Point King Jetty, Sorrento for Treasure Tuesday

 

Last weekend, when the weather turned unfavourable, Joel and I sought shelter and diversion in the comfort of a Japanese bar, where we enjoyed a glass of sake together. Another quiet weekend of food and drink, and the indulgence that inevitably follows.

Point King Jetty, once the preserve of Melbourne’s affluent elite, was originally constructed in the 19th century to provide a landing place for the distinguished visitors who travelled by steamship to the Mornington Peninsula. The secluded shoreline of Sorrento became, for a time, a playground of privilege, a place where the wealthy could disembark directly onto their own stretch of sand, shielded from the crowds. Today, however, such exclusivity has long since dissolved, and the jetty—though weathered by time—welcomes visitors of every kind, including casual wanderers such as ourselves.

On that particular day, the sky unfolded in sweeping dramas of cloud, shifting and curling above the calm waters of the bay. The photograph I share was taken during that visit. The curious shade of blue is not the true reflection of the sea, but rather the result of a known issue with the Sony camera’s sensor I once used. At the time, I lacked the patience to correct the colours in post-editing, yet the image remains for me a testament not only to the scene itself, but also to the imperfections and character of the tools with which it was captured.

Sony A7III

FE 16-35mm f2.8 GM

Linking Treasure Tuesday

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

Ryūzu Falls in Japan for Treasure Tuesday

 

Many years ago, I found myself wandering the mountain paths of Nikkō with only a small point-and-shoot camera and a tripod as my companions. My intention had been to capture the splendour of autumn leaves, but the season had already slipped away, leaving the branches bare and the forest quiet. What might have seemed a disappointment at first revealed itself instead as a rare gift: in the absence of fiery foliage, the falls themselves became the focus, luminous and unadorned. I pressed the shutter only a few times, yet this image has endured as one of the few remaining from that period of my life. Looking back, I would not dare attempt such a venture again, yet the memory remains as vivid as the sound of the water that day.

The cascade before me was Ryūzu Falls (Ryūzu no Taki, 竜頭の滝), the Dragon’s Head Waterfall, whose twin streams tumble down the rocks in a white veil that, with a touch of imagination, resembles the horns and mane of a mythic creature. The Yukawa River feeds its ceaseless descent, carrying the mountain’s breath from Lake Yunoko down toward Lake Chūzenji, tracing a course carved over countless centuries.

Ryūzu has long been cherished not only for its beauty but for its spirit. In Japan, waterfalls are often regarded as sacred thresholds where nature reveals its force and purity, and where pilgrims once paused for contemplation on their way to the shrines of Nikkō. Standing before the falls, one senses that same timeless quality: the mingling of power and grace, the endless renewal of water against stone. In autumn, the spectacle is even more profound, when maples and beeches ignite in red and gold, as though the dragon itself were breathing fire into the forest. Even out of season, however, the falls hold their majesty—reminding the traveler that beauty is not confined to the height of autumn but lingers quietly in every moment of the year.

What remains most precious to me is not the photograph itself, but the silence and humility it recalls. The memory of Ryūzu Falls is a reminder that nature does not perform for us; it simply endures, and in its endurance, offers us a glimpse of something eternal.

Linking Treasure Tuesday

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

Serenity falls, Queensland for Sunday Best

 

Serenity Falls, hidden within the lush embrace of Buderim Forest Park on Queensland’s Sunshine Coast, is a place where the natural world seems to speak in a softer, older language. The track that winds through the forest leads the visitor past three distinct cascades, each with its own charm, before arriving at the falls themselves—a ribbon of water tumbling gracefully over weathered rock into a shaded pool below. The journey is as captivating as the destination, for the path meanders beneath a canopy of subtropical rainforest that has flourished here for centuries. Strangler figs with their immense buttressed roots stand like sentinels, while piccabeen palms rise in elegant clusters, their fronds swaying with the faintest breath of breeze. Ferns, mosses, and lichens carpet the shaded gullies, their green hues intensified by the constant moisture.

The atmosphere is one of tranquil vitality. Birdsong drifts through the forest, punctuated by the whipbird’s sharp call and the softer murmur of smaller songbirds moving among the branches. Insects hum in the undergrowth, while the cool air carries the faint, earthy scent of damp leaf litter. The falls themselves seem to gather and release this energy, their waters tumbling with a rhythm that both soothes and enlivens. The light filtering through the canopy adds to the tropical impression, creating shifting patterns of brightness and shadow that dance across the rocks and water.

