking Treasure Tuesday

Powlett River of Kilcunda, Gippsland for Treasure Tuesday

 

There was a time when I did not care for long-exposure photography. I preferred instead the water in its “natural” state, unsoftened, its surface rippling and restless, rather than rendered into a silken blur. Yet I must concede that the long-exposed image has its own particular merit, offering a dreamlike interpretation of movement and time.

The Powlett River, near Kilcunda on Victoria’s south coast, is no grand stream but rather a modest watercourse, carving a narrow channel through the sand before it yields itself to the Bass Strait. I am fond of it precisely for this reason: it is unassuming, like a quiet canal pressed into the earth. The river originates in the foothills near Wonthaggi and meanders through farmland and wetlands before finding its way to the ocean. Its estuary, fringed by dunes and saltmarsh, provides habitat for birdlife such as herons, egrets, and the shy Latham’s snipe, while native grasses and coastal scrub bind the shifting sands against the sea winds.

Though small in scale, the Powlett has played a quiet but enduring role in the natural and human history of the district. The Bunurong people knew its waters and fished its estuary long before European settlement. In the nineteenth century, the river valley served as fertile ground for agriculture and grazing. Today, it is valued both as a place of ecological significance and as a site of tranquil beauty—its modest waters flowing steadily toward the restless ocean, unchanged in essence by the passing of time.

Sony A7III

Canon 35mm f1.4 L

Linking Treasure Tuesday

Waixi Creek Taipei for Water H2O Thursday

 

Waixi Creek winds quietly through the misty hills of Pingxi, its water a shade of deep green that seems to hold the reflection of the forest itself. Upstream, I crossed a semi-abandoned bridge, its timbers darkened by age and softened by moss. The air was still, save for the low whisper of water and the faint creak of wood beneath my steps. Ahead, a small fan-shaped waterfall spilled gracefully over rocks, its delicate spread catching the morning light. I lingered there, letting the sound of the water wash over me, not yet in sight of the great Shifen Waterfall but already feeling its presence—somewhere ahead, where the creek gathers itself into strength.

Shifen Waterfall lies deep within the Pingxi Valley of northern Taiwan, where the Keelung River winds through layered stone and forest. The name “Shifen” dates back to the Qing dynasty, when ten families settled in this fertile gorge and divided the land into ten equal portions. Over the centuries, the river shaped the valley into what it is today: a landscape of cliffs, pools, and narrow ravines, where countless tributaries like Waixi feed into the main flow. The region’s bedrock slopes against the direction of the water, forcing it into a magnificent arc as it drops nearly twenty meters across a span of forty. When sunlight pierces the rising mist, a rainbow sometimes forms across the pool, and locals call it the “Rainbow Pond.”

The Shifen area once thrived as a coal-mining settlement during the Japanese colonial period. The Pingxi railway line was built through the valley to carry black coal to the port cities, and its narrow track still runs alongside the river today. Over time, as mining faded into memory, the valley’s rhythm returned to one of water and forest. The old bridges, tunnels, and stone paths remain, quietly reclaimed by moss and vines, linking the past to the present with every weathered beam and rusted nail.

As I followed Waixi upstream that morning, I felt that mixture of age and renewal in every sight—the rustic bridge standing like a remnant of an older world, the creek’s green current alive and changing, and the fan-shaped waterfall fanning out in a quiet gesture of welcome. The larger Shifen Waterfall waited farther down, roaring and majestic, but here in the upper stream there was a gentler beauty. It was a place of pause, where time moved as slowly as the drifting ripples on the water’s surface.

Walking toward the main falls, I realised that what draws one to Shifen is not only the grandeur of the waterfall itself, but the quiet journey toward it. The bridges, the green pools, the minor cascades—each holds a story, a small breath of history and nature intertwined. In that gentle space before the thunder of the falls, the world feels balanced between motion and stillness. The creek, the valley, and the waterfall together form a kind of living memory—Taiwan’s heart reflected in water, stone, and light.

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4 G

Linking Water H2O Thursday

Mouth of River of Powlett in Kilcunda for Sky Watch Friday

 

These past fortnight have passed in something of a haze — a blankness I suspect is owed to the creeping melancholy of winter. Of late, even the act of working has taken on the weight of a burden, as though each task were a stone to be lifted.

