Maldon Night Sky for Skywatch Friday

 

Another photograph emerges from my earlier endeavours to capture the Milky Way arcing over the night sky of Maldon—a small Victorian town whose silence after dusk seems made for stargazing. The Milky Way hangs there like a memory etched in light, undisturbed by the slow breathing of the land below. Standing beneath that celestial sweep, I recall a decade-old exchange: my tentative enquiry with the local hospital about employment, and their firm insistence that only the most renowned specialists in the country were fit for service in this quiet town. It felt an irony of scale—a remote settlement with modest economic activity aspiring to impossible standards—one that gently closed a door before it ever opened.

Time, however, has a curious way of circling back. Over the years, invitations and requests to provide services here have drifted my way, as persistent as the evening breeze that moves through the gums. And yet, I find myself declining, not out of resentment, but from a quiet shift in purpose. I have come to prefer observing Maldon rather than working within it—studying its contours through the lens, not the clinic. These days, I arrive only with a camera, drawn more to its stories than its needs.

Maldon itself is a place where history does not lie dormant; it glows softly beneath the surface like embers of an old fire. During the gold-mining era of the 1850s, this was a town alive with feverish promise. Its hills, now calm and draped in native scrub, once rang with the clatter of picks and the rumble of quartz-crushing batteries. Tents rose like temporary dreams, shops and hotels sprang up overnight, and fortunes were made or shattered in the dust of a single day. The goldfields carved the character of Maldon—its wide verandahs, its brick shopfronts, its still-standing chimneys—and left behind a heritage precinct now cherished for its rare preservation.

By daylight, the remnants of that past lie scattered across the landscape: abandoned shafts, rusted machinery, and slopes reshaped by human determination. But under the night sky, these relics recede into silhouette, and Maldon returns to a kind of primordial quiet, older even than the gold rush. It becomes a meeting place of eras—the ancient light above and the colonial history below, with my camera simply bearing witness.

So I wander through the town not as a clinician, nor as a would-be specialist, but as someone content to capture what remains when ambition has faded: the curve of a starlit street, the loneliness of an old mining headframe, the way the Milky Way spills over Maldon as though blessing both the glory of its past and the gentle obscurity of its present. Photography, here, feels like the truest work I can offer.

Sony A7RV

FE 16-35mm f2.8 GM

Linking Skywatch Friday

Waixi Creek Taipei for Water H2O Thursday

 

Waixi Creek winds quietly through the misty hills of Pingxi, its water a shade of deep green that seems to hold the reflection of the forest itself. Upstream, I crossed a semi-abandoned bridge, its timbers darkened by age and softened by moss. The air was still, save for the low whisper of water and the faint creak of wood beneath my steps. Ahead, a small fan-shaped waterfall spilled gracefully over rocks, its delicate spread catching the morning light. I lingered there, letting the sound of the water wash over me, not yet in sight of the great Shifen Waterfall but already feeling its presence—somewhere ahead, where the creek gathers itself into strength.

Shifen Waterfall lies deep within the Pingxi Valley of northern Taiwan, where the Keelung River winds through layered stone and forest. The name “Shifen” dates back to the Qing dynasty, when ten families settled in this fertile gorge and divided the land into ten equal portions. Over the centuries, the river shaped the valley into what it is today: a landscape of cliffs, pools, and narrow ravines, where countless tributaries like Waixi feed into the main flow. The region’s bedrock slopes against the direction of the water, forcing it into a magnificent arc as it drops nearly twenty meters across a span of forty. When sunlight pierces the rising mist, a rainbow sometimes forms across the pool, and locals call it the “Rainbow Pond.”

The Shifen area once thrived as a coal-mining settlement during the Japanese colonial period. The Pingxi railway line was built through the valley to carry black coal to the port cities, and its narrow track still runs alongside the river today. Over time, as mining faded into memory, the valley’s rhythm returned to one of water and forest. The old bridges, tunnels, and stone paths remain, quietly reclaimed by moss and vines, linking the past to the present with every weathered beam and rusted nail.

As I followed Waixi upstream that morning, I felt that mixture of age and renewal in every sight—the rustic bridge standing like a remnant of an older world, the creek’s green current alive and changing, and the fan-shaped waterfall fanning out in a quiet gesture of welcome. The larger Shifen Waterfall waited farther down, roaring and majestic, but here in the upper stream there was a gentler beauty. It was a place of pause, where time moved as slowly as the drifting ripples on the water’s surface.

