La La Creek and waterfall for Sunday Best

 

La La Creek is one of those places that seems to reveal a new face every time I return. On the way up to the origin of La La Waterfall, the creek winds quietly through dense foliage, slipping around bends and over rocks, creating little cascades and hidden waterholes along the way.

The waterfall itself is surprisingly tiny—not nearly as impressive as the creek that leads to it. For me, it is the five bends along La La Creek that hold the real magic. Each has its own character: different shapes of rock, little falls, deep pools and ribbons of water threading their way through the forest. I have posted some photographs from here before, but over the years I have taken more than 300 images at this one location. Somehow, I never seem to tire of it.

Photographing these creeks is not easy. Beneath the dense canopy, light is scarce, and the white water can almost disappear into the shadows. I often turn to ultra-long exposures, letting the water gather itself into a single, luminous movement. The individual threads of the falls lose their definition, dissolving into a soft, milky-white veil. What the eye sees as countless little streams becomes, in the photograph, something almost ethereal—a flowing brushstroke of white moving through the darkness of the forest.

Perhaps that is what keeps bringing me back: not the waterfall itself, but the endless shapes and moods of the creek, quietly changing with the light, the seasons and the movement of water over stone.

And, of course, Joel is always beside me, every step of the way. His wife calls me his “man wife,” which, after all these years of wandering together through forests and chasing waterfalls, is probably not entirely inaccurate. 😂

Sony A7RV

FE 50mm f1.2 GM

Linking Sunday Best

Liffey Waterfall, Tasmania for Sunday Best

 

Last Sunday, I mentioned that trip to Tasmania with Joel, some thirteen years ago, when both of us were quietly going through a dip in our lives. It was only four days, travelling across the island on the Spirit of Tasmania with Joel’s car at the time, yet somehow we managed to chase down most of the places we thought were worth photographing.

One of those places was Liffey Falls and the creek.

There was nothing particularly elaborate about that day. We sat among the forest with our rather humble sandwiches—simple food, nothing fancy—and listened to the creek running through the trees. For a while, there was no need to talk about whatever troubles we had carried with us. The forest had its own conversation: water over rocks, leaves moving gently in the breeze, and the quietness of being somewhere far away from everything.

The first photograph is Liffey Falls itself. It looks rather subdued, almost as though the waterfall is holding its breath. That year was marked by drought, and the lack of water was impossible to hide.

The second photograph is a little more complicated. Looking at it now, I can see quite clearly how much I still had to learn. The long exposure blew out the highlights in the rushing water, while the greens were rendered rather strangely by the automatic exposure compensation. It was one of those photographs that probably taught me more through its mistakes than a technically perfect image ever could.

Digital photography was still a different world then. Cameras were nowhere near as forgiving or sophisticated as they are today, and much of what we now correct almost effortlessly had to be anticipated, understood, or simply accepted.

But perhaps that is why I still like these old photographs.

They are not perfect. Neither were we, back then.

We were two friends carrying our own uncertainties through Tasmania, stopping beside waterfalls and creeks, eating simple sandwiches and taking photographs as best we knew how. Looking back thirteen years later, the technical flaws seem almost incidental.

What remains is the sound of the water, the quiet forest, and the memory of having someone beside you while life was not quite going according to plan.

Canon 5D

FE 14mm f2.8 

Linking Sunday Best

Buderim falls Queensland for Black and White Community

 

Buderim is blessed with a collection of small waterfalls hidden among the lush rainforest of southeast Queensland, each with its own quiet character. This particular cascade demanded a little patience. Tucked into the corner of a tranquil waterhole and partially guarded by a large boulder, it offered only a narrow vantage point from which to compose the scene.

What first appeared to be an awkward obstacle gradually revealed itself as the photograph's greatest strength. The weathered rock, the silky ribbon of falling water, the still pool, and the surrounding foliage unfolded in gentle layers, each drawing the eye deeper into the frame. It is these natural layers that lend the image both depth and harmony, transforming a modest waterfall into a rewarding subject for photographers willing to slow down, observe, and let the landscape reveal its quiet elegance.

