Erskine falls and Sheoak falls in Lorne for Treasure Tuesday

 

There are coastal towns that invite a visit, and there are those that cultivate a quiet devotion; Lorne belongs unmistakably to the latter. Set along the sinuous edge of the Great Ocean Road, it has long drawn travellers not only for its maritime air and scenic prospect, but for a cultural undercurrent shaped in part by a notable Spanish presence. In former years, the town’s kitchens—some humble, some quietly celebrated—offered dishes such as paella with a fidelity and warmth that made the journey itself feel ritual rather than indulgence.

Yet Lorne’s true distinction lies inland, where the Otway hinterland gathers water, shadow, and stone into a series of falls, each possessing a character as singular as a voice in a choir. Among these, Erskine Falls stands in stately command. Descending in a broad, curtain-like cascade from a considerable height, it exhibits a composure both architectural and grand. The water does not rush so much as declare itself, fanning outward as it falls, its volume and breadth lending it a sense of permanence—an enduring gesture carved into the landscape.

In marked contrast, Sheoak Falls offers a more intimate encounter. Here, the descent is narrower, the flow more restrained, and the surrounding terrain closes in with a kind of contemplative hush. It is a place that rewards patience rather than spectacle, where the movement of water seems less a proclamation than a conversation—soft, persistent, and deeply attuned to its setting.

Returning to the township, the rhythm shifts once more. The coast reasserts itself with the scent of salt and the familiar pleasures of simple fare. Establishments such as The Salty Dog Fish & Chippery have become part of the town’s living memory, offering fish and chips that are less a novelty than a continuity—an unbroken thread between visitor and place, between appetite and the sea.

Thus Lorne presents itself as a study in contrasts harmonised: coastal brightness and forested depth, communal warmth and solitary reflection, abundance and restraint. One may arrive for a meal, or for the promise of a view, yet depart with something less easily named—a lingering sense that landscape, culture, and memory have, however briefly, converged.

Fujifilm Pro2

16-55mm f2.8 

Linking Treasure Tuesday

Gibsons Steps in Great Ocean Road for Sunday Best

 

Along the rugged southern coastline of Victoria, where the land meets the unrelenting swell of the Southern Ocean, Gibsons Steps stands as both a physical descent and an immersion into deep geological time. Set within the broader landscape of Port Campbell National Park, along the famed Great Ocean Road, this location offers a perspective that is rare along this coast: not from above, but from within.

From the roadside, the view is already expansive—an open horizon where sky and ocean merge in shifting tones of blue and grey. Yet it is only when one begins the descent down the carved staircase, cut sharply into the limestone cliff, that the true magnitude of the landscape reveals itself. Step by step, the world above recedes, and the towering escarpments rise around you, enclosing the space with a quiet authority. At the base, the beach stretches wide and firm, often glossed with a thin sheen of water that mirrors the sky, transforming the ground into a reflective plane of light.

The cliffs themselves are the product of immense spans of time. Composed largely of limestone, they originated from the compressed remains of ancient marine life—shells, coral, and sediments that settled on an ocean floor long vanished. Over millions of years, tectonic uplift brought these layers into the open air, only for them to be sculpted anew by wind, salt, and the ceaseless impact of waves. The result is a coastline in constant transformation, where erosion is not merely decay but an act of creation. Cavities deepen into caves, caves open into arches, and arches eventually collapse, leaving solitary stacks that stand offshore like fragments of a forgotten structure.

Among these formations, the towering remnants known as Gog and Magog rise from the sea, detached yet enduring, their surfaces marked by the same forces that will one day return them to the ocean. They are striking not only for their form, but for their impermanence. Here, the landscape resists any illusion of stability; everything is in motion, even when it appears still.

Long before the arrival of European settlers, this coastline was part of the Country of the Kirrae Whurrong people of the Eastern Maar nation. For countless generations, they moved through this environment with an understanding shaped by observation, story, and continuity. The cliffs, shoreline, and ocean were not isolated features but elements of a living system, woven into cultural knowledge and daily life.

The steps themselves carry a more recent human history. Named after Hugh Gibson, a settler who facilitated access down the cliff face, they represent a point where human intervention meets natural form. By carving a path into the escarpment, he transformed what had been a barrier into an entryway, allowing others to encounter the coastline at close range. Yet even this act of access remains subject to the limits imposed by nature. The ocean here is powerful and unpredictable, and the beach is not always reachable. Tides rise, storms reshape the sand, and the cliffs themselves continue to shift.

The wider coastline is often referred to as the Shipwreck Coast, a name that reflects the dangers once faced by vessels navigating these waters. Hidden reefs, strong currents, and sudden changes in weather made this stretch of ocean treacherous, and many ships were lost along its length. Though Gibsons Steps is now a place of quiet visitation rather than peril, it exists within that same environment—one that commands respect as much as admiration.