Walking toward the main falls, I realised that what draws one to Shifen is not only the grandeur of the waterfall itself, but the quiet journey toward it. The bridges, the green pools, the minor cascades—each holds a story, a small breath of history and nature intertwined. In that gentle space before the thunder of the falls, the world feels balanced between motion and stillness. The creek, the valley, and the waterfall together form a kind of living memory—Taiwan’s heart reflected in water, stone, and light.

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4 G

Linking Water H2O Thursday

Monkey Magic Mural for Mural Monday

 

I recall a mural once painted upon the wall of an abandoned factory in North Richmond. At that time, the television series then airing on the ABC was immensely popular, and the mural seemed almost a reflection of that cultural moment. How changed the area is now. The neighbourhood has fallen into neglect and disrepute, its streets shadowed by the presence of the state-sponsored heroin injection facility—an establishment most ill-advisedly situated beside a primary school. What was once a modest but spirited corner of Melbourne has been marred by this ill-conceived social experiment, leaving North Richmond diminished in both safety and dignity.

Pentax K20D

Da 15mm f1.8 limited 

Linking Mural Monday

Mathias track, Dandenong for Sunday Best

 

Mathias Track holds both natural and human history woven into its length. Stretching seventeen kilometres through the Dandenong Ranges National Park, it traverses forests of towering mountain ash, groves of tree ferns, and pockets of dry, open woodland. In winter, the land is drier than one might expect for a mountain range; the undergrowth thins, the soil hardens, and the bare forms of the hills emerge more distinctly, giving the track an austere beauty. Lyrebirds often scratch along the forest floor, and the air carries the scent of eucalyptus and damp earth.

The track itself carries a trace of colonial history. It was originally surveyed as a service road, named after Carl Mathias, an early forester who worked in the region when logging of the mountain ash was at its height in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Alongside its natural splendour, the path retains echoes of human endeavour—abandoned huts and remnants of early forest camps stand as silent witnesses to the men who felled timber and sought shelter here.

Walking along Mathias Track today is thus both a communion with nature and a dialogue with the past. The stillness of the bush contrasts with the faint relics of industry and settlement. To step into the remains of a hut and sit upon its weathered timbers is to momentarily inhabit another life—that of the bushranger, the forester, or the itinerant wanderer—while the surrounding ranges remind one that the land itself endures, vast and unyielding.

Sony A7RV

FE 70-200mm f2.8 GM

Linking Sunday Best

Tenby Point for Sunday Best

 

Recently, I revisited the complete series of Tenby Point images that Joel and I once attempted in the ultra long-exposure style. Ultimately, we abandoned this approach to photography, as the results often appeared somewhat artificial, lacking the natural authenticity we sought. Nevertheless, this genre—once highly regarded—held a particular fascination prior to the widespread advent of AI-generated imagery.

Tenby Point, situated on the scenic coastline of Victoria, Australia, is renowned for its rugged cliffs, sheltered bays, and abundant marine life. Its natural beauty has long attracted photographers and nature enthusiasts alike, offering vistas of rocky outcrops, gentle surf, and abundant seabirds nesting along the shore.

In our attempts, we frequently had to employ neutral density filters exceeding 15 stops to achieve the extended exposures, which, when combined with an aperture stopped down to f/22, rendered automatic metering impracticable. Consequently, manual focus was an absolute necessity. Upon revisiting these images, I find that they no longer seem so unsatisfactory and possess a subtle charm that had previously eluded us. 

Sony A7RV

FE 70-200mm f2.8 GM

Linking Sunday Best

Abandoned Papermill Factory in Fairfield, Melbourne for Treasure Tuesday

 

The Rise and Fall of the Fairfield Paper Mill: A Forgotten Industrial Giant in Melbourne

Situated in the northeastern suburb of Alphington—often associated with Fairfield—the abandoned paper mill stands as a silent monument to Melbourne’s industrial past. Officially known as the Alphington Paper Mill, this sprawling site once played a crucial role in Australia’s paper manufacturing industry. From its establishment in the early 20th century to its eventual decline and transformation, the paper mill reflects both the city’s economic evolution and the changing values of urban development.

