What's New in May 2016
LARGE Format - Suitable for enormous prints metres wide
Autumn this year brought both colourful foliage and terrible sadness to our world. On the photographic front I managed a trip north, attempting to capture those golden hues at Mt Wilson in the Blue Mountains and also country New South Wales. The trees were alive with vibrant shades. By pure chance I happened upon a scene in the farmland surrounding Kosciuszko National Park where an old leaf strewn road lead between towers of yellow. A grand find, all the more exciting for being unexpected.
Trees were something of theme on this adventure. I found some sugar pines, a local feature of the area I drove through, that I'd not seen before. They looked glorious in the setting sunlight. I love pines. There's something magical about a forest of them. The pine scent, the soft needles underfoot, the quiet voice of the wind, an enclosing sense of peace. It's almost spiritual.
Further north I returned to the Warrumbungles intent on capturing Crator Bluff, a peak that had eluded me on previous trips. Arriving near midnight I hiked in through the dark to avoid carrying camping gear as well as my heavy photography kit. Familiarity with the track boosted my confidence, or possibly it was the biting cold making me walk faster.
In any case I arrived at the Grand High Tops well before dawn, the huge shape of Crator Bluff just visible in the moonlight. I set my alarm, and lay down to sleep on the rocks, trying to find a flat bit out of the wind. It's amazing how easy it is to drift off even so far some the comforts of our daily lives.
Sunrise brought with it two scenes that demanded my attention equally. I'd already prepared my Crator Bluff composition by torch light so I worked that as a soft rosy glow gradually illuminated it, the fast moving clouds reflecting the pink light. However, on the opposite horizon The Bread Knife was shaping up dramatically, all it needed was some direct sunlight. The answer became clear when the clouds departed. Happy I'd captured the bluff at its best, I shifted focus to the knife, and watched in amazement as it was spot lit by shafts of light penetrating the morning haze.
As much as I enjoyed the trip, returning home I found things had changed for the worse. My father, who had been fighting cancer for some years, wasn't faring well, and before the week was out he had tragically passed away. I'm not sure this is the place to speak of such things, but he was such an overwhelming positive influence on mine and our family's lives that it would seem amiss not to shout it from the roof tops.
Dad I love you and always will! You were the greatest of fathers, a true gentleman. All those hikes we shared together will remain the finest memories of life. I thank you whole heartedly for being so giving of your time and your love. May the light shine upon you always.
And on that note, dear readers, I bid you goodnight.
Left: Dad sadly passed away in his 85th year.