Balnarring Beach Cape Schanck for Sunday Best

 

Here are some more frames from Balnarring Beach, looking toward Cape Schanck, taken as the day eased into its last light. Joel appears again in the frame, a familiar figure against the widening horizon as I caught the sunset.

The tide had drawn back, leaving the flats exposed and reflective, a broad sheet of muted silver and bronze that carried the sky downward into the earth. To the south, Cape Schanck held its quiet authority, the dark outline of the headland and its cliffs marking the edge where Bass Strait begins to assert itself. This stretch of coast has always been a place of meeting: calm bay and restless ocean, soft sand giving way to ancient basalt shaped by wind and surge over thousands of years.

As the sun lowered, the light thinned and cooled, spreading long shadows across the beach. Joel’s presence anchored the scene, a human scale set against the immensity of sea and sky, momentary and transient in a landscape that measures time differently. The salt air, the distant sound of water moving over rock, and the slow extinguishing of colour combined into that brief, suspended stillness that belongs only to sunset on this part of the Mornington Peninsula.

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FE 20-70mm f4 G

Linking Sunday Best

Balnarring Beach Sunset for Skywatch Friday

 

Joel and I were at Balnarring Beach for the water—for that long exposure where the tide usually softens itself around the pylons. Instead, the bay had retreated to an extraordinary low, the lowest I have seen here, leaving the pylons fully exposed. They rose from the sand like a stripped framework of memory, their timber blackened and silvered by salt, their lower posts furred with barnacles and weed, each one carrying the slow record of tides, storms, and passing years. Without the water’s movement, their age was no longer hinted at but plainly stated.

The town itself felt profoundly asleep. Balnarring offered no spectacle, only a quiet so complete it seemed deliberate, as though sound had been thinned out by the same withdrawing tide. The beach widened into stillness, and the bay refused to perform, holding to a flat, patient calm.

Joel was beside me, though not within the frame. His earlier suggestion lingered—that one might one day retire to a place like this, where time loosens its grip and days are allowed to repeat without consequence. Standing there, with the pylons rooted and the water absent, the thought felt less like an idea and more like something the landscape itself had already decided.

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4 G

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Balnarring Beach Cape Schanck for Water H2O Thursday

 

We miscalculated the tide.
Balnarring Beach, which we had imagined brimful and reflective, met us instead in retreat, the sea drawn back into itself, exposing long bands of wet sand and the quiet ribs of the shore. The pylons we came to photograph at high tide stood more naked than expected, their purpose momentarily suspended between water and air.

In the distance is Joel. As always, he has rushed ahead, pulled forward by instinct or impatience, it is hard to say. Seen from afar, his figure becomes a measure rather than a subject, offering scale to the frame and reminding the eye how wide this coast really is. Against the vastness of the beach, a single human presence sharpens the sense of space and time.

Balnarring Beach has long been shaped by such rhythms of advance and withdrawal. For thousands of years, the Bunurong people knew this shoreline intimately, reading tides, winds, and seasons as living knowledge rather than variables to be checked. Later, European settlers arrived along Western Port’s fringes, drawn by fishing, grazing, and the promise of a gentler bay. The weathered pylons and scattered maritime remnants along this coast speak quietly of those eras: utilitarian structures built to serve trade, boats, and labour, now repurposed by photographers and walkers as anchors for memory.

Low tide reveals what is usually hidden. It flattens the drama but deepens the story, exposing textures, scars, and distances that high water conceals. Standing there, camera in hand, with Joel already ahead and the sea momentarily absent, the scene becomes less about the image we planned and more about the place asserting itself—patient, indifferent, and enduring, waiting for the tide to return.

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4 G

Linking Water H2O Thursday

Balnarring Jetty Mornington Peninsula for Water H2O Thurday

 

I have spent the past few days in a state of unrelenting toil, as if bound to some cruel taskmaster. The town in which I find myself—Mingham in New South Wales—is a place seemingly forsaken. There is no supermarket, no fast-food outlet, not even a solitary restaurant to offer relief. The unit I occupy is tainted with mould; dampness clings to the walls, and the bed linens, upon first touch, were sticky and sullied, as though long neglected. The local health service is scarcely better, staffed so poorly that it recalls the worst of neglected nursing homes. Fate, it seems, has played a bitter jest, offering hardship in abundance, comfort in none.

Yet, amidst this weariness, I have managed to compose a few posts, a small defiance against the exhaustion that presses upon me, before returning to endure the remainder of the shift.

In my mind, I often escape to a place long cherished: Balnarring Jetty, that weathered pier of Victoria. Its creaking boards, the gentle undulation of water beneath, the hush of the waves—these memories are a balm, a tender refuge far from the harshness of my present surroundings.

Mingham bears its own melancholy. Not long past, the town and its surrounds were consumed by floods of unprecedented fury. Torrential rains transformed roads into rivers, swallowing homes, and leaving streets marooned beneath waters swollen beyond memory. The river, once modest and tranquil, surged to heights unseen in a century, breaching its banks with merciless force. Entire neighborhoods were evacuated, bridges rendered impassable, and the land bore the scars of that relentless inundation for months thereafter.

