Melville Boulder Rocks for Black and White Community

 

Boulder Rocks in Melville, Victoria, is one of those special places that quietly captures your imagination. It is a much-loved camping destination among the regional communities of north-western Victoria, yet somehow remains relatively undiscovered by visitors from further afield. There is a certain charm in finding somewhere so beautiful without the crowds, where nature is allowed to speak for itself.

I have a considerable photographic archive from this part of the world, particularly from the COVID lockdown years. While Melbourne and other metropolitan areas were subject to strict travel restrictions, those limitations had not yet extended to many rural communities, allowing me to explore and photograph some of these remarkable places. I spent quite a bit of time wandering around this area, although much of that photographic collection has remained tucked away in my archives, never making its way onto the blog.

Looking back, I realise just how much I enjoyed returning here with my camera. The rugged boulders, the surrounding natural landscape and the quiet atmosphere offered endless opportunities to explore different compositions and perspectives. For a photographer, there is something deeply rewarding about a place like this. It does not need grand attractions or elaborate scenery to impress; sometimes, the beauty lies simply in the textures of the rocks, the play of light and shadow, and the sense of solitude that comes with being surrounded by nature.

Perhaps it is time to revisit some of those forgotten photographs and give this wonderful corner of Victoria the attention it deserves.

Sony A7RV

FE 16-35mm f2.8 GM

Linking Black and White Community

Pinnacles in Cape Woolamai Phillip Island for Water H2O Thursday

 

The Pinnacles at Cape Woolamai remain one of those special places that landscape photographers find difficult to resist. Set along the rugged coastline of Phillip Island, this remarkable stretch of shoreline is known for its dramatic granite formations, towering boulders and the restless waters of Bass Strait. Over countless years, the relentless force of wind and waves has sculpted the rocks into striking natural formations, creating a landscape that feels both ancient and untamed.

Joel and I are hoping to return there soon, this time to put our new cameras through their paces. It should be an exciting opportunity to explore the coastline again, experiment with different perspectives and capture the powerful interaction between rock and water. The high-velocity waves crashing against the enormous boulders are particularly captivating, especially when the sea throws up great plumes of white spray against the darker granite.

Of course, getting to the best vantage points is never quite as effortless as it might appear in photographs. The walking trails around Cape Woolamai involve some fairly demanding trekking, with uneven terrain, sandy paths and exposed sections along the headlands. Add two camera bodies, a collection of lenses, tripods, filters and all the other photographic essentials, and the hike becomes a rather serious undertaking.

Still, there is something wonderfully rewarding about carrying all that equipment into a place like this. The prospect of witnessing the ocean's raw energy, finding an interesting composition and waiting for that fleeting moment when the waves collide perfectly with the rocks makes the effort worthwhile. Sometimes the journey is as much a part of the photographic adventure as the final image itself.

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4 G

Linking Water H2O Thursday

Webb & Co ghostly sign in Bendigo for Sign2

 

Tom's weekly Sign2 event has unexpectedly given me a new photographic project to pursue. I find myself looking at the streets around me a little differently now, searching for remnants of another era: faded shopfront lettering, heritage advertisements, forgotten business names and ghost signs quietly surviving on old brick walls.

This old Webb & Co. ghost sign in Bendigo is exactly the sort of thing I have in mind. Dating back to the nineteenth century, Webb & Co. was associated with Bendigo's once-thriving milling industry. Its flour mill, established in 1878, was reportedly capable of producing thousands of sacks of flour a day. What was once a place of industry and commerce has since found a new life, while traces of its former identity remain on the walls.

There is something rather poetic about these weathered letters. Once painted to attract customers and announce a business to the passing crowds, they now linger long after the original owners and customers have disappeared. They have become accidental historical markers, preserved by time rather than design.

Perhaps this is what makes the project so appealing. I am not simply photographing old signs, but collecting little fragments of lives, businesses and streets that might otherwise slip quietly out of memory. A new pastime, perhaps, but one with plenty of history hiding in plain sight.

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4 G

Linking Sign2

Birthday Wagu dinner with Joel for Treasure Tuesday

 

Joel remembered my birthday and surprised me with an extravagant Wagyu feast, prepared by a Japanese chef licensed in Kobe and brought all the way from Japan. It was certainly an indulgence, and not the sort of dining experience that comes cheaply!