In the present day, Gibsons Steps has become a place of visual and artistic significance. Its composition is naturally compelling: the vertical sweep of the cliffs, the horizontal expanse of the sea, and the ever-changing interplay of light across water and stone. At low tide, reflections on the wet sand can double the scene, creating a sense of depth and symmetry that translates remarkably well into large-format prints. The textures of rock, the gradations of sky, and the subtle tonal shifts across the landscape lend themselves to enlargement without losing clarity or impact. It is a place where scale matters, where the image seems to demand space to breathe.

Yet beyond its aesthetic appeal, Gibsons Steps offers something more enduring. It invites a slowing of perception, a recognition of processes that unfold far beyond the span of human life. Standing at the base of those cliffs, with the sound of waves echoing against stone, one becomes aware not only of the landscape’s beauty, but of its continuity—its quiet, persistent evolution.

In this meeting of land and sea, history and geology, human presence and natural force, Gibsons Steps becomes more than a destination. It becomes an experience of time itself, rendered visible in rock, water, and light.

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4 G

Linking Sunday Best

Petrified Forest, Great Ocean Road for Skywatch Friday

 

There is a stretch along the Great Ocean Road where the land seems to remember a time before memory itself—where wind, salt, and centuries have conspired to turn the ordinary into something almost mythic. It was there, two years ago, that this frame was taken—not of the ground, though it tempts the eye with its strange relics—but of the sky that presides over it all.

The so-called Petrified Forest is a place that plays tricks on first impressions. At a glance, the formations resemble the fossilised trunks of an ancient woodland, as though a primeval forest had been caught mid-breath and turned to stone. Yet these are not trees at all, but aeolian limestone—pillars sculpted by relentless coastal winds, their forms slowly carved from calcarenite over tens of thousands of years. Each column stands as a quiet record of erosion, rather than growth; subtraction, rather than life.

Geographically, this landscape lies within the Bay of Islands Coastal Park, a lesser-travelled sibling to the more famous Twelve Apostles further east. Here, the coastline is wilder, less curated, and in many ways more honest. The Southern Ocean presses in with a kind of ancient patience, its winds carrying fine grains of sand that have, over millennia, etched these cylindrical forms from what was once compacted marine sediment. The process is ongoing—imperceptible in a human lifetime, yet inexorable.

Historically, the region has long been known to the Gunditjmara people, Traditional Owners of this Country, whose connection to the land stretches back tens of thousands of years. European naming came later, and with it the misinterpretation that gave the “Petrified Forest” its evocative but inaccurate title. Early travellers, encountering the formations without geological context, assumed they were witnessing the remains of a long-extinct forest—an understandable illusion, given their texture and stance.

But in this image, the land recedes into suggestion. The eye is drawn upward, past the stoic columns, into the vast theatre of the sky. Along this southern edge of Australia, the atmosphere often performs with quiet grandeur—layers of cloud stretched thin by oceanic winds, light diffused into soft gradients that seem to hover between clarity and storm. The sky here does not simply sit above the landscape; it defines it. It is the dominant element, the shifting ceiling under which these “fossils” stand as minor notes in a much larger composition.

And perhaps that is the subtle truth of the place: what appears ancient and immutable beneath your feet is, in fact, still in the process of becoming—while the sky, ever-changing and intangible, is what gives the scene its enduring character.

Linking Skywatch Friday

Bay of Islands Great Ocean Road for Water H2O Thursday

 

One of these photographs was taken at the Bay of Islands along the Great Ocean Road. I had not yet found the moment to share it here.

The day itself was fickle — restless skies, passing showers, light that seemed undecided. Rain moved in and out like a shifting curtain, softening the horizon and deepening the tones of sea and stone. It was not the kind of day that promises spectacle.

And yet, in those unsettled hours, something quieter revealed itself. The colours were not the expected blaze of sunset gold and crimson, but cooler, more contemplative hues — silvers, slate blues, and muted violets settling over the coastline. The cliffs stood in solemn contrast against the brooding sky, and the ocean seemed to breathe in a lower register.

Despite the damp and the uncertainty, I was fortunate. The camera caught what the eye almost overlooks: a version of the Bay of Islands that feels less like a postcard and more like a secret — a landscape speaking softly in tones rarely seen.

DJ Mini Pro4

Linking Water H2O Thursday

Great Ocean Road Victoria for Sky watch Friday

 

Not long ago, floodwaters tore through river mouths and bushfires scorched the hinterland along the Great Ocean Road. The news spoke in the language of damage — erosion, closures, blackened ridgelines.

