Tag Archives: photography

Unofficially sunrise

   After spending the last week working in Melbourne it felt good to hit the road last night for the return trip to Sydney. As I approached the midway point near Albury I watched the sun set in glorious pink fluff though my rear vision mirror and purple haze up front. Tempting as it was to stop and take some snaps I restricted my stops to short coffee topups at many a roadside service centre. I should have stopped around 11pm as the coffee was no longer keeping my awareness levels up, but the sight of the clear sky and stars prompted me to continue to Gundagai where I hoped I might try some sky photography. Shortly before 1am I arrived at Gundagai lookout. It was bitterly cold and windy but my mind was made up – here’s a few results!
   The orange glow in the sky was not visible to my cold, watery eyes. It’s roughly in the east, so I’m guessing that’s what sunrise looks like 4 or 5 hours before it becomes official. I persisted for close to an hour before my brain demanded sleep. Drove down to a little park in Gundagai packed with nomads in their RVs, climbed into the back of the car, and slept through the sunrise official.




Silverband Falls

At Silverband Falls, Grampian Ranges VIC

At Silverband Falls, Grampians National Park

The room without books

   They say a house without books is like a room without windows, and a room without books like a body without a soul; they being Horace Mann and Marcus Tullius Cicero respectively, or conversely Marcus Tullius Cicero and Horace Mann temporally speaking, neither of whose books I ever got around to reading by the way, nor is it likely I ever will, since a room without books–call me soulless–can’t be a room with a window and a house with books at the same time. So next time you can’t put a book down spare a thought for those of us who can’t tear ourselves away from the window.

Room without books

Room without books

I’m cactus

Before and after shots of this cactus flower at my front door–the former as I left for work today, and the latter on return–could just as easily be selfies of me. Next time I tell someone I’m cactus, I’ll know what I mean.

Journal entry – Glenelg River to Big Desert, and Silo Art

   I’d like to take this opportunity to introduce J, my new travelling companion.

J on Moonah Track, Big Desert Wilderness Area

J on Moonah Track, Big Desert Wilderness Area

   At the time of this photograph—approaching sunset, 3 Jan 2017—J was not travelling anywhere, and it won’t take a seasoned 4WD veteran to see why. We did feel some trepidation with the sand becoming softer and deeper as we progressed, and did consider turning back a couple of times before getting stuck in this predicament, but since it was getting late and my camping site guide had promised me that a conventional 2WD could traverse Victoria’s Big Desert Wilderness Park to the Casuarina Campground where I had decided at the last moment to spend the night, I was not about to let my growing fear of the unknown dictate that I turn and retreat—“J is a 4WD… we can do this,” I foolishly fooled myself. In hindsight it would have been sensible to weigh up some of the extenuating factors: I was carrying no tyre gauge, no air compressor, no recovery kit, and I was following my sat-nav directions rather than the directions in the camping site guide. Indeed, there are two roads in and my sat-nav put me on the road that a conventional 2WD can’t traverse.
   I started letting air out of the tyres but, not having done this before, did not know what the recommended 18PSI might look like on a tyre sunk in sand in the absence of a gauge. I feared I might further complicate my situation so resigned to calling Emergency – 000, the only number I could call from here.

Call details
Outgoing 5m8s 03/01/2017 19:56
Outgoing 10m35s 03/01/2017 19:37
Outgoing Not connected 03/01/2017 19:34
Outgoing Not connected 03/01/2017 19:34
Outgoing 3m49s 03/01/2017 19:29

   Shortly after 11pm that night I had arrived at Casuarina Campground, with assistance from an out-of-town police officer and local farmer. One of the tyres was almost completely flat when we arrived, and another was sitting mangled in the spare wheel compartment after it popped off the rim along the way. The campground was empty, so the local farmer returned in the morning to re-inflate my tyres and I followed him back to Patchewollock along the safe track.
   The whole experience was extremely embarrassing, and I owe a huge debt of gratitude to Roger and Irene for extracting me from the danger I had foolishly placed myself in, and to Kevin at Patchewollock Rural Supplies who gave J a checkup at no cost before we limped off to Mildura on three standard wheels and one undersized space saver to have my damaged tyre replaced and wheel refitted.
   I will know in future exactly how to be prepared and what to do if I encounter sand like this again, and since there is always a bright side that will be it, but if I had done a one day 4WD course when I bought J the bright side would have been Casuarina Campground with me with my feet up watching the sun set, and this would have been a journal about the day starting beside Glenelg River at sunrise with beautiful birdsong,

then setting out for the Silo Art trail through Sheep Hills,

Sheep Hills silos

Sheep Hills silos

Brim silos

Brim silos

and Patchewollock
Patchewollock silo

Patchewollock silo

via a dry Albacutya Lake boat ramp to boat ramp track crossing
Albacutya Lake

Albacutya Lake

topped off with an exciting sandhill adventure. They say you live and you learn. If you haven’t taken the appropriate precautions it’s ‘If you live, then you learn.’

How I became a street photographer

   Two young men inspect a batch of sunset photos that one of them has just taken with his smartphone, thoroughly oblivious to the fact that they are blocking the view that it took me half an hour to compose and another half hour to wait for. I exchange knowing headshakes of disbelief with the grey nomad couple beside me who have been sipping white wine and observing my careful tripod and camera adjustments all this time.
   Later, I congratulate myself for taking their inconsiderate behaviour into my stride and choosing to view them as meaningful parts of my landscape, however unpeopled I often prefer my public spaces to be.

As concerns: a thunder and light painting

As concerns