To linger here is to be reminded of the resilience of Queensland’s rainforests, remnants of ancient ecosystems that once spread far more widely across the continent. Serenity Falls is more than a scenic landmark; it is a living fragment of deep natural history, where the subtropical forest continues to thrive in a delicate balance of shade, moisture, and life. To walk its tracks and stand before its cascades is to step, if only for a moment, into a world both timeless and ever-renewing.

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4 G

Linking Sunday Best

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

Powlett River of Kilcunda, Gippsland for Treasure Tuesday

 

There was a time when I did not care for long-exposure photography. I preferred instead the water in its “natural” state, unsoftened, its surface rippling and restless, rather than rendered into a silken blur. Yet I must concede that the long-exposed image has its own particular merit, offering a dreamlike interpretation of movement and time.

The Powlett River, near Kilcunda on Victoria’s south coast, is no grand stream but rather a modest watercourse, carving a narrow channel through the sand before it yields itself to the Bass Strait. I am fond of it precisely for this reason: it is unassuming, like a quiet canal pressed into the earth. The river originates in the foothills near Wonthaggi and meanders through farmland and wetlands before finding its way to the ocean. Its estuary, fringed by dunes and saltmarsh, provides habitat for birdlife such as herons, egrets, and the shy Latham’s snipe, while native grasses and coastal scrub bind the shifting sands against the sea winds.

Though small in scale, the Powlett has played a quiet but enduring role in the natural and human history of the district. The Bunurong people knew its waters and fished its estuary long before European settlement. In the nineteenth century, the river valley served as fertile ground for agriculture and grazing. Today, it is valued both as a place of ecological significance and as a site of tranquil beauty—its modest waters flowing steadily toward the restless ocean, unchanged in essence by the passing of time.

Sony A7III

Canon 35mm f1.4 L

Linking Treasure Tuesday

Turpin Waterfall, Bendigo for Water H20 Thursday

 

Turpin Falls, not far from Bendigo, remains etched in my memory as one of those rare discoveries that seem almost too wondrous to share. I visited the falls some four years ago, and though I cannot recall quite how I came upon the exact vantage point that day, I remember well the sense of awe as the basalt cliffs opened before me and the water poured in a silver sheet into the deep pool below. The cliffs themselves tell of a distant volcanic age, their dark basalt columns rising like the walls of some vast natural cathedral, while the surrounding country speaks of long habitation by the Dja Dja Wurrung people, for whom this landscape has always held meaning. For over a century, the falls have drawn summer visitors, who would climb down to the base for swimming and relief from the heat, their laughter echoing against the stone. Yet such visits belong now to memory, for the track to the base has been permanently closed, both to preserve the fragile environment and to ensure safety upon those treacherous rocks. In a sense, this loss lends a heightened value to my recollection: a private moment of communion with the wild spirit of the place, both a traveller’s fleeting encounter and a glimpse into the deep natural and cultural heritage of Turpin Falls.

Sony A7RV

FE 70-200mm f2.8 GM

Check oout Water H2O Thursday

Beauchamps waterfall in Beech Forest Great Ocean Road for Water H2O Thursday

 

I remain on call for another week, my days confined to a unit, tethered to a telephone, awaiting summons from hospital staff. Life in such circumstances is uneventful, and my movements are dictated by the ring of a bell rather than my own volition. Within these narrow confines, my one liberty is to share images of water when the opportunity presents itself.

In my university years, I was captivated by the art of photographing waterfalls, seeking them out with a fervour I no longer possess. One such cascade was Beauchamp Falls, among the three principal waterfalls in the Beech Forest region, situated north of Apollo Bay along the famed Great Ocean Road. The walk to the falls is a return trek of approximately two hours—moderate in exertion yet rich in reward. The path descends through cool temperate rainforest, where towering mountain ash (Eucalyptus regnans), tree ferns, and myrtle beech cast deep shade upon the forest floor. Birdsong echoes faintly through the canopy, and in summer the air hums with the persistent presence of mosquitoes, undeterred by human intrusion.

The falls themselves descend in a singular veil of white water, dropping approximately 20 metres into a clear pool encircled by moss-covered rocks and lush undergrowth. They are named in honour of William Beauchamp, an early settler in the district, and stand as a quiet testament to the enduring beauty of the Otways. Fed by the East Barham River, their flow remains steady even in drier months, owing to the high rainfall and dense forest cover of the catchment. Visiting Beauchamp Falls is less an act of travel than a passage into a living remnant of Victoria’s ancient Gondwanan forests—timeless, green, and untamed.