And so I found myself returning to my portfolio of Loch Ard Gorge, searching for the coast as I had known it.

How impossibly green it was.

The cliffs rose in stratified gold and cream, their crowns softened by thick coastal scrub, spilling toward the Southern Ocean in windswept abundance. The grass along the headlands glowed almost luminous against the limestone, and the air seemed clear enough to ring. Below, the sea pressed and withdrew in long turquoise breaths, polishing the narrow beach where history still lingers in the name — a quiet echo of the 1878 shipwreck that gave the gorge its story.

Looking back now, those images feel like fragments of another season — before fire traced the ridges in ash, before floodwater muddied the inlets. In those captured moments, the gorge stands untouched: verdant, resilient, carved by time yet serene in the pause between tempests.

The coast changes, as it always has. But in memory — and in photographs — Loch Ard remains vividly, defiantly green.

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Linking Skywatch Friday

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

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

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

Loch Ard Gorge, Great Ocean Road for Treasure Tuesday

 

Loch Ard Gorge, situated along the Great Ocean Road in Victoria, Australia, is one of the most captivating coastal landscapes in the country. I miss this spot very much. Though windy and rainy most times, the sea is a gift from nature—a powerful, ever-changing presence that both humbles and inspires.

Geologically, the gorge is a testament to the raw force of erosion. Formed from soft limestone laid down 15 to 20 million years ago during the Miocene epoch, the cliffs and sea stacks of this coastline have been sculpted by wind, rain, and relentless wave action. Loch Ard Gorge itself came into being when an underground cave collapsed, leaving behind a narrow inlet framed by towering limestone walls and a hidden sandy beach. This is part of a larger system that includes other famous landmarks like the Twelve Apostles and London Arch—all gradually shaped and reshaped by the sea.

But the gorge holds more than just natural beauty; it carries a poignant human story. In 1878, the clipper ship Loch Ard struck a reef near nearby Mutton-bird Island in heavy fog after a long voyage from England. Of the 54 passengers and crew on board, only two survived—Tom Pearce, a ship’s apprentice, and Eva Carmichael, a young Irishwoman. Their dramatic survival and rescue unfolded within the very gorge that now bears the ship’s name, turning it into a place of both natural wonder and quiet remembrance.

Today, visitors to Loch Ard Gorge can explore trails and lookouts that offer views of the dramatic coastline and read about the shipwreck that gave the site its name. The area also lies within the traditional lands of the Gunditjmara people, whose deep connection to this region stretches back tens of thousands of years.

Standing there, with the wind whipping through the gorge and waves crashing against the cliffs, it’s easy to feel both the immense power of nature and the layers of history it holds. Though often moody with weather, the sea remains a gift—timeless, untamed, and unforgettable.

Linking Treasure Tuesday

Twelve Apostles Great Ocean Road for Skywatch Friday

 

The Twelve Apostles, located along the Great Ocean Road in Victoria, Australia, are one of the most iconic natural landmarks in the country. These towering limestone stacks have captivated visitors for centuries, standing as a testament to the immense geological forces that have shaped Australia’s southern coastline. The formation, composition, and ongoing erosion of the Twelve Apostles reveal a fascinating geological history that continues to evolve over time.

Formation and Composition

The Twelve Apostles were formed approximately 10 to 20 million years ago during the Miocene epoch. They are composed primarily of limestone, which is a sedimentary rock formed from the accumulation of marine organisms such as coral, shells, and microscopic plankton. Over millions of years, these organic materials were compacted and cemented together, creating the limestone formations seen today.

Erosional Processes

The striking stacks of the Twelve Apostles are a direct result of erosion processes driven by the powerful forces of the Southern Ocean. The relentless action of wind and waves gradually carved into the soft limestone cliffs, forming caves that eventually deepened into arches. As the arches collapsed, they left behind the isolated rock stacks known as the Twelve Apostles.

Erosion continues to shape the landscape, with the relentless ocean wearing away at the bases of these limestone stacks. This process not only reduces the size of the existing formations but also contributes to the formation of new stacks as sections of the mainland erode and become isolated.

Changes Over Time

Despite the name, there have never been exactly twelve rock stacks. At the time of European exploration, nine stacks were visible, and as of today, only eight remain due to natural erosion. One of the formations collapsed in 2005, demonstrating the ongoing geological changes in the region. The rapid pace of erosion, estimated at approximately 2 cm per year, suggests that more stacks may collapse in the future, while new ones may emerge as sections of the coastline break away.

Geological Significance

The Twelve Apostles provide valuable insights into past marine environments and climate conditions. By studying the limestone formations, geologists can reconstruct historical sea levels, climate fluctuations, and the evolution of coastal landscapes. Additionally, the site serves as an excellent example of coastal erosion and sedimentary rock formation, making it an important location for scientific research and education.

