Pearses Bay Blairgowrie For Treasure Tuesday

 

While Joel remained absorbed in his phone for the greater part of our venture, I busied myself with the more patient art of observation. Along the curve of the bay, I lingered with my camera, experimenting with various lengths of exposure, seeking to capture the secret motion of water and light.

The tide moved in soft eddies, curling like pale silk across the sand, and the wind traced fleeting patterns upon the surface. Each long exposure revealed another rhythm — the sea breathing in slow, translucent whirls, the rocks standing still as time itself slipped past in silver veils.

I found a quiet pleasure in these swirls, these transient forms that vanished even as they appeared. In them lay something of the eternal — the ceaseless conversation between sea and shore, between motion and stillness, between the human heart and the timeless patience of nature.

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4 G

Linking Treasure Tuesday

Lake Boga town silo art mural for Mural Monday

 

I often pass through Lake Boga on my monthly journeys to Swan Hill. The town’s name, often misheard as “Lake Bogan,” belies its gentle charm — a small holiday township set beside a broad, tranquil lake where families gather for boating and water-skiing.

The lake itself, though now a haven for leisure, bears a deeper history. For countless generations it was home to the Wemba-Wemba people, whose connection to its waters long preceded European arrival. Major Thomas Mitchell recorded the lake in 1836, noting the Aboriginal encampments that dotted its shores. A brief Moravian mission followed in the 1850s, an early but short-lived attempt at settlement. With the coming of the railway in 1890, the township flourished as an agricultural district, its fields and dairies nourished by the lake’s waters.

During the Second World War, Lake Boga gained national significance as a secret Royal Australian Air Force base, where Catalina flying boats were repaired and maintained — a vital, if understated, contribution to Australia’s war effort. This proud history now finds renewed expression in a striking new mural by Tim Bowtell, painted upon the town’s grain silos. His work portrays the Catalina aircraft and its commanding officer, George “Scotty” Allan, bathed in the golden light of a Mallee sunset.

Thus Lake Boga endures — a place where the quiet rhythm of rural life mingles with echoes of ancient habitation and wartime service, its still waters mirroring both the passage of history and the enduring artistry of those who call it home.

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4 G

Linking Mural Monday

Pearses Bay Blairgowrie for Sunday Best

 

This photograph was taken a week ago at Pearses Bay. Joel, somewhat absent-minded and preoccupied with his phone, seemed scarcely aware of the hour, while I managed to capture this seascape of swirling tides and foaming whirls. It marks my third visit to this striking stretch of coast.

Pearses Bay, lying along the southern rim of the Mornington Peninsula near Blairgowrie, is shaped by the restless breath of Bass Strait. Over millennia, waves have carved its sandstone and limestone cliffs into sculptural terraces, their pale strata revealing an ancient marine history when this land lay beneath a shallow sea. The shore’s reefs and rock pools glisten with seaweed and abalone shells, while the rhythmic surge of the tide traces nature’s ceaseless dialogue between land and water — a landscape both serene and elemental.

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4 G

Linking Sunday Best

Mudskipper found in Taiwan East Coast for Saturday Critter

 

For some time now, I have been drawing upon images from my archives. This particular photograph features a mudskipper, which I encountered along the east coast of Taiwan—an especially fascinating discovery at the time. Mudskippers are extraordinary amphibious fish, noted for their ability to live both in water and on land. Commonly found in intertidal zones, mangrove swamps, and muddy riverbanks, they employ their muscular pectoral fins to “walk” across surfaces. Their prominent, elevated eyes provide a wide field of vision above the water, while their capacity to breathe through both gills and skin enables them to flourish in the dynamic environments where sea and land converge.

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4 G

Linking Saturday Critter

Pearses Bay Blairgowrie for Water H2O Thursday

 

Last weekend, Joel and I made a quick visit to Pearses Bay near Blairgowrie. The bay remains remarkably untouched and little visited, a quiet stretch of coastline where rugged limestone cliffs frame the ocean and narrow pathways lead down to the sand. The sound of waves breaking against the rocks echoes through the coves, and on a calm day the water takes on a striking clarity, with hues of turquoise blending into the deep blue of Bass Strait. It is the kind of place where one feels both secluded and restored, far from the busier beaches nearby.

On returning, I found myself once again immersed in a heavy workload. My professional commitments have increased significantly over the past month, which has made me reflect on how quickly circumstances can shift. Not long ago, I was contemplating the idea of semi-retirement. In some ways, the widespread acceptance of telehealth by those living in regional areas has reshaped the practice of medicine—sometimes into a model that can feel reduced to what one might easily search for online. To add to the challenge, I have also endured a series of flu infections contracted from the nursing homes I visit.