Foundations of Industry

The origins of the Alphington Paper Mill date back to August 1918, when Australian Paper Manufacturers (APM) acquired a tract of land known as “Woodlands” in Alphington. Over the next two years, approximately 1.2 million bricks were laid to construct the facility, and in 1921, the mill officially opened its doors. It quickly became a centerpiece of industrial productivity, marking a new chapter in Australia’s ability to produce paper on a large scale.

The facility saw significant expansion in the 1930s. Notable developments included the installation of a 15-ton turbogenerator in 1932, which provided much-needed power to support growing operations. Additional investments in 1937 further solidified the mill’s position as a leader in Australian manufacturing. A particularly distinctive architectural addition came in 1954 with the construction of the Boiler House, designed by Mussen, Mackay, and Potter. Its curtain wall design was among the first of its kind in Melbourne, symbolizing a new era of modern industrial architecture.

Operations and Community Impact

The paper mill’s influence extended far beyond its towering structures. A dedicated railway siding—known as the APM Siding—was established in 1919, connecting the mill to regional and national rail networks. Coal was delivered daily to fuel the facility’s massive boilers, and finished paper products were efficiently shipped out, supporting industries and consumers across the country.

For decades, the mill provided stable employment for hundreds of local residents, embedding itself into the economic and social fabric of the Alphington and Fairfield communities. Families grew up around the hum of the mill’s machines, and its presence shaped the daily rhythms of life in the area.

Closure and Redevelopment

However, the new millennium brought with it winds of change. In 2008, Amcor—APM’s successor—announced plans to close the mill as part of a strategy to consolidate manufacturing operations in Sydney. The announcement marked the end of an era and signaled a significant loss for the local workforce, with around 90 employees affected by the closure.

Paper and board production ceased by 2012, and in 2013, the site was sold to a consortium of developers. Plans were set in motion to transform the disused industrial complex into a vibrant residential and commercial precinct. Today, the redevelopment envisions a mix of housing, shops, office spaces, and community facilities—an urban village rising from the mill’s industrial bones.

Heritage, Memory, and the Future

Despite its cultural and architectural significance, the Fairfield Paper Mill has not been immune to the pressures of modern development. Heritage advocates pushed to preserve structures like the Boiler House, but in 2017, the decision was made not to grant it official protection. The building was ultimately demolished, making way for new construction.

Still, the legacy of the Alphington Paper Mill lives on. For older residents, it remains a symbol of Melbourne’s industrious past. For newer generations, it serves as a case study in the balance between preservation and progress. While the physical remnants of the mill may have faded, its story continues to shape the character of the community and the land it once occupied.

Sony A7RV

FE 14mm f1.8 GM

Linking Treasure Tuesday

Mural at an abandoned beach resort

 

The once grand mosaic mural, now decayed and abandoned, was, I believe, a vast composition depicting various landmarks of Taipei.

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4 G

Linking Mural Monday

I have returned to diligently addressing the backlog of delayed referrals from last week, and the effort is certainly taking its toll. Over the weekend, Joel was unable to join the planned trip to Pinnacles, having discovered at the last moment that he had a prior commitment to a family dinner. In his absence, I devoted my time to attending to a rather tedious volume of paperwork.

Abandoned Old Gillies Pie Factory in Bendigo, Victoria, Australia for Treasure Tuesday

 

The Old Gillies Pie Factory in Bendigo, Victoria, stands as a testament to the city's rich industrial and culinary heritage. Established in the mid-20th century, this factory was once the heart of a thriving pie-making enterprise that left an indelible mark on the local community.

Origins and Growth

The Gillies Pies brand was founded by three brothers—Les, Alan, and Norm Gillies—who relocated from Charlton to Bendigo following the 1940s drought. They began their venture with a modest bakery on Mitchell Street, gradually expanding their operations to meet the growing demand for their delectable pies. In 1958, the brothers acquired the Black Swan Hotel building, transforming it into a mass production facility. This site would later become known as the Old Gillies Pie Factory.

Community Impact

The factory wasn't just a production site; it became a local institution. The "pie window" at Gillies Corner, their second shop, often saw queues of eager customers winding down the street, drawn by the irresistible aroma of freshly baked pies. At its peak, Gillies Pies employed around 200 people, with retail outlets spreading across Victoria and distribution reaching as far as Melbourne.