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4 G

Linking Skywatch Friday

I shall be traveling abroad next week and shall post only intermittently, as time permits.

Great Ocean Road, Victoria for Skywatch Friday

 

The relentless weathering upon these islands and rocks shall, in time, lead to their complete obliteration. The Bay of Martyr is a delightful locale to which I must certainly return in the future.

Linking Skywatch Friday

Childer's Cove for Sunday Best

 

Childers Cove is a small, crescent-shaped beach framed by rugged cliffs and dramatic rock formations. The towering limestone cliffs, reaching up to 70 meters (230 feet) above the turquoise waters, create a natural amphitheater showcasing the raw beauty of the coastline. The beach itself is low and flat, with a shallow bay floor, making it ideal for a leisurely stroll or beachcombing.

The cove holds a poignant history as the site where the wooden barque "Children" was wrecked after striking reefs close to shore in 1839. Despite its somber past, the cove exudes a unique charm, inviting visitors to explore its untouched serenity.

Childers Cove is not just a beach; it's an ecosystem teeming with life. Keep an eye out for inquisitive penguins waddling on the shore, listen to the melodic calls of seabirds soaring overhead, and spot playful dolphins dancing in the waves. The diverse flora, including coastal shrubs, wildflowers, and native grasses, adds to the vibrant backdrop of this scenic sanctuary.

From the golden hues of sunrise painting the cliffs to the dramatic silhouettes at sunset, Childers Cove is a photographer's dream. Capture the raw power of the ocean crashing against the rocks, the playful frolicking of dolphins, or the serene atmosphere of the secluded beach.

Childers Cove is accessible via a well-maintained gravel road located off the Great Ocean Road, near Nullawarre. Limited parking is available near the beach, and toilet facilities can be found at the nearby Murnanes Bay car park. Remember to be sun-safe and bring appropriate footwear for exploring the rocky terrain.

Escape the crowds, breathe in the fresh ocean air, and immerse yourself in the tranquility of this unspoiled paradise. Whether you're a history buff, nature enthusiast, or simply seeking a relaxing retreat, Childers Cove offers something for everyone

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4 G

Linking Sunday Best

Bay of Islands Great Ocean Road for Skywatch Friday

 

Fickle weather at the sea

DJ Mini Pro4

Linking Skywatch Friday

Loch Ard Gorge Sky for Sky Watch Friday

 

Not posting enough from my various trips everywhere. My trips usually do not cost much as I rely on business allowance. 

DJ Mini Pro4 

Linking Skywatch Friday

Hel wrote a wonderful post on Great Ocean Road

Loch Ard Gorge, Great Ocean Road Victoria Australia for Sunday Best

 

Except from local website:

"Loch Ard Gorge is the site of the most famous shipwreck on the aptly named Shipwreck Coast. The Loch Ard ran aground crashing into Mutton Bird Island in 1878. The only two survivors Tom Pearce and Eva Carmichael managed to drag themselves to the safety of the beach inside Loch Ard Gorge. For a moment, these two tragic teenagers were the talk of the English-speaking world, which very much hoped they would marry (they did not). Walk along this sandy beach, dramatically closed in by towering sandstone cliffs. Explore several other short walks in this area including the cemetery where Tom and Eva’s less fortunate shipmates are buried."

I have stopped droning for a few months now. I will be droning in NZ next month. 

DJ Mini Pro4

Linking Sunday Best

Bay of Island, Great Ocean Road Sunset for Sky Watch Friday

 

An area that I would like to visit again.

DJ Mini Pro4

Linking Skywatch Friday

Happy Easter to everyone!

I am doing my mural round in Melbourne today. 

Seascape in Great Ocean Road for Sunday Best

 

The creamy water is giving a good vibe.

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4

Linking Sunday Best

Bay of Martyrs, Peterborough, Great Ocean Road for Sunday Best

 

Golden hour at Bay of Martyrs where historical genocide took place on local aboriginal population. 

Almost every coast I visited was filled with terrible history. Not a good feel walking these trails. 

I am heading to a volcano crater this morning. Also checking out a few limestone caves. Well, I hope I can find them lol.

DJ Mini Pro4

Linking Sunday Best

Bay of Islands, Peterborough, Great Ocean Road for Skywatch Friday

 

My long wait is finally worthwhile. It took me 3 weeks to find this moment. 

DJ Mini Pro4

Linking Skywatch Friday

Tom and Eva on Great Ocean Road for Water H2O Thursday

 

There are just way too many tourists. I could not bother waiting until sunset.

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4

Linking Water H2O Thursday