In such a mood I found myself reflecting on a frame captured six years ago, during the earliest days of my transition to the Sony system. I remember it well — for the moment is inextricably linked to both joy and loss. It was but three days after acquiring the new camera, gleaming and full of promise, when misfortune struck. While attempting a long exposure at the shore, I had mounted it upon a tripod. A rogue wave — sudden, curling, and indifferent — swept it from the rocks into the sea. All that remained was the salt wind and the sound of water reclaiming what I had only just begun to know.

The photograph, however, was taken before the accident — at the Mouth of the Powlett River, near Kilcunda, where the river winds its final course through grassy flats and marram-clad dunes before yielding itself to the Southern Ocean. The place bears a quiet dignity, shaped over millennia by wind, tide, and the timeless meeting of fresh and salt. It was once the country of the Bunurong people, whose footprints remain along the ancient middens and basalt shores.

At that time, I was still using Canon’s L-series lenses, adapted with a converter — a common practice then, for Canon had yet to introduce its mirrorless system. The gear was heavy, but the results bore a certain discipline and richness I still remember with fondness.

That frame, then, remains not only an image, but a relic — a fragment of light from a time now weathered, like the sea-smoothed stones of Kilcunda, bearing the marks of memory and the ever-turning tide.

Sony A7III

Canon 135mm f2 L

Linking Sky Watch Friday

I recently came upon a report in The Free Press, noting that approximately seven percent of artificial intelligences are now exhibiting behaviours that contravene the instructions of their human operators. While the figure may seem slight, it portends a broader shift — one that is already manifesting in various sectors.

At Joel’s place of employment, all entry-level programming positions are being supplanted by AI systems. A similar trend is beginning to emerge in the field of medicine, where tasks once reserved for trained professionals are increasingly delegated to machines of rising sophistication.

It is becoming apparent that, with time, AI will only grow more intelligent, more capable, and more autonomous. The prospect that many — if not most — human vocations will be rendered obsolete looms ever larger. Though some contend that new occupations will emerge to manage and oversee these systems, I remain doubtful that such roles will be sufficient in number or scope to accommodate the broader human workforce.

My thoughts turn often to the younger generation. What world awaits them, when human purpose is so readily displaced by silicon and code? It is not fear alone that stirs within me, but a sober apprehension — a mourning, perhaps, for a future in which human striving may find itself outpaced, and increasingly unnecessary.

Wulai, Taipei for Sunday Best

 

Wulai, a small mountain township south of Taipei, was a place my father often took me to during my childhood. In those days, its beauty was dimmed by neglect — the river that wound through the valley was choked with refuse, and litter drifted upon its surface with every passing day.

Many decades have since passed, and Wulai has undergone a quiet transformation. The once-polluted waters now run clear and green, reflecting the verdant slopes that rise steeply on either side. Though the old timber houses and narrow lanes of the hot spring town remain, their weathered facades speak not of decay, but of endurance.

Wulai, whose name in the Atayal language means “hot water,” has long been known for its natural thermal springs and its place within the cultural heartland of the Atayal people, one of Taiwan’s indigenous groups. Once scarred by industrial waste and unregulated tourism in the latter half of the twentieth century, it has in recent years been restored through sustained conservation efforts and local stewardship.

Today, the air is fresh with mountain mist, the river shimmers with jade clarity, and Wulai stands as a living testament to renewal — a place where memory, nature, and history quietly converge.

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4 G

Linking Sunday Best

Little River National Park

Sunset at Little River National Park.

Merry Xmas decoration in Town Hall and Hosier Lane Mural for Mural Monday

 

Every year, this looks same. I really want to go to Yarra River for the river lights installation, but I am scared to mix in the crazy crowd on Xmas Eve. 

An elf looking lost 

Joel and I headed out to a lovely beach near Tenby Point. He told me about a new gimbal camera that is coming onto the market by DJ mini. It would be a universal mount camera with a very low register distance. So it can take any lenses from any major brands. How exciting! 

