Bore Beach Sunset San Remo for Skywatch Friday

 

The place I was meant to visit was actually immersed in sea water right there. Another day of miscalculation. But before the staircase down to the beach, I spotted these misty glow in the valley nearby. It is quite pleasant

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4 G

Linking Skywatch Friday

Bore Beach San Remo at Gippsland for Water H2O Thursday

 

My apologies in advance — over the coming weeks, my posts will be devoted entirely to the seascapes of this beloved coast. I find quiet joy in the short drive and in the patient search for light, texture, and tide along its edge.

Bore Beach at San Remo carries a history woven deep into Victoria’s maritime past. Once part of a rugged fishing and trading route, it served as a working shoreline where boats were launched into the often restless waters of Bass Strait. In the late nineteenth century, the nearby township of San Remo grew around the bridgehead that linked the mainland to Phillip Island, becoming a small but vital port for granite, coal, and the island’s dairy produce. Local fishermen would gather at Bore Beach before dawn, their lanterns swaying like low stars, setting out to sea for snapper and salmon.

Today, the beach remains quieter — its industry replaced by contemplation. The wind carries only traces of those early voices, mingling with the cry of gulls and the rhythmic pull of the tide. To wander here is to feel both the endurance of the sea and the fragile beauty of human memory along its shore.

Sony A7RV 

FE 20-70mm f4 G

Linking Water H2O Thursday

Pearses Bay Track Blairgowrie for Treasure Tuesday

 

Pearses Bay has become our chosen trail—Joel’s and mine—a place where the land curves gently toward the restless sea. The walk unfolds with a quiet grace, the salt wind brushing softly against the face like a familiar hand. There is solace in its constancy, a rhythm of air and tide that speaks without words.

With a telephoto lens, I linger by the shore, studying the water as it folds and unfurls in endless conversation with the rocks. Each ripple, each surge, becomes a stanza of motion and light. It matters little whether the sky is bright or brooding; the sea always offers a new language to read, a shifting mirror for the mind. And so, we return—drawn by the hush between the waves, where observation becomes a kind of prayer, and the simple act of looking feels like belonging.

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4 G

Linking Treasure Tuesday

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

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

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

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

Forest Cave Phillip Island for Water H2O Thursday

 

I have sought a somewhat high-key approach in this composition. Though it is not the product of a long exposure, I endeavoured to capture the advancing waves as they swept across the shore, smoothing the sand as though polishing a vast marble floor. The shutter was set at neither too swift nor too languid a pace, thereby rendering a natural softness in the motion of the sea.

This scene unfolds upon one of Phillip Island’s secluded forest-fringed cave beaches, where rugged cliffs and weathered rock bear silent witness to millennia of wind and tide. The dense coastal woodland above, with its canopy of eucalypt and tea-tree, whispers of an ancient landscape that has sheltered wildlife and echoed with the passage of the Bunurong people long before European discovery. Here, in the meeting of forest, stone, and sea, the rhythms of history and nature are inscribed in every grain of sand and every retreating wave.

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4 G

Linking Water H2O Thursday

Cadillac Gorge Coast Gippsland for Skywatch Friday

 

Cadillac Gorge in Gippsland is a place of singular beauty, best revealed in its fullness when the tide runs high. Unlike many locations along the coast near Melbourne, which lose much of their drama to the receding waters, this gorge gains its splendour precisely at the hour when the sea presses inward, filling its chasms with heaving, silvered tides. It was during the quiet severity of winter that this particular scene was captured, when the air was sharp, the sea restless, and the light cast a subdued, almost austere glow across the stone.

The natural history of the gorge is deeply rooted in the geological character of Gippsland’s coast. Over countless millennia, waves and weather chiselled away at the softer rock, leaving behind a rugged cleft where the sea now surges and withdraws in eternal rhythm. The walls of the gorge bear silent testimony to this slow labour of time, their strata marking ancient epochs of earth and ocean. In winter, sea-spray often wreathes the rocks in a fine mist, and birdlife—gulls, cormorants, and the occasional sea eagle—can be seen circling above, drawn by the bounty of the waters.