Sony A7RV

FE 16mm f1.8 G

Linking Water H2O Thursday

Butterfly signs in De Graves St Melbourne for Signs 2

 

These sculptural artworks—three-dimensional signs, one might term them—once adorned a window near Degraves Street, a corner of Melbourne where I am often drawn to practise my candid street photography. Though now removed, I long admired their playful presence, which lent character and charm to the laneway’s ever-changing canvas. Their absence recalls another fleeting installation: the celebrated butterfly display in Centre Place, where hundreds of delicate forms once hovered in mid-air, transforming the narrow arcade into a living allegory of lightness and renewal. That display, too, has since been taken down, yet it remains in memory as part of Melbourne’s tradition of ephemeral art—urban adornments that flourish for a season, enchant passers-by, and then vanish, leaving behind only recollections woven into the fabric of the city.

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4 G

Linking Signs2

Hosier Lane Mural Melbourne for Mural Monday

 

For a brief span of time, a mural appeared upon the walls of Hosier Lane, its authorship unknown to me. Remarkably, it remained unmarked by graffiti or the careless hand of tagging. The work bore a comical air: it depicted an office worker suspended upside down, his tie caught and twisted about a pole, as though the trappings of his profession had ensnared him in an absurd fate

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4 G

Linking Mural Monday

No 16 Beach, Rye for Skywatch Friday

 

Upon the evening of my visit to Number Sixteen Beach at Rye, the heavens lay utterly cloudless, and the setting sun cast its mellow radiance across the waters. Though this stretch of coast is among the most frequented along the Mornington Peninsula, fortune granted me solitude; not a soul was present to disturb the tranquillity. The waves, breaking upon the sand with unhurried constancy, left a delicate froth in the foreground, a lacework of the sea that I found singularly pleasing.

Number Sixteen Beach, so named after the original trackway once marked by numbered posts guiding visitors through the dunes, has long held a reputation both for its rugged beauty and its perilous seas. Unlike the sheltered bay beaches of Rye, this ocean front faces the Bass Strait, and its powerful surf has made it a place admired by walkers and naturalists rather than a safe haven for swimmers. The limestone cliffs and rock platforms that frame the beach bear silent testimony to the restless shaping hand of wind and tide through countless ages. In former times, the local Bunurong people knew these coasts intimately, gathering shellfish from the rock shelves and reading in the land and waters the signs of season and story.

Thus, standing alone at sunset, with the waves whispering their endless song, one is not merely a solitary observer of beauty but also a quiet inheritor of a long continuum of human presence, reverence, and memory upon this shore.

Sony A7RV

FE 14mm f1.8 GM

Linking Skywatch Friday

Bridgewater Bay Sunset on the cliff for Water H2O Thursday

 

Standing upon the sand cliffs of Bridgewater Bay at Blairgowrie, one is immediately struck by the deceptive stillness of the landscape. The cliff edge on which I stood was, in truth, precariously poised above a cavern hollowed out over centuries by the ceaseless force of wind and tide. Beneath my feet lay a deep cave, its roof eroded and thinned to a fragile crust that may collapse at any moment. My companion, Joel, wisely urged me to step back, reminding me that the grandeur of the view is often matched by the peril of the elements that have shaped it.

These overhanging caves are a signature feature of the Mornington Peninsula’s rugged coastline. Formed by the relentless pounding of Bass Strait waves against the friable sandstone, they represent both the transience and endurance of natural architecture. Over time, the softer layers of rock are worn away, leaving behind dramatic vaults and caverns beneath seemingly solid ground. Such formations are not uncommon in this part of Blairgowrie, where the interplay of geology and oceanic power has carved out a coastline as beautiful as it is dangerous.

The sand cliffs themselves bear witness to an ancient story. Much of the Peninsula’s coastal geology is composed of calcarenite, a form of dune limestone laid down during the last Ice Age when sea levels were lower and winds piled sand into vast dunes. In subsequent millennia, these dunes hardened into stone, only to be gnawed once more by the restless sea. Thus, what today appears as a sheer and formidable cliff is in fact a fragile palimpsest of natural history, its fate determined by the invisible pressures at work beneath the surface.

On this occasion, I carried my newly acquired FE 16mm f1.8 GM lens. Yet the wide angle, though technically perfect, seemed inadequate to capture the sense of awe and danger embodied in those cliffs. For no lens, however fine, can wholly convey the vertiginous impression of standing on ground that trembles with impermanence, overlooking caverns sculpted by time and tide.

Sony A7RV

FE 16mm f1.8 GM

Linking Water H2O Thursday

Taipei Signs for Sign2

 

There is this wall mural in various post offices in Taipei I like the designs.