Naturally, Joel found another excuse to take my camera and play with the 16mm lens, perhaps a little preview of what he might be tempted to buy during the upcoming Black Friday sales. After I had finished photographing him, he promptly turned the tables and began taking portraits of me instead. A little photographic revenge, I suppose, for all those occasions when I have happily made him the subject of my camera.

Somehow, between the fine food, the photography and our usual teasing, it became a rather memorable birthday celebration.

Sony A7RV

FE 16mm f1.8 G

Linking Treasure Tuesday

Hosier Lane Mural for Mural Monday

 

I no longer venture out as often in search of murals, so a leisurely walk around here was perhaps the easiest way to find something worth photographing. There was, unfortunately, plenty of rubbish scattered about, the rather unromantic by-product of what I can only describe as government-driven cultural enrichment through graffiti.

Then I came across this rather unusual piece. At first glance, it reminded me of a L'Oréal cosmetics advertisement, as though a beauty campaign had somehow found its way onto a wall already layered with graffiti. Now that was certainly a first! A curious collision of street art and commercial beauty, and quite an unexpected find on an otherwise ordinary walk.

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4 G

Linking Mural Monday

HMAS Mornington Wreckage for Sunday Best

 

The former HMAS Otama, an Oberon-class submarine, spent many years anchored off Crib Point on the Mornington Peninsula. Commissioned into the Royal Australian Navy in 1978, she served during the final decades of the Cold War, including intelligence-gathering operations. She was decommissioned in December 2000, and a local community association later acquired her with the ambitious dream of turning her into a floating maritime museum. Sadly, years of financial difficulties, planning obstacles and exposure to the elements eventually brought that dream to an end. In September 2022, she was taken away for dismantling and recycling.

I took this photograph about six months before her removal. Captured with an ultra-long exposure, the water takes on an almost ethereal quality, its movement dissolving into a soft, seamless veil. The muted colours and gentle atmosphere are much closer to the photographic style I have gravitated towards in recent years.

Some might argue that removing the movement from the water also takes away its character, the restless energy that gives a seascape its life. Yet there was a time when I absolutely loved this approach to photography, patiently allowing the sea to become something almost otherworldly through long exposures.

Funny how our tastes evolve. Looking back, I can still appreciate the beauty of this style, but the passion that once drew me towards it seems to have quietly faded. Perhaps photography, like life itself, is a journey through different phases. What once captivated us may eventually give way to something else.

Sony A7RV

FE 16-35mm f2.8 GM

Linking Sunday Best

Tyabb Air Show for Skywatch Friday

 

Tyabb used to host its airshow every two years, bringing the excitement of roaring engines and aerial displays to our part of town. Yet, after so many visits, the spectacle has gradually lost some of its magic. The aircraft seem familiar, the performances much the same, and the sense of novelty has slowly faded. Even Joel, a devoted aviation enthusiast, has suggested that I give it a miss next time. In his view, the admission price is becoming harder to justify when there is so little that feels new or different.

Meanwhile, my faithful camera is now showing signs of exhaustion. I have already reset its shutter count three times after reaching its maximum limit each time. Perhaps that says more about my photographic obsession than anything else. Since the COVID years, I must have put an extraordinary number of clicks through its shutter. A camera has a finite lifespan, after all, but mine has certainly been given a rather demanding one. I suppose I am a hopeless shutter addict.

Now, rather than rushing out to replace it, I am patiently waiting for the next generation in the same camera series. The anticipation is almost as exciting as the prospect of finally getting my hands on it. Until then, I shall keep coaxing a few more frames out of this ageing companion.

Sony A7RV

FE 200-600mm f5.6 - 6.3

Linking Skywatch Friday

No 16 Beach Rye for Water H2O Thursday

 

Joel and I had ventured out to Rye Beach with the Dragon’s Head in mind, hoping to capture this rather intriguing rock formation from the water. But the sea had its own agenda that evening. The tide was coming in, and before long, we could no longer find a steady footing for our tripods in the shallows. Dragon’s Head sits some 150 metres offshore, and the currents around this stretch of coastline are not to be taken lightly. One can easily underestimate the power of the ocean, particularly when the water begins to pull away beneath your feet. Sometimes, knowing when to call it a day is just as important as getting the shot.