Sony A7RV

FE 16-35mm f2.8 GM

Linking Black and White community

Fukuroda Falls (袋田の滝) for Black and white community

 

Reaching Fukuroda Falls (袋田の滝) was itself an adventure. The journey demanded patience: hours spent threading through Tokyo's intricate railway network, changing trains, boarding local buses, and finally relying on the guidance of a local guide who knew the winding roads and hidden corners of northern Ibaraki. By the time the waterfall revealed itself, the pilgrimage felt entirely justified.

I had forgotten to bring a tripod, a photographer's trusted companion for moving water. Yet sometimes limitations offer their own gifts. The falls thundered down the dark rock face with such force that the fast shutter speeds froze every surge and splash into crystalline detail. Later, when converted into black and white, the images seemed less like photographs and more like old engravings, capturing the raw architecture of water itself.

Known as one of Japan's Three Great Waterfalls, Fukuroda Falls plunges some 120 metres in height and 73 metres in width over four distinct tiers. For centuries, poets, monks, and travellers have stood before its immense curtain of water, awed by its changing moods through the seasons. In spring, fresh green leaves soften the surrounding gorge. Summer brings cool mist that drifts through the valley. Autumn sets the hills ablaze with crimson and gold maples, while winter transforms the cascade into a frozen cathedral of ice.

Long before tourists arrived with cameras and guidebooks, these valleys were home to communities who lived alongside the Kuji River and the forested mountains that cradle the falls. The surrounding region has sustained generations through forestry, agriculture, and fishing, while mountain ascetics once ventured into these remote landscapes seeking spiritual enlightenment amid the sound of rushing water. The waterfall itself became a place of contemplation, where the immense force of nature encouraged reflection on life's impermanence.

Standing before Fukuroda Falls, one senses both geological and human time. The water has carved its path through ancient rock for millennia, indifferent to the passing centuries. Around it, generations of travellers have come and gone, leaving behind only memories, sketches, poems, and photographs. My own images, rendered in monochrome, seem to belong to that tradition. Stripped of colour, they reveal the waterfall's timeless character: water, stone, mist, and gravity locked in an endless conversation that began long before any road, railway, or camera existed.

Panasonic G9

Leica 12-60mm f2.8-4

Linking Black and white community

Serenity falls Sunshine Coast for Water H2O Thursday

 

Serenity Falls lay hidden like a secret whispered between the trees, deep within the folds of South East Queensland. Joel and I arrived not so much as visitors, but as seekers—drawn by the quiet promise of water, stone, and light. We wandered until our legs ached and our breaths grew shallow, chasing every sunlit corner that seemed worthy of memory, every fleeting composition that begged to be held still.

The forest seemed endless that day, each turn revealing another scene more delicate than the last—ferns trembling in filtered light, water slipping over rock as though time itself had softened. We were exhaustive, relentless in our pursuit of beauty, as though the landscape might vanish if we failed to notice it fully.

And yet, there was this one frame—this single, suspended moment—that I kept for myself. Perhaps because it held something quieter, something less performative. Not made for the passing scroll, but for remembrance. Serenity Falls, in that instant, was not just a place we explored—it was something we almost understood, but never quite captured.

---

Informative Overview

Serenity Falls is a lesser-known but visually striking waterfall located within the Springbrook National Park in South East Queensland. The park itself forms part of the ancient Gondwana Rainforests, a UNESCO World Heritage-listed system known for its exceptional biodiversity and geological history.

Location and Access

Serenity Falls sits within the Springbrook plateau region, inland from the Gold Coast. While not as prominently signposted as major attractions like Purling Brook Falls or Natural Bridge, it is typically accessed via walking tracks branching from established circuits such as the Twin Falls Circuit or Warringa Pool Track. These trails range from moderate to occasionally strenuous, with uneven terrain, stairs, and sections that can become slippery after rain.

Geological Formation

The waterfall is part of the eroded remnants of the Tweed Volcano, one of the largest shield volcanoes in the Southern Hemisphere, active around 23 million years ago. Over millennia, watercourses carved through layers of basalt and rhyolite, creating steep escarpments and narrow घाट-like valleys. Serenity Falls exemplifies this process, cascading over rock ledges shaped by differential erosion.

Hydrology and Seasonal Variation

Like many waterfalls in the region, Serenity Falls is highly dependent on rainfall. During the wet season (typically November to March), the falls can become powerful and dramatic, with increased flow and mist formation. In drier months, the cascade may reduce to a gentler trickle, revealing more of the underlying rock structure and allowing closer inspection of the geological layers.