In this place of lingering adversity, I find a strange resonance between the land and my own condition. Just as waters overflowed, unrestrained and unstoppable, so too has the neglect and hardship of this town broken through the fragile walls of my endurance. And yet, even amid such trials, the memory of Balnarring Jetty persists—a quiet, enduring symbol of stability and grace—reminding me that even in isolation and turmoil, beauty and calm can still be glimpsed.

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FE 20-70mm f4 

Linking Water H2O Thursday

Balnarring Jetty at Mornington Peninsula for Thursday H2O Thurdsay

 

I am presently undertaking a three-week placement in regional Victoria. The first week involves continuous 24/7 on-call duties, leaving little opportunity for personal time.

The photograph shared here was taken late last year. Joel and I had become quite captivated by the idea of capturing a particular perspective of an old jetty pylon. Though we never quite achieved the precise image we had envisioned, the final photograph possesses a distinct character of its own.

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FE 20-70mm f4 G

Linking Water H2O Thursday

Balnarring Beach, Mornington Peninsula for Skywatch Friday

 

In the first photograph, Joel is visible in the distance, intently focused on photographing seaweed along the shoreline. The air has grown markedly cooler, and the sky bears the pale, steely blue that signals the quiet approach of winter. It is in such moments that the necessity of reconnecting with the natural world becomes most apparent—calming, grounding, and essential to the soul.

Balnarring Beach, located on the Mornington Peninsula southeast of Melbourne, stretches along the calm waters of Western Port Bay. Its gentle crescent shape and serene outlook toward Phillip Island make it a place of both quiet retreat and natural charm. The area is known for its safe swimming waters, expansive foreshore reserves, and the peaceful rhythm of tidal life.

The name “Balnarring” is thought to originate from Indigenous words meaning “little” and “gumtree,” a poetic nod to the native landscape. European settlement began in earnest in the 1840s when pastoral stations were established, and by the latter half of the 19th century, Balnarring had grown to include a post office, a school, and a church. The arrival of the railway in the early 20th century further connected the township with surrounding areas, allowing more visitors to discover its coastal beauty.

Balnarring Beach—once also known as Tulum Beach—has long held a quiet reputation as a haven for holidaymakers and nature lovers. In more recent times, it was honoured as one of Australia's cleanest beaches, a testament to the community's stewardship and respect for the land.

Even as seasons shift and the cold edges in, Balnarring Beach remains a place of stillness and reflection—a coastal landscape where history, nature, and memory meet in tranquil harmony.

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4 G

Linking Skywatch Friday

The past fortnight has been exceedingly busy for me. Despite the considerable amount of work I have undertaken, the returns have felt rather meagre. Joel and I have been diligently studying investments in the Japanese stock market, prompted by Warren Buffett’s decision to reallocate his wealth into Japanese equities.

Balnarring Jetty for Skywatch Friday

 

This picturesque spot is perfect for anyone looking to connect with nature, breathe in fresh sea air, and soak up the tranquil vibes.

During sunrise and sunset, the jetty transforms into a canvas of breathtaking colors, reflected beautifully on the calm waters below. It's a haven for photographers, artists, and anyone who appreciates the simple beauty of nature. The jetty is also a fantastic spot for fishing enthusiasts, offering a peaceful setting to cast a line and potentially catch a variety of local fish.

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FE 20-70mm f4 G

Linking Skywatch Friday

Balnarring Beach in Mornington Peninsula for Treasure Tuesday

 

It is not monsoon, but it always rains heavily in April and May around here. This shot was rather interesting from 2 weeks ago. The water flow motion is fun.

Joel and I are just busy playing PlayStation instead. 

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70-200mm f4 G

Linking Treasure Tuesday

Balnarring Beach Jetty in Mornington Peninsula for Treasure Tuesday

 

Joel and I came back here on Easter Saturday. Again, I did not get the look I want but it gave me another opportunity to try it again.

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FE 70-200mm f4 G

Linking Treasure Tuesday

Old jetty remains on Balnarring Beach for Water H2O Thursday

 A different take on the jetty in Balnarring Beach. 

I will need to come back at full peak tide. 

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FE 20-70mm f4 G

Linking Water H2O Thursday

Balnarring Beach for Treasure Tuesday

 

It was a high tide on the weekend. So there were only a few locations worth visiting.

I did not get the look I want. There will be more practices in the future. 

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4 G

Linking Treasure Tuesday

Currently working for a locum job. So, I can pay the forthcoming holidays. 

Balnarring Beach Mornington Peninsula for Water H2O Thursday

 

On the day, Joel and I were supposed to visit the abandoned submarine in Hastings. It turned out the wreckage was already removed! It was so upsetting. So we moved quickly to this nearby beach before sunset took place.

Sony A7RV 

FE 20-70mm f4

Linking Water H2O Thursday