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