Decline and Closure

Despite its success, the company faced challenges in the latter part of the 20th century. Operations eventually ceased, and the factory fell into disrepair, becoming a canvas for graffiti and a spot for urban explorers. In 2016, the last link to the iconic brand was severed when the remaining factory operations in Bendigo were shut down, marking the end of an era.

Preservation Efforts

In recent years, there have been efforts to preserve the legacy of the Old Gillies Pie Factory. Local history enthusiasts have lobbied for the site's restoration, aiming to maintain its "naturally decrepit" state as a nod to its historical significance. These endeavors highlight the community's desire to honour and remember the factory's role in Bendigo's history.

Sony A7RV

Laowa 9mm f5.6

Linking Treasure Tuesday

Flinders Blowhole, Mornington Peninsula for Water H2O Thursday

 

Here are additional photographs captured at Flinders Blowhole, Mornington Peninsula, where I experimented with varying exposure times to capture the sea's motion. The previous week, the weather was rather unsatisfactory, prompting us to venture into more urban settings. Regrettably, we discovered that most abandoned sites had already been transformed into uninviting concrete structures that nobody desires to inhabit.

Joel is planning to attend yet another concert this Friday. His affinity for death metal has been unwavering, despite his persistent attempts over the years to convert my musical preferences to align with his own. Alas, he has not succeeded, as I remain partial to pop and country music, which does not sit well with him. Consequently, our journeys to various photographic locations often descend into silent disputes, with discussions revolving around politics or science.

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4 G

Linking Water H2O Thursday

Abandoned Bradmill Factory, Yarraville, Melbourne for Treasure Tuesday

 

The Bradmill factory, located in Yarraville, Melbourne, has a storied history that spans over seven decades. Established in 1927 as Bradford Cotton Mills in Sydney, the company expanded its operations to Victoria in 19402. By the late 1950s, a new factory was built on Francis Street in Yarraville, and the company rebranded as Bradmill.

At its peak, Bradmill was the largest producer of textiles in Australia, known for its innovative denim production. The factory produced an astounding 36 million square meters of cotton denim annually, enough to wrap the globe. Bradmill's products were renowned for their durability and strength, finding their way into various products, from fire hoses and deck chairs to tents and tarpaulins.

The factory was a hub of ceaseless activity, employing thousands of workers and integrating cutting-edge technologies. Despite facing challenges such as increased competition and inflation in the 1980s, Bradmill thrived on innovation. The company ventured into new export markets and developed pioneering products, attracting global attention.

Bradmill's success was not just due to its technological advancements but also its inclusive and vibrant community. The factory employed a diverse workforce of over 30 nationalities, fostering a culture of unity and warmth. Employees shared lunches, participated in music, sports, and outings, creating cherished memories and lifelong friendships.

However, the rise of global competition and changing market dynamics eventually led to the factory's closure in 2001. Despite its closure, the legacy of Bradmill lives on through urban explorers, artists, and reunions that keep its spirit alive. The site has now been transformed into a new community, Bradmill Yarraville, built on the foundations of this iconic Australian institution.

The Bradmill factory's history is a testament to the power of innovation, community, and resilience. It remains a cherished part of Melbourne's industrial heritage, inspiring future generations with its story of excellence and togetherness.

Sony A7RV

Laowa 9mm f5.6

Linking Treasure Tuesday

The rest of the photographs are in this album Abandoned Bradmill

After enduring several hectic days at the clinic, Joel, too, faced a particularly challenging Monday. Consequently, we engaged in an extended conversation before retiring for the night, which proved to be an excellent opportunity to alleviate our frustrations.

Springvale Lunar New Year Parade (small one) for Treasure Tuesday

 

Early one morning, I accompanied my mother to shop in Springvale. Although I did not intend to participate in any Lunar New Year celebrations, the convenience of the visit made it inevitable. Interestingly, it seems that most of the parades are now organised by Australians. It appears that many Chinese individuals have integrated so thoroughly into Australian society that they have abandoned the cultural heritage they once cherished in which it includes me lol. 

In my youth, I participated in traditional dragon dances, visiting various shops to collect red packets. If a shop owner was hesitant to offer one, I, along with the band, would persist, briefly disrupting their business until they obliged.

Too much energy in the morning. A long day to go!

I enjoyed Vietnamese Pho weekly. 

Sony A7RV

Sigma 17mm f4 

Linking Treasure Tuesday