I spot English sign in Taipei Street in an old building 

These old street looks used to be something i despise. Now I actually like how they look authentically

Linking Sign2

Byaduk Cave Silo Art, Budj Bim for Mural Monday

 

Last year, whilst engaged in employment near Warrnambool Hospital, I took the opportunity upon a quiet weekend to journey into the surrounding districts in search of fresh air and a measure of repose. My travels carried me towards the charming township of Byaduk, a settlement of modest size yet notable for its enduring ties to the land and its recent contributions to the celebrated movement of Australian silo art.

The silos of Byaduk, once plain and utilitarian structures of rural industry, now stand transformed into monumental canvases that honour both the natural world and the heritage of the region. Painted under the hand of contemporary artists, they breathe new life into these sentinels of the wheat trade, which in earlier decades symbolised the prosperity of Victorian farming communities. Today they form part of the larger Australian Silo Art Trail, a cultural endeavour that has swept across the nation, turning the functional relics of agriculture into enduring public galleries beneath the open sky.

In beholding these works at Byaduk, one perceives not merely colour upon concrete but the meeting of past and present—an echo of toil upon the land now reimagined as a celebration of beauty and memory, binding the township more deeply to both its own history and the broader story of rural Victoria.

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4 G

Linking Mural Monday

Fungus in Mount Macedon for Sunday Best

 

Another weekend has been marred by inclement weather. Joel and I sought our customary refuge at the Japanese bar, where the comfort of warm sake provided some consolation. Indeed, I intend to replenish my supply of sake regardless.

What follows is one from my collection of macro studies of fungi, taken upon the slopes of Mount Macedon. The mountain, with its cool and shaded gullies, provides an ideal environment for such delicate growths, whose minute forms reveal unexpected intricacies when examined closely.

For those who journey from the eastern fringes of Melbourne, the approach to Mount Macedon is a gentle transition from suburban streets into pastoral scenery. One may take the Eastern Freeway, continuing westward until it joins the CityLink or Tullamarine Freeway. From there, the Calder Freeway leads north-west through undulating countryside, with fields and woodlands unfolding in succession. After approximately an hour’s drive, the great massif of Mount Macedon rises ahead, its slopes cloaked in towering eucalypts and, in the cooler months, veiled in mist. The road winds upwards from Macedon township, affording ever-widening views of the surrounding plains until one arrives at the forested heights where nature’s more secret marvels—such as the fungi I photographed—lie hidden beneath the canopy.

Sony A7RV

Sigma 105mm f2.8 Macro

Linking Sunday Best

Portsea Beach, Mornington Peninsula for Skywatch Friday

 

This steadfast rock has ever been my compass for long exposures, a sentinel against the shifting tides and the passing of seasons. Last weekend the heavens conspired with storm and rain, and so I turned from the unruly present to the stillness of my archives, where calmer skies and gentler seas remain preserved.

Portsea Beach itself is a place where time and tide weave their eternal dance. The cliffs and outcrops, born of sandstone and limestone laid down in forgotten oceans, stand weathered yet unyielding, their faces etched by centuries of wind and wave. Each stone bears the script of ages, each ripple of sand a fleeting verse upon the vast poem of the shore.

Here the sea gathers its strength, for the Southern Ocean presses against the narrow Heads, surging into Port Phillip Bay with a restless spirit. The waters may gleam like glass beneath a quiet dawn, yet within them lies the memory of tempests, of ships dashed and lives claimed. Beneath it all, the Bunurong people once walked these sands with reverence, their footsteps bound to the rhythm of tide and season, reading the coast as one might a sacred text.

To stand upon Portsea Beach is to linger at the threshold of worlds—the ancient and the present, the serene and the perilous. It is a place where nature holds dominion, and where the solitary rock, enduring amid the breakers, becomes not merely a subject for the lens but a symbol of patience, memory, and the silent grandeur of the sea.

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4 G

Linking Skywatch Friday

Bridgewater Bay Blairgowrie for Water H2O Thursday

 

Both Joel and I longed to breathe the briny air and hear again the timeless voice of the sea. A fortnight past, we made our way once more to the cliff-tops overlooking Bridgewater Bay at Blairgowrie, drawn by the desire to attempt long-exposure photography in a place yet untried. Though the conditions were far from perfect, the novelty of the location, with its rugged beauty and the promise of new discovery, gave the venture a certain poetry of its own. Joel, ever patient, came to collect me from my home, but through my own misjudgment—having earlier taken my mother to supper—I delayed him by forty minutes. That tardiness weighed heavily upon me, for I felt I had stolen time from both him and the sea itself.