There is Joel on the right, happily immersed in his own little world, chasing the last golden moments of the sunset through his camera. I, on the other hand, found myself captivated by something quite different. The delicate ripples across the water, the fading light and Joel’s solitary silhouette seemed to come together in a way I had not quite anticipated.

Perhaps it is the simplicity that appeals to me most. No grand landscape, no spectacular burst of colour, just a quiet interplay of light, water and shadow. There is a certain poetry in these fleeting moments, when an ordinary scene takes on a life of its own. I rather like how this one turned out. A little fine art, a little nostalgia, and a small memory of another evening spent chasing photographs with Joel.

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4 G

Linking Water H2O Thursday

Flinders Station Floor Sign for Sign2

 

The grand, vaulted arches of Flinders Street Station look down upon a familiar choreography of defiance, where the urban rhythm moves to its own persistent beat. On the stone floor below, a fresh sigil has been pressed into the concourse—a clean, modern decree explicitly banning the swift glide of bicycles, the sharp click of skateboards, and the low hum of scooters. Yet, as the winter dampness lifts into spring, the rule exists only as a silent suggestion beneath the feet of the crowd. All around, the wheels still spin, carving unauthorized lines through the sea of commuters while the official mandate sits motionless on the asphalt. It is the classic paradox of the modern metropolis: a continuous accumulation of legislations met with an absolute vacuum of enforcement. In the absence of an authority to anchor the law, the new sign becomes just another piece of urban background noise—a well-intentioned monument ignored by the very momentum of the city moving past it.

Sony A7RV

FE 16mm f1.8 G

Linking Sign2

Lake Sanitarium Mount Macedon for Treasure Tuesday

 

When May arrives with its quiet chill, the annual expedition draws us back to the deep, secluded cradle of Lake Sanitarium at Mount Macedon. This is our ritual ground, a place where Joel and I return year after year to pay a silent, lasting homage to the wilderness and the hidden wonders it guards. Beneath the damp leaf litter, the vibrant, otherworldly blue of the pixie parasol mushrooms awaits our discovery, tiny monuments of life thriving in the decay of the forest floor.

Every few seasons, the landscape shifts, and we find ourselves stepping directly into a thick, low-hanging mist. The air grows heavy, charged with a dark, evocative weight as if the very atmosphere is teeming with a negative energy, pulling ancient ghosts out from the shadows of the trees. The water itself seems to breathe, steaming continuously like a vast, hidden furnace beneath the lake bed, sending white plumes swirling into the cold air as if a colossal bamboo steamer of dim sum were being heated from the depths below. It is a haunting, heavy theater of nature—a snapshot of isolation where the beautiful and the eerie fuse completely into one.

Sony A7RV

Sigma 105mm f2.8 Macro

Linking Treasure Tuesday

Hosier Lane Mural for Mural Monday

 

The alleyways of Melbourne whisper a rougher, darker tune today, where the boundary between public art and raw graffiti has blurred into a historical low. Once a sanctuary for grand, sweeping murals, Hosier Lane now wears a fragmented skin, a dense collage of tags and rapid spray where structure struggles to break through the noise. Yet, in this shadow-drenched alcove, a distinct piece holds the wall, pinned against a deep, arresting background of pitch black that anchors the visual chaos. Above the sharp, fractured lettering, an enigmatic figurehead peers out—a stylized helmet flanked by crossed cutlasses under the banner of a distant city, framed by wide, weeping eyes that drip crimson tears onto the stone. It has been six months since these feet last tracked through the city’s concrete arteries, long enough for the landscape to shift, harden, and reclaim its renegade edges. The streets outside carry a tense, unpredictable current, punctuated by the frequent rumble of violent protests that disrupt the urban rhythm. But the pull of the street walk remains absolute. Camera in hand, the lens catches this fleeting monument of the underground—a stark, defiant snapshot of a city forever writing, erasing, and rewriting itself in real time.

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4 G

Linking Mural Monday

Balnarring Jetty wave motion for Sunday Best

 

I mentioned recently that I had taken around 200 shots at Balnarring Jetty. As with any photographic adventure, some frames turned out to be little jackpots, capturing that fleeting magic I had hoped for, while others simply missed the mark. Such is the nature of photography. Sometimes the light, the timing and the composition come together beautifully; at other times, the moment slips quietly through our fingers.