The human history of Cadillac Gorge, though quieter, is no less meaningful. Long before European settlement, the coastal country of Gippsland was part of the traditional lands of the Gunai/Kurnai people, for whom the shorelines and sea caves were places of food gathering, story, and spiritual connection. With colonisation, the coast became a frontier for sealing, fishing, and later, tourism, as travellers from Melbourne sought out wild beauty beyond the city. Today, though relatively little known compared with the more frequented coves of Phillip Island or the Great Ocean Road, Cadillac Gorge stands as one of those hidden places that rewards patient discovery.

Thus, a photograph taken here at high tide is not merely an image of rocks and water: it is a moment within a much older story, shaped by the forces of earth and sea, and framed by the layered presence of human history upon the land.

Sony A7RV

FE 16-35mm f2.8 GM

Linking Skywatch Friday

Kitty Miller Bay Phillip Island for Water H2O Thursday

 

Kitty Miller Bay, situated on the southern coast of Phillip Island, is renowned as a premier destination for surfing, drawing enthusiasts with its consistently favorable waves and striking coastal scenery. The bay, framed by dramatic cliffs and pristine sandy shores, bears witness to both natural and human history. Its geological formations tell the story of ancient coastal processes, while the surrounding vegetation reflects the island’s unique flora adapted to the harsh marine environment. Historically, the area has attracted mariners, and remnants of shipwrecks along the shore serve as poignant reminders of the perilous seas that once challenged early navigation. I once visited Kitty Miller Bay in pursuit of capturing a compelling photograph of one such shipwreck, seeking to preserve the interplay of natural beauty and historical resonance in a single image.

Sony A7RV

FE 70-200mm f4 G

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.

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4 G

Linking Water H2O Thursday

Pulpit Rock in cloudy sky for Skywatch Friday

 

I have shared numerous photographs from this region. Pulpit Rock, a striking natural formation at Cape Schanck on Victoria’s Mornington Peninsula, bears a resemblance to a phallic symbol. This prominent geological feature is composed primarily of basalt, formed from ancient volcanic activity approximately 20 million years ago during the Miocene epoch. The rock stands as a testament to the region’s turbulent geological past, where successive lava flows cooled and solidified, creating the rugged coastline that defines Cape Schanck today.

In this particular image, the golden hour’s enchanting light is absent, replaced instead by an overcast sky. The green algae carpeting the foreground emerges as the principal feature, adding a vibrant contrast against the dark basalt. These algae thrive in the intertidal zones of the rocky shore, contributing to the complex coastal ecosystem by providing nourishment and habitat for a variety of marine life.

The air was chill, and Joel was unwilling to remain for long. During our visit, we observed a young boy of Indian descent nearly swept from the precarious rocks and into the sea—a stark reminder of the power of the ocean at this exposed headland. Pulpit Rock and its surrounding cliffs are constantly shaped by relentless waves and winds, making it a site of both breathtaking beauty and inherent natural danger.

Sony A7RV

FE 16-35mm f2.8 GM

Linking Sky watch Friday

Bridgewater Bay Blairgowrie for Water H2O Thursday

 

There has been scarcely any significant low tide in recent months along this stretch of coast. Thus, I seized a brief moment to capture a photograph from the stairway, looking down toward the shore. Nearby, one of the sand cliffs has given way, its collapse engulfing the entire shoreline beneath a shroud of earth and debris.

This took place at Bridgewater Bay, situated in Blairgowrie on the Mornington Peninsula, south of Melbourne. Renowned for its rugged coastal beauty, Bridgewater Bay features sweeping limestone cliffs, secluded rock pools, and crescent-shaped sands that are accessible only during favourable tides. In calmer times, its natural amphitheatre and tidal platforms attract walkers and beachcombers alike. Yet nature’s forces here are ever at play — carving, shaping, and at times overwhelming the very landscape they adorn.

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4 G

Linking Water H2O Thursday

Grantville Jetty Sunset for Skywatch Friday

 

Grantville lies not far from Tenby Point, and it was this proximity that led Joel and me to visit—drawn, curiously enough, by a singular souvlaki shop, notable for being operated by Greeks rather than the more common Chinese proprietors. The lamb served here is remarkably succulent, richly complemented by a garlicky parsley sauce that lingers pleasantly on the palate.

Just behind the modest establishment stands the town's jetty, offering a quiet vista over the water. Thus, our visit served a dual purpose—culinary and contemplative—allowing us, as the saying goes, to kill two birds with one stone.