Ecology

The surrounding environment is characterised by subtropical rainforest, including species such as:

• Antarctic beech remnants in cooler pockets
• Hoop pine and brush box trees
• Dense understories of ferns, vines, and mosses

The area supports diverse fauna, including:

• Eastern water dragons near creek lines
• Various frog species, particularly active after rainfall
• Birdlife such as the Albert’s lyrebird and whipbirds

The microclimate around the falls—cool, humid, and shaded—supports specialised plant communities, including lichens and moisture-dependent epiphytes.

Cultural and Recreational Context

Springbrook National Park is part of the traditional lands of the Yugambeh people, who maintain deep cultural connections to the landscape. While Serenity Falls itself is less formally interpreted, the broader region holds significance in Indigenous heritage and storytelling.

From a recreational perspective, the falls appeal to:

• Photographers seeking less crowded compositions
• Hikers interested in quieter trails
• Visitors looking for immersive, less commercialised natural settings

However, access requires caution:

• Tracks can be steep and poorly marked in sections
• Weather conditions can change rapidly
• Swimming, if attempted, should be approached carefully due to submerged hazards and variable water depth

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4 G

Linking Water H2O Thursday

Lal Lal Waterfall near Ballarat Victoria for Sunday Best

 

In the soft golden haze of late afternoon, the dam stretches across the countryside south of Ballarat, its still waters reflecting clouds that drift lazily overhead. This reservoir, cradled by gentle slopes and scattered eucalypts, holds the quiet power of seasons captured in liquid form, a resting heart for the land, calm and contemplative under the sun. The embankments rise with deliberate strength, a testament to human effort, shaping nature’s flow into something that sustains both people and place.

Follow the river’s path east, where the land tilts and basalt cliffs bear the marks of ancient fire, and you reach the Lal Lal Falls. Once, these waters thundered over jagged rocks, leaping with joy into the valley below, their voice echoing for miles. The cliffs, dark and volcanic, framed a curtain of white, a spectacle that drew both awe and reverence. Today, the falls are quiet, their basin largely dry, water reduced to a meandering thread. Yet even in stillness, the scene hums with memory — of rains that poured, of currents that danced, of seasons long passed.

Together, the reservoir and the falls tell a story of time, of human shaping and natural endurance. The calm of the dam mirrors the sky, serene and reflective, while the muted waterfall whispers of vitality once unbridled. In this landscape, past and present converge — in rock and water, in light and shadow, in the hush that follows the roar.

DJ Mini Pro4

Linking Sunday Best

Flinders Blowhole Melbourne for Treasure Tuesday

 

I haven’t visited this place for some time, and yet Flinders Blowhole at Cape Schanck greets me as though no days have passed. The rugged coastline stretches in quiet defiance against the ceaseless surge of the Southern Ocean, and in the distance, a solitary, large rock rises like a sentinel over the restless waters. Each wave that rushes forward tumbles over its surface, forming a miniature waterfall that never ceases, a constant, shimmering cascade that mirrors the relentless heartbeat of the sea.

As the sun leans toward the horizon, the golden hour bathes everything in its tender, amber glow. The light catches each droplet, turning spray into scattered sparks, and sets the rock aglow with a warmth that belies the ocean’s chill. Shadows lengthen across the sand and jagged cliffs, and the sound of the surf—deep, rhythmic, and insistent—fills the air with a meditative cadence.

There is a quiet poetry in the way nature balances motion and stillness here: the steadfast rock, the ever-moving water, the sky’s fleeting palette of gold and rose. Each moment feels suspended, as if time itself slows to honor the simple, profound beauty of the scene. I linger, drawn by the hypnotic rhythm of waves and light, feeling both small and infinite in the embrace of Cape Schanck’s wild, luminous edge.

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4 G

Linking Treasure Tuesday

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

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

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

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

Taiwan blue magpie (Urocissa caerulea) mural for Miural Monday

 

At the base platform before the majestic Wulai Waterfall in Taipei, Taiwan, lies a magnificent mural sprawling across the ground—an artistic tribute both vast and intricate. Capturing its entirety proved a formidable challenge for me, given my modest stature. Yet what truly arrests the eye is the splendid depiction of Taiwan’s national bird, the Formosan Blue Magpie (Urocissa caerulea), rendered in vivid and graceful detail.