Going through those images again, I found a few more worth sharing. Perhaps it is time to dust off some of those forgotten frames and let them see the light of day, especially after my recent sabbatical from photography as a hobby. There is something rather comforting about revisiting old photographs. You begin to see them differently, with fresh eyes and a quieter mind, discovering little treasures that you might have overlooked the first time around.

Meanwhile, I am still waiting for my new camera to arrive. The Sony A7R VI has yet to find its way into Australian stock, and honestly, how long does one have to wait? 😂 In the meantime, I suppose patience is another skill a photographer must learn, alongside chasing the light and waiting for the perfect moment.

Until then, I shall make do with what I have, revisit a few old favourites, and keep shooting whenever the mood strikes. After all, the joy of photography was never just about having the latest gear. It is about seeing the world a little differently, finding beauty in unexpected places, and occasionally striking gold among those hundreds of frames.

Sony A7RV

FE 70-200mm f4 G

Linking Sunday Best

Dredge and Dragline in Maldon Victoria for Black and White Community

 

A monument to a golden era, rusted in a toxic soup.

Here stands the pride of our historical heritage: an abandoned dredge and dragline left to decay elegantly in the wilderness, gracefully poisoning the local water table. It is truly a marvel of preservation, if by "preservation" we mean letting heavy metals season an open, completely un-secluded pond where local kids can freely explore the rich, tactile history of industrial contamination.

The surrounding eucalyptus trees frame this metal carcass beautifully, leaning in as if to whisper secrets of 19th-century wealth and 21st-century neglect. It is the ultimate multi-tasking landscape—serving simultaneously as an open-air museum, a playground for the blissfully unaware, and a slow-release chemical cocktail. Capturing these monochrome vistas offered a striking visual intermission between home visit consultations, proving that while human health requires deliberate care, our industrial history is perfectly content to look after itself.

Sony A7RV

Laowa 9mm f5.6 

Linking Black and White Community

Bay of Martyrs Great Ocean Road for Skywatch Friday

 

The sun dips low, painting the sky in soft, bruised tones of twilight as it holds its breath above the Great Ocean Road. At the Bay of Martyrs, evening arrives not with a roar, but a quiet, golden sigh.

A brilliant trail of liquid light spills across the dark silk of the sea, fracturing into a thousand shimmering ripples that reach toward the shore. Guarding this fleeting brilliance are the ancient ones—dark, weather-worn islands and solitary sea stacks rising from the shadows. They stand as silent sentinels in the fading warmth, cradling the sun’s last fiery reflection before the night reclaims the waves.

Sony A7RV

FE 70-200mm f4 G

Linking Skywatch Friday

Cadillac Gorge sunset San Remo for Water H2O Thursday

 

Twilight settles over Cadillac Canyon, a raw basalt platform hidden along the wild Bass Coast near Phillip Island.

In the distance, a violent ocean surge shatters against dark stone shelves, throwing a ghostly plume of spray into the bleeding rose and violet sky. As the frenzy passes, the water yields, spilling backward through deep channels in a silken, slow exhale. This receding rush transforms the chaotic swell into smooth, velvet-creamy tide pools, capturing a fleeting trace of motion right before darkness folds over the coast.

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4 G

Linking Water H2O Thursday

Firelight festival in Dockland for Sign2

 

The Firelight Festival seems to grow a little smaller with each passing year, as though it too has fallen victim to the quiet shrinkflation of our times. There may be fewer installations and less spectacle than before, but when night descends, the illuminated signs still cast their magic into the darkness. Their glowing letters, vivid colours and playful reflections transform ordinary streets into something almost dreamlike. Perhaps the festival has lost a little of its former grandeur, yet there is still a certain charm in wandering beneath the night sky, where light and shadow dance together, and familiar surroundings take on a fleeting, otherworldly beauty.

