Pulpit Rock Cape Schanck for Sunday Best

 

It has been a long while since I last found myself here. These are a few frames gathered earlier in the year, moments I never quite managed to share until now. Returning to them feels a little like returning to the cliff’s edge itself—wind-washed, salt-stung, and alive with the ancient pulse of the coast.

Pulpit Rock at Cape Schanck rises where Bass Strait exhales against the Mornington Peninsula, its basalt columns forged from volcanic fire long before any eye beheld them. The land here was shaped by eruptions millions of years ago, when lava cooled into dark, rugged stone that now stands like an altar to the restless sea. Beneath it, the waters swirl in ceaseless ceremony, carving, smoothing, and reshaping the shoreline with patient force.

Walking the boardwalk and tracing the steps down toward the rock, you feel the story of the headland underfoot—its long geological memory, its storms, its calm blue intervals, its steady endurance. These images carry traces of that place: the raw grandeur, the deep time etched into every cliff face, and the way the horizon always seems to pull a little farther into the unknown.

Perhaps that’s why I return, even after long absences. The land remembers, and the sea keeps speaking.

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4 G

Linking Sunday Best