Known locally as the "long-tailed mountain lady" (長尾山娘), the Taiwan Blue Magpie is an endemic species celebrated for its striking cobalt plumage, elongated tail, and gregarious nature. These birds, often seen in social groups, inhabit the broadleaf forests of Taiwan’s mid-elevation mountains, where their intelligent behavior and bold presence have become symbols of vitality and resilience. In both indigenous lore and modern Taiwanese identity, the magpie holds an esteemed place, embodying a connection between the island’s natural beauty and cultural heritage.

The mural, in its grand design, captures not merely the form but the very spirit of this emblematic bird, echoing the lush canopies and mist-laden cliffs that surround Wulai. It is a tableau where nature, art, and national pride converge—a challenge to photograph, perhaps, but an indelible memory to behold. 

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4 G

Linking Mural Monday

Lamington National Park Queensland for Sunday Best

 

Lamington National Park is a place I feel compelled to return to — not merely in passing, but with the attentiveness it rightly deserves. On my last visit, circumstances allowed only the faintest impression of its grandeur. A series of storms had rendered much of the park inaccessible: roads were closed, trails impassable, and several of its most cherished locations had been entirely shut off to visitors.

Notably, the renowned waterfall — long a favourite among wanderers and naturalists — had also been cordoned off, its path rendered unsafe by flood damage. Thus, what was intended to be a day of exploration and renewal became, in essence, a six-hour round journey for little more than a glimpse beyond the gates.

It was a sobering reminder of nature’s dual aspect — both sanctuary and force. Lamington, after all, is no mere patch of wilderness. Nestled within the ancient remnants of the Gondwana Rainforests of Australia, it is home to a vast array of flora and fauna, many of which are found nowhere else on Earth. Giant strangler figs, prehistoric Antarctic beech trees, and elusive species like the Albert’s lyrebird dwell within its misted valleys and forested plateaus.

Established in 1915 and inscribed as a World Heritage site, the park holds not only ecological significance but cultural memory — having been long traversed and cared for by the Yugambeh people, whose deep knowledge of the land predates our maps and boundaries.

That my journey yielded so little, at least in the outward sense, was not a loss entirely. It served as a quiet testament to the park's wild integrity — that it cannot, and should not, be summoned at will. Like all places shaped by ancient time and living weather, Lamington must be approached with patience, humility, and a readiness to wait for its invitation.

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4 G

Linking Sunday Best

The Roman, Mayan, French, Habsburg, Ottoman, Romanov, Iranian, and Soviet dynasties each met their decline through the folly of decadent rulers who divorced themselves from reality, squandered the wealth of their realms, and withdrew into echo chambers wherein truth and falsehood became indistinguishable.

Hopetoun Waterfall Beech Forest for Water H2O Thursday

 

Hopetoun Falls, located within the verdant Beech Forest region of Victoria, Australia, is a remarkable natural landmark renowned for its single-span cascade, which makes it an exceptional subject for long-exposure photography. I first visited this magnificent waterfall over ten years ago, and since then, it has remained one of my most cherished photographic locations. The falls descend gracefully through a steep gorge, surrounded by lush temperate rainforest dominated by ancient myrtle beech trees (Nothofagus cunninghamii), which contribute to the forest’s rich biodiversity and striking beauty.

The approach to Hopetoun Falls requires a gentle 30-minute walk along a well-maintained trail, winding through dense ferns and towering tree trunks that evoke the area’s long geological and ecological history. Over the past two decades, I have documented the falls extensively, noting significant changes in the environment, such as the increased accumulation of large fallen logs at the base of the cascade—remnants of the forest’s natural cycles of growth and decay. My earliest photographs, taken before these changes became pronounced, reveal a clearer, more unobstructed view of the water’s powerful descent.

The Beech Forest itself holds great natural heritage significance, forming part of the Great Otway National Park, an area that preserves ancient ecosystems that have persisted for millions of years. This forest and waterfall not only offer stunning scenery but also represent a vital refuge for numerous native species, making Hopetoun Falls a site of both scenic and ecological importance. Despite its popularity and the increasing number of visitors, which sometimes detracts from the tranquil atmosphere, Hopetoun Falls remains a timeless and inspiring symbol of Australia’s unique natural heritage.