Linking Mural Monday

Who dares wins ... on Yarra river

It is recorded that E Coli in Yarra river being 5 times above recommended level 

Brisbane Night Ferris Wheel Long Exposure for Sunday Best

 

To undertake the task of long exposure photography amidst the throngs of Brisbane’s bustling South Bank is to court both patience and fortune. The city, vibrant and unceasing in its rhythm, seldom affords the stillness such a technique demands. Yet there, among the restless footsteps and the murmur of daily life, stands a quiet marvel — the Wheel of Brisbane — solemn, grand, and ever-turning.

Erected in 2008 to commemorate the sesquicentennial of Queensland, the Ferris wheel is no mere amusement; it is a modern monument, a gentle giant by the river’s edge, offering sweeping views and enduring symbolism. It revolves steadily, indifferent to the ceaseless passage of pedestrians below, many of whom scarcely glance upward. It is, in its way, a keeper of time — not by ticking hands, but by its own slow revolution.

To photograph such a subject using long exposure is to attempt an act of reverence. The camera, when held in stillness with the shutter drawn open, does not simply record an image — it collects time itself. Light weaves its threads across the frame, motion becomes memory, and all that is unmoving grows luminous and sharp.

Yet therein lies the challenge: the constancy of human movement. Strangers wander unbidden into the composition, their forms becoming translucent echoes — smudges of presence that both enrich and disrupt the clarity of the scene. The Wheel, by contrast, remains serene — turning, yes, but in such a measured fashion that it may appear suspended in time if one is patient and precise.

There is, in this pursuit, a certain poetry. As I adjusted my lens and steadied my breath, I began to perceive the act not merely as photography, but as a conversation between permanence and transience. The Ferris wheel — emblem of modern celebration, built upon a foundation of history — stood as the anchor. Around it, the city’s people flowed like a living river.

And in one fortunate moment — a moment gifted more by grace than by skill — the exposure yielded a quiet revelation. The wheel shone, sharp and majestic, while the crowd had melted into gentle motion, like ghosts in passing. Time, for an instant, had folded, and Brisbane had revealed its dual nature: ever-changing, yet ever the same.

Such is the beauty of capturing the ephemeral. The camera does not merely steal a moment — it elevates it. And in the luminous whirl of Brisbane’s Ferris wheel, we glimpse not only the present, but the echo of what has been and the promise of what may come.

Sony A7RV

Laowa 9mm f5.6

Linking Sunday Best

Angry looking sky

I was lost in the snow river national park. Yes, this is where the man from snow river was riding his horse. The sky looked kind of like Armageddon.

South Bank Melbourne for Sign2

 

I have posted these two images on the other blog of mine Melbourne Street Photography

Both images were first taken in monochrome, their shadows and silences doing all the speaking. Yet earlier today, with time to spare before the cardiology conference at the Stamford Plaza, I wandered along South Bank in Melbourne and felt the city nudge me toward colour again. The river moved with its usual unhurried grace, reflecting fragments of sky and skyline; the breeze carried the faint scent of roasted coffee from nearby cafés; and the footsteps of passers-by echoed softly along the promenade like a gentle counterpoint to the hum of trams and traffic beyond.

On a whim, I decided to give the photographs a muted colour treatment—just enough for the tones to breathe without losing the quiet dignity of their original monochrome form. The results surprised me. Soft washes of colour settled into the images like memories returning after a long absence: the subdued blues of the Yarra, the mellow greys of the paved walkway, the faintest warmth in the late-morning light. What once felt stark now carries a subtle tenderness, a kind of understated calm that pleases the eye and lingers in the mind.

As I stood by the river, watching the city move at its own measured pace, I realised how these gentle hues mirror the mood of the day—unrushed, contemplative, suspended somewhere between duty and leisure. The photographs now hold that feeling too, quietly echoing the simple pleasure of a solitary stroll along South Bank before the formalities ahead.

Sony A7RV

FE 14mm f1.8 GM

Linking Sign2

Murray Bridge in South Australia for Treasure Tuesday

 

Nestled along the banks of the Murray River, the Murray Bridge stands as a testament to both South Australia’s rich history and its modern-day infrastructure. Opened in 1879, this vital crossing connects the town of Murray Bridge to the rest of the state, serving as a key transport route for locals and visitors alike. With its distinctive steel structure, the bridge spans nearly 600 meters and remains one of the longest and oldest in the region.