Bridgewater Bay, where we stood, is no ordinary shoreline. It is a place where the restless waters of Bass Strait carve their legend into limestone cliffs and sandstone shelves, where tidal pools mirror the heavens and the wind carries whispers of ancient times. Once a hunting and gathering ground for the Boonwurrung people, who knew the rhythms of these shores long before our cameras sought to capture their moods, it later became part of the maritime frontier of the Mornington Peninsula. The bay has borne witness to shipwrecks and storms, and its eroded rock formations—arched, honeycombed, and sculpted by centuries—stand as natural monuments to endurance.

Thus, as Joel and I set up our tripods against the evening light, I could not help but feel that our own small pursuit of a perfect image was but a fleeting gesture in the vast theatre of time. The bay, with its layered history of people, tides, and stone, seemed to forgive my lateness, reminding me that all human haste dissolves before the patience of the ocean

Sony A7RV

FE 16mm f1.8 G

Linking Water H2O Thursday

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

Fitzroy Murals in Melbourne for Monday Mural

 

I am not sure whom drew these murals. A little punk and sassy. 

Last weekend, we did not venture a coast again. The weather turned sour and high tide at the sea. So we just visited a cafe instead. 

Sony A7RV

FE 35mm f1.4 GM

Lining Mural Monday

Fungus wonder in Lake Sanitarium for Sunday Best

 

After a fortnight of steady work free from on-call duties, I find that my sleep pattern is at last restored. I have also resumed the habit of reading the news and attending to various hobbies. Advancing age has made me realise that I can no longer endure the unrelenting burden of round-the-clock shifts.

This particular mushroom is frequently found at Lake Sanitarium, Mount Macedon. The gentle rear green bokeh it affords is a quality I hold in highest esteem—though, amusingly, it is the very aspect that Joel most dislikes.

Sony A7RV

Sigma 105mm f2.8 Macro

Linking Sunday Best

Flinders Blowhole Beach in Mornington Peninsula for Sky Watch Friday

 

This stretch of beach was where I often wandered in search of crabs hiding in the rock pools, timing my steps just before the sun began to sink low over the horizon. The tide left behind pockets of still water that mirrored the sky and, most strikingly, the cave nearby whose reflection shimmered with the changing light. It was a fleeting but beautiful moment, where the ordinary act of looking into shallow puddles revealed both life and landscape in harmony.

The cave and blowhole are part of the rugged coastline at Flinders, on the southern edge of the Mornington Peninsula, about an hour and a half from Melbourne. The region tells a story that stretches back millions of years, when volcanic activity left behind the dark basalt cliffs that now meet the sea. Over time, the powerful swells of the Bass Strait relentlessly carved into these rocks, hollowing out sea caves and forming the blowhole that today draws both visitors and locals. The air there often carries the salt spray of crashing waves, and on windy days the ocean surges with a force that reminds you of its timeless authority.

Flinders itself has long been appreciated for its natural beauty, with its cliffs, rock shelves, and tide pools offering endless opportunities for exploration. Beyond its geology, the area is steeped in human history too: the coastline was known and traversed by the Bunurong people, who relied on its waters for food and held deep connections to its land and sea. Later, it was named after the navigator Matthew Flinders, who charted much of Australia’s southern coast in the early 1800s.

Standing at the blowhole today, watching the sun lower across the horizon and catching glimpses of crabs in the pools, I felt the convergence of many timelines. The fleeting moment of a reflection in water was layered atop a landscape shaped by fire and ocean, and upon traditions that stretch back thousands of years. In that sense, the Flinders Blowhole is not only a place of natural drama but also one of quiet continuity, where the vastness of history meets the intimacy of memory.

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4 G

Linking Skywatch Friday

Travancore Water Hole reflection for Water H2O Thursday

 

In the 1990s, these sculptural sticks were erected as part of an effort to position Melbourne as a more artistic and culturally expressive city. I still recall the press at the time describing them in unflattering terms, with some critics dismissing them as eyesores or likening them to phallic symbols. I later learnt that the area was considered particularly well suited to black-and-white photography, which prompted Joel and me to visit for a walk. As it happened, the rain had lingered in the precinct, leaving reflective surfaces that added depth and character to the sculptures. It proved to be an enjoyable and memorable outing.

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4 G

Linking Water H2O Thursday

Infinity rooms Port Melbourne for Treassure Tuesday

 

Earlier this year, a considerable number of exhibitions were devoted to the presentation of so-called “infinity rooms,” a form of immersive installation art that captured much popular attention. These exhibitions became something of a cultural trend, attracting large audiences eager to experience the illusion of boundless space created through the ingenious use of mirrors, light, and repetition. Although they were widely discussed and much admired at the time, I did not record or present them here, and thus the phenomenon has remained unremarked upon in this account.

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4 G

Linking Treasure Tuesday