Pentax K10D

DA 14mm f2.8

Linking Water H2O Thursday

Shifen Waterfall, Taipei for Sunday Best

 

Shifen Waterfall is indeed a breathtaking spot! The walk to the area, surrounded by lush greenery, makes the journey just as enjoyable as the destination. The vibrant nature enhances the experience, creating a serene and refreshing atmosphere.

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4 G

Linking Sunday Best

Wulai Waterfall, Taipei, Taiwan for Water H2O Thursday

 

Wulai Waterfall, situated in the verdant mountains of northern Taiwan, is a popular destination for both locals and travelers seeking a serene retreat from the hustle and bustle of Taipei. Wulai is just outside the Taipei district, with easy access by rapid transport, making it an ideal day trip for those looking to immerse themselves in nature without venturing too far from the city.

During my visit, the weather was rather disappointing. It should have been sunny, but instead, the skies turned stormy intermittently. Despite the unpredictable showers, the sight of the waterfall cascading down the cliffs, surrounded by mist and lush greenery, created an almost mystical atmosphere that made the trip worthwhile.

One of the highlights of the Wulai region is its charming old street, where vendors sell an array of local delicacies. Among them, I particularly enjoyed the mountain pig sausage — a savory and smoky treat that perfectly complemented the rustic setting. The flavors, unique to this region, added a special touch to the experience.

Beyond the culinary delights, what makes Wulai so special is the easy access to nature. The towering trees, rushing river, and distant calls of wildlife provide a welcome escape from urban noises. As you wander through the trails and listen to the waterfall’s roar, you are reminded of how refreshing it is to step away from city life and reconnect with the natural world.

Though the weather did not fully cooperate, Wulai still left me with lasting impressions — a blend of scenic beauty, cultural flavor, and peaceful solitude that’s hard to find so close to a major metropolis.

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4 G

Linking Water H2O Thursday

Shi Fen Waterfall for Water H2O Thursday

 

Shi Fen Waterfall holds a special place in my heart, as I have visited it over the span of 25 years—first a quarter-century ago, then a decade ago, and now once more. Over time, the site has undergone numerous changes, including periods when access to the foothill of the falls was prohibited.

During my visit, I took great pleasure in strolling through the surrounding landscape, immersing myself in its beauty, and observing the majestic cascade of the waterfall. However, on this occasion, I did not bring a tripod, which prevented me from capturing proper long-exposure photographs.

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4 G

Linking Water H2O Thursday

Ingalalla Falls for Water H2OThursday

 

This is one of the rare waterfalls in Southeast Adelaide. After much effort, Joel and I finally arrived at the site, only to discover a stagnant pond with no visible outlets near the waterfall. The air was heavy with the stench of decay, and swarms of mosquitoes hovered above the water. Disgusted by the scene, Joel refused to remain for a long exposure shot of the waterfall.

Despite the unpleasant conditions, I chose to capture the image nonetheless, as a testament to the effort it took to reach this secluded place.

Sony A7RV

FE 20-70mm f4 G

This is linking Water H2O Thursday

Fengjia night market Signs for Sign2

 

Clams bake and grill Sign

This sort of game is popular in Asia

Calamari roast 

Strolling through a night vendor market is not particularly conducive to weight loss. However, I take great pleasure in wandering through such places, camera in hand, with my wide-angle lens capturing the lively atmosphere. To avoid the incessant nuisance of scam calls, I make use of a different SIM card while abroad.

Despite my travels overseas, Joel remains in regular contact with me via Signal. He appears rather enthusiastic about the prospect of starting his own podcast, though I sincerely hope he does not. His intensely private nature is well-founded, and only a true friend could engage with his perspectives without passing judgment.

Street photography serves as a sport for me, and as such, my frames often include various signs encountered along the way. 

Sony A7RV

FE 14mm f1.8 GM

Linking Sign2

I am currently enjoying the third season of The White Lotus and have reached the fourth episode. Additionally, I am planning an overnight trip to Shifen, a region renowned for its picturesque waterfall and vibrant night market. However, as my mobile plan is limited to only one gigabyte of data per month, I must rely on public Wi-Fi to access the blog.