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Linking Sign2

Doncaster Shopping town Westfield view for Treasure Tuesday

 

Lately, Joel and I have grown a little lazy with our photography outings, spending less time chasing scenery and more time simply enjoying the day together. After a Korean barbecue at Westfield Doncaster, I happened to glance out across the car park and caught sight of the Melbourne skyline stretching into the distance. A quick shot, almost an afterthought, yet somehow it became the treasure of the day. Sometimes, the photographs worth keeping are not the ones we set out to capture, but the unexpected gifts that find us along the way.

There is, however, a certain irony to photographing from shopping centre car parks. Security guards are quick to approach us when we point our cameras towards the distant skyline, as though a harmless photograph of Melbourne's cityscape poses some great security threat. Yet, when it comes to the reported incidents of youngsters wielding machetes inside shopping centres, one cannot help but wonder where that same vigilance goes. It seems that a camera aimed at the horizon can attract more immediate attention than the troubling things happening much closer to home.

Still, the skyline remains beautiful, and the photograph is mine to keep. After all, we went out for a meal, not a photography expedition, and came home with a little unexpected treasure. Perhaps that is the charm of photography: even on a lazy day, when inspiration seems to have wandered off somewhere, the world occasionally offers us a reason to lift the camera again.

Sony a7RV

FE 70-200mm f4 G

Linking Treasure Tuesday

Hosier Lane Melbourne for Mural Monday

 

This is one of the murals along Hosier Lane, where the ever-changing walls are as much a canvas for creativity as they are a battleground for competing signatures. Inevitably, the artwork has been marred by layers of careless tagging, each new mark claiming a little more of the wall. Yet, beneath the visual clutter, the paint seems to catch the light and glimmer with an almost magical radiance. There is something distinctly playful about its cartoon-like style, with bold colours and exaggerated forms that seem to leap from the concrete, lending the mural a curious sense of life and movement amid the urban chaos

Sony A7RV

FE 16mm f1.8 G

Linking Mural Monday

Bridgewater Bay in Blairgowrie in a different look for Sunday Best

 

The afternoon light drifts across Bridgewater Bay, spilling gold over the jagged rim of a natural rock pool where the restless surf meets the shore. From high upon the crags, the coastline unfolds in all its untamed grandeur, revealing a vast shelf of reef laid bare by the retreating tide. Great dark boulders lie scattered across the pale sand, as though the ocean has cast them ashore and forgotten to reclaim them. Between the rocks, vivid green moss clings to the dark shallows, bringing unexpected life to this ancient landscape.

Below, the receding waters settle into stillness, transforming the tidal flats into a mosaic of natural mirrors. They hold the warm glow of the sunlit cliffs and the distant silhouette of a rugged rock bridge arching over the shoreline. Here, there is no need to soften time with a long exposure. The landscape reveals itself in all its quiet precision: the delicate contours of moss-covered mounds, the tiny figures of visitors standing against the vastness, and the crystalline surfaces of tide pools cradling fragments of sky.

For a brief moment, the sea seems to have forgotten its restless nature. Between the ebb and flow of the tides, Bridgewater Bay rests in a rare stillness, where light, water and stone come together in a timeless conversation.

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4 G

Linking Sunday Best

Pinnacles in Cape Woolamai for Water H2O Thursday

 

The rocks flanking the Pinnacles of Cape Woolamai are often overlooked, standing quietly on either side of the more celebrated formations. Yet I have always been drawn to these lesser-seen corners of the coast, where the landscape reveals a different kind of beauty to those willing to look beyond the familiar.

The first photograph captures a particularly inaccessible stretch, a place few venture into because of the danger of rogue tides and the seemingly impossible jumble of rock stacks that must be negotiated on foot, hopping from one precarious foothold to another. I ventured there once on a low-tide day, only to pay a small but costly price for my curiosity, breaking a filter and a lens along the way. The coast has its own way of reminding us that beauty is not always meant to be approached without consequence.

And then there is Joel, growing older alongside me, though perhaps less inclined these days to trust his footing on the uneven ground. In the photograph below, he has ingeniously enlisted his tripod as a three-legged walking companion, turning a piece of photographic equipment into a makeshift walking stick. 😂 Perhaps this is what years of exploring together eventually lead to: the rocks remain stubbornly ancient, the tides continue their restless dance, and we learn to negotiate the landscape with a little more care, a little less haste, and a growing appreciation for the simple pleasure of still being out there together.

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4 G

Linking Water H2O Thursday