Sony A7RV

FE 14mm f1.8 GM

Linking Skywatch Friday

Bay of Islands in Blairgowrie Mornington Peninsula for Water H2O Thursday

 

There exist three distinct locations bearing the name Bay of Islands within the state of Victoria, Australia. I have had the pleasure of visiting each of them. Of these, the one situated closest to Melbourne holds a particular charm for me. Nestled along the Mornington Peninsula, this coastal enclave offers a striking interplay of sea cliffs, hidden inlets, and crystalline waters—ideal for moments of quiet reflection or aerial exploration.

When my companion Joel and I are not preoccupied with the pursuit of sunset landscapes, we often retreat to this locale to fly our drone and capture sweeping views of the coastline. The rugged contours and tranquil hues lend themselves beautifully to this form of observation.

The second Bay of Islands lies within the famed Great Ocean Road region, west of Peterborough. This is perhaps the most well-known of the three, celebrated for its dramatic limestone stacks rising from the Southern Ocean—remnants of a landscape carved by centuries of wind and wave.

The third, more remote and lesser known, is found near the shores of Corner Inlet in Gippsland. Here, coastal serenity and the subtle presence of birdlife create a setting marked by calm rather than spectacle. Each Bay of Islands bears its own character, yet all share the same elemental spirit—where land meets sea in timeless conversation.

Linking Water H2O Thursday

Star fish at Mount Martha Melbourne for Saturday Critter

 

While walking along the coast near Mount Martha, I came upon this starfish resting just beneath the water’s surface. Though it is a known marine pest along our shores, I could not help but appreciate the quiet moment when it appeared beside my feet as I was photographing the sea.

The image depicts a sea star—also known as a starfish—positioned upon a bed of green algae and submerged vegetation. Notably, it possesses more than the customary five arms, suggesting it may belong to a multi-armed species such as the Solaster, commonly referred to as the sun star.

These creatures are marine echinoderms, distinguished by their radial symmetry and numerous tube feet, which they employ to navigate the ocean floor. This specimen was observed in a shallow, tranquil coastal pool, where the clarity of the water revealed the richness of the marine flora beneath.

Sony A7RV

FE 70-200mm f4 G

Linking Saturday Critter

Flinders Blowhole Mornington Peninsula for Water H2O Thursday

 

This photograph was taken during our previous excursion to Flinders Blowhole on the Mornington Peninsula, a destination chosen for its proximity to our residence in Melbourne. At the time, Joel and I favoured locations that required only a short drive. Presently, Joel finds himself occupied with visits from his in-laws, who travel frequently from Sydney—ostensibly, he believes, to spend time with their grandchildren. As for myself, I am presently taking a respite from coastal outings, having developed a growing interest in exploring the urban landscape instead.

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4 G

Linking Water H2O Thursday

Bridgewater Bay Blairgowrie for Skywatch Friday

 

Winter sunsets often display warmer and more vivid hues than those of summer. This is partly due to the sun being farther from the Earth during the winter months. I find particular enjoyment in photographing sunsets during this season, as Joel and I are then able to visit the local fish and chip shop afterwards, with the sun setting conveniently around five o'clock.

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4

Linking Skywatch Friday

London Bridge, Portsea, Mornington Peninsula for Water H2O Thursday

 

Joel and I once again found ourselves in this picturesque corner of Melbourne, drawn by the timeless beauty of the coast at Portsea. The tide had risen halfway, lapping gently at the shore, and we took the opportunity to capture another image of the sea cave before the encroaching waves swallowed the space entirely.

This site, known as London Bridge, holds a quiet majesty shaped by millennia of natural forces. Carved by the relentless action of wind and water, the arch once formed a striking natural bridge jutting into the Bass Strait. For decades, it stood as a proud sentinel of the Mornington Peninsula, a favourite among visitors and locals alike.

However, in 2005, the bridge partially collapsed—its central span giving way to the ocean’s persistent erosion. What remains now is a rugged, windswept fragment of its former grandeur, a solemn reminder of nature’s power to both create and undo. Today, as the sea reclaims the cave below, we are reminded not only of the fragility of these coastal formations but also of the fleeting moments we are fortunate enough to witness.

Sony A7RV

FE 35mm f1.4 GM

Linking Water H2O Thursday