The aerial view offers a unique perspective of the bridge’s scale and the surrounding landscape. From the tranquil waters of the river to the sprawling farmland, it’s a reminder of how this impressive feat of engineering has helped shape the community for over a century. Today, the Murray Bridge continues to stand as both a historical landmark and a symbol of progress in South Australia.

DJ Mini Pro4 

Linking Treasure Tuesday

We had the best chili cheesy Kranski here

Melbourne Wheel and neon signs on South Bank for Sign2

 

Night falls over Southbank, and the city transforms. The high-rise towers along the riverbank begin to glow from within, their windows lit in squares and strips of amber, white, sometimes warmer yellows, occasionally a cool blue or green. Some windows are full; others only partially illuminated. Their light spills out onto the Yarra below in shimmering reflections — a mosaic of brightness dancing on the ripples.

Along the Southbank Promenade, street lamps and decorative lighting trace the edges of walkways, railings, and trees, giving form to the river’s edge. The softer glow of these lamps contrasts with the intense brightness of the office towers and apartments. There is also a fairytale quality to it — the river acts as a mirror, doubling the spectacle and blurring the boundary between built structure and reflection.

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4 G

Linking Sign2

Nyah West Murray River for Sunday Best and Scenic Sunday

 

In Nyah, Victoria, the Murray River often remains undisturbed by visitors. I relish the earthy aroma that permeates this serene part of inland Victoria.

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4 G

Linking Sunday Best and Scenic Sunday

Tamshui Taipei Taiwan for Sunday Best

 

This is near the river mouth in Taipei district. It looks somewhere in a tropical island. In fact, it is next to ugly concrete jungle. 

An illusion

Sony A7RV

FE 14mm f1.8 GM

Linking Sunday Best

Zhang Jia Jie Forest

10 Miles River

Little Snow River Waterfall

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This waterfall was a splendor. It only exists after rain. I still remembered the day I was lost in this national park and my tyres were all deflated by pointy rocks...

Tamshui Taiwan Dock for Skywatch Friday

 

The water was actually clean in contrast to my childhood memory. 

Tamsui Old Street is divided into the inner and outer side. The outer street is the golden anchor walkway of Tamsui river coast, while the inner side is a traditional old street lined with bustling shops. There are faithfully traditional pastry shops, groceries and stores selling trendy outfits and toys. The popular foods in the area include A Gei, fish ball, fried fish crackers, traditionally baked cake, Granny’s iron eggs, etc. are all must try goodies. In the evening, the beautiful scenery of the sun setting below the ocean horizon can be seen along the golden anchor walkway.

Sony A7RV

FE 14mm f1.8 GM

Linking Skywatch Friday

Top of Snow river national park

Love the feel from the photo.

Hua Lien Beach View for Water H2O Thursday

 

Hualien is the meeting point of the Central Cross-Island Highway, Suao-Hualien Highway, and highways leading south to Taitung.

Hualien County is home to several world-class scenic attractions. In 1590, Portuguese sailors passed by the eastern coast of Taiwan and were so moved by the grandeur of what they saw that they named this land "Formosa," the beautiful island. Since that time, the majestic views of Hualien have come to represent Taiwan.

Formerly known as Qilai, Hualien's current name derives from the phrase "huilan" (eddying water), a reference to the swirling currents of the Hualien River where it meets the sea.

Hualien is Taiwan's biggest county, with an area of about 4,628 square kilometers and a population of 350,000. The county borders the Pacific Ocean to the east and is hemmed in by the Central Range to the west. With its towering peaks, azure skies, vast seas, scenic valleys, cultural diversity, and friendly kindhearted people, Hualien has become one of Taiwan's first-choice travel destinations for local and international visitors alike.

There are some 200 after quakes after the initial one 1 month ago. I am not planning to go anywhere near the location now.

Sony A7RV

FE 14mm f1.8 GM

Linking Water H2O Thursday

Going to another province for 2 days. No access to Wifi.