Pentax K10D

FE 30mm f1.8 limited 

Linking Water H2O Thursday

Portsea Back Beach in Mornington Peninsula for Treasure Tuesday

 

At times, once an image is captured, I find it impossible to recreate it again, even when returning to the same location under seemingly similar lighting conditions. For a period, I frequently ventured alone along the shore, experimenting with various shutter speeds and techniques. I persisted in my pursuit irrespective of the weather. These photographs were taken during that time at Portsea—a locale not renowned as a popular tourist destination yet distinguished by its exposed ocean floor at low tide. Though these scenes may not captivate the majority, I hold a profound affection for these two particular images

Sony A7RV

FE 16-35mm f2.8 GM

Linking Treasure Tuesday

Killen Falls Ballina NSW for Sunday Best

 

I have visited this waterfall on several occasions, primarily during my locum postings in either Ballina or Lismore, New South Wales. While I have previously shared several images of the falls, I had not, until now, revealed the singular perspective from within the cave behind the cascade. On that particular visit, the conditions were exceedingly damp, the air thick with mist and the roar of falling water echoing within the hollowed rock.

Killen Falls, part of the Emigrant Creek catchment, is a vestige of the region's ancient volcanic history—its basalt cliffs formed by lava flows from the long-extinct Mount Warning shield volcano. The waterfall plunges over a semi-circular basalt overhang, allowing one to stand within the cave and behold the curtain of water from behind, a rare and immersive vantage point in nature.

Following this wet and awe-filled exploration, I ventured to a nearby township where I partook in a traditional Jewish breakfast—an experience that remains warmly entwined with the memory of that elemental and storied place.

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4 G

Linking Sunday Best

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

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

Cape Schanck Sunset for Sky Watch Friday

 

Cape Schanck, situated on the southern tip of the Mornington Peninsula, is a place of remarkable natural beauty and a favored destination for photographers. While it is particularly renowned for its breathtaking sunrises, I must confess that, on the rare occasions I find respite from work, I struggle to rise at such an early hour. Nevertheless, the allure of the cape endures.

Joel holds a particular fondness for Cape Schanck, in no small part due to its convenient proximity to Melbourne—a mere 45-minute journey under favorable conditions. The walk down the rugged staircase, though physically demanding, offers invigorating exercise and rewards one with sweeping coastal vistas.

Rich in both natural splendor and historical significance, Cape Schanck has long captivated visitors. Its dramatic cliffs, shaped by millennia of wind and sea, stand as silent sentinels over the restless waters of Bass Strait. The iconic Cape Schanck Lighthouse, built in 1859, adds a further layer of charm, bearing witness to the maritime history that continues to define the region.

In all, it is a place where land, sea, and sky converge in a timeless dance—a setting that stirs the soul, whether viewed through the lens of a camera or the quiet contemplation of the heart.

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4 G

Linking Skywatch Friday

I find myself experiencing a degree of muscle strain, the result of the many walks I undertook throughout Sydney’s central business district. Tomorrow, I shall return home to Melbourne.

La La Creek in Warburton Melbourne for Water H2O Thursday

 

The journey from Melbourne to La La Creek in Warburton is oftentimes a test of patience. Each township en route enforces a strict speed limit of 50 kilometres per hour, and the frequent deceleration through these settlements serves only to prolong the wearying passage. Yet, upon arrival, all such inconveniences are swiftly forgotten.

La La Creek, nestled within the tranquil folds of the Yarra Ranges, offers a quietude that soothes the spirit. In winter, the air is brisk and pure, and the perennial murmur of the creek weaves through the forested glen like a thread of silver sound. The absence of mosquitoes during the colder months renders the experience all the more agreeable, allowing one to linger undisturbed by the banks of this gentle watercourse.

Once a source of life and sustenance for the Wurundjeri people and later a site frequented by timber-cutters and bushwalkers alike, the creek now flows in peaceful retirement, its mossy stones and fern-fringed edges recalling a natural history both rich and enduring. Here, beneath towering mountain ash and alongside trails softened by fallen leaves, one finds a serenity rare in the modern world.

Sony A7RV

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.

Granite Island, Victor Harbour, South Australia for Water H2O Thursday

 

These photographs showcase areas of Granite Island that were not included in my earlier publications. The striking red mosses adorning the granite rocks are a distinctive and captivating feature of the island’s natural landscape. Granite Island, located just off the coast of Victor Harbor in South Australia, is famed for its extensive granite outcrops formed millions of years ago, which have shaped its unique terrain and ecosystem. The island boasts a rich history, having been inhabited by the Ngarrindjeri people for thousands of years before European settlement, and today serves as a protected reserve supporting diverse native flora and fauna, including the well-known little penguin colony. I find great enjoyment and solace in experiencing the island’s remarkable natural beauty and the opportunity to immerse myself in its serene environment.

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4 G

Linking Water H2O Thursday