I found this sign while out on the Otago Peninsula. There’s something about it that seems to say so much about rural life on the Otago Peninsula. It points to roads that feel like they’ve been forgotten about. Where there’s wind-bent grass, broken fence posts and long silences. Occasionally a local passes in a ute with a friendly wave, birds hover over ahead, and the weather changes quickly.
There’s something quietly revealing about standing alone on a long, empty gravel road, rain clouds drifting overhead and snow dusting the distant ranges. It’s the kind of place that either makes you want to turn back quickly or stay a while. When a cool wind lifted my hat and sent it tumbling, I took it as a sign. I sat by a nearby boundary fence and paused for a bit. Besides, I had a flat tyre to deal with, and the boot wasn’t going to unpack itself.
Not far from the ferry terminal in Oban, you’ll find the Kai Kart, quietly serving some of the best fish and chips in the country. There’s nothing fancy, just a caravan cooking great food as the sizzle of fresh blue cod, and the smell of salt fill the air. In fact, according to some reviewers it’s arguably the best fish & chips in the country. Plan for a bit of a line, bring some patience, and a taste for Oban hospitality. Good food, simply done.
Don’t you just love the way this long-exposure shot hums with neon ribbons of light twisting through the night? The wet asphalt from recent heavy rain creates a mirror for the blue and red streaks of passing vehicles turning a quiet street corner into a kind of mystical dream. A lone streetlamp, a tree, a rusted roof, and an empty bus stop stand still and silent amidst the blur of motion. It’s the kind of scene you don’t plan, only discover.
There are numerous street markets in Hong Kong and they don’t come alive till late afternoon, and run deep into the night. They’re a hive of people with all sorts of places to shot and food galore.
I had a bit of post processing editing fun with this view of the Taieri Gorge Railway and the Dunedin Railway lines looking south across the city.
The Maungatua Ranges south of Dunedin on a quiet and peaceful Saturday afternoon, just before sunset.
Out on the Strath Taieri, near Sutton Salt Lake, the wide open spaces feel like stepping into another world. Towers of schist rise from the golden tussock and dry shrub, scattered across a quiet plain. The sky stretches endlessly above, broken only by rolling clouds and the distant Rock and Pillar Range. There’s a stillness with time, shaped by sun, salt, and centuries of erosion. Out here you don’t come for noise or crowds, you come for the textures, the crunch underfoot, and the feeling of standing in sparse, open landscapes.
Much to everyone’s surprise, I didn’t go out chasing the spectacular Aurora Australis show the other night. I simply enjoyed it from my front garden. I was tempted, however I’d already been out and about shooting over most of the weekend and by the time it was hitting, I was nicely settled in for the evening. Lazy I know. I did however capture the tail end of the sunset from Layers Head on the way home. Not quite as stunning as an Aurora, yet full of colour nonetheless.
There’s something really rather peaceful about wandering a city with no real plan, especially on a quiet, chilly Dunedin afternoon. I found myself strolling near the Railway Station, with its imposing grandeur built from basalt and Oamaru stone, when I drifted toward the Law Courts. No destination in mind, just following the quiet.
As a building, I’ve always liked the Law Courts with its dark stone, turrets, and the gothic feel—it’s the kind of architecture that makes you pause. I wandered up to the entrance and read a bit of history from the board out front. Turns out, Dunedin’s first permanent Courthouse and Prison were built here back in 1859, right on a narrow strip of reclaimed land at the foot of Bell Hill. Back then, the harbour came right up to the base of the old jail.
These buildings were part of the first wave of public infrastructure as Dunedin grew from a struggling settlement into a proper town. The current Law Courts and the neighbouring Police Station were designed by Government Architect John Campbell and built between 1895 and 1902.
Funny how a slow walk can take you through history, without even trying. Just you and a cold afternoon breeze.
Then, a few mornings later I found myself chasing a sunrise along the hills on Otago Peninsula not far from Harbour Cone. It was early, painfully early, but as the sky caught fire with orange and crimson, any hint of tiredness vanished. A lone cabbage tree stood silhouetted against the light, like some timeless sentry watching over the land. The harbour below shimmered with colour as the first light of day spread across the hills. That’s the beauty of this place, there’s always something to discover and no two views are ever the same, and each step feels like an adventure.
A while ago, I tackled the steep but stunning walk up Harbour Cone. The path weaved through golden tussock and scattered rocks, the wind at my back for company as I climbed higher. At the top, a brooding sky pressed down over Otago Harbour, dark clouds rolling in like something out of a gothic novel. Below, the fringes of the peninsula reached into the harbour, with bays and inlets nestled quietly along the shoreline. It was all rather stunning, dramatic and very tiring.
While wandering the Dunedin Art Gallery, I stumbled upon an exhibition titled ‘this is NOM*d’, a local fashion label that’s apparently been shaping New Zealand style since 1986. Now I know almost nothing about fashion, both New Zealand’s or anyone else’s—and have even less fashion sense. But somehow, it was fascinating. Of course, I didn’t understand a single thing I was looking at, but I nodded anyway in a profoundly wise manner, as if I always appreciated layered dresses, bright coats and ribbed sleeves that look like they’ve been through a lawn mower.
Behold the passive tide.
On these tranquil waters, lie our reflections of the day.
Solidarity in the afternoon sun, our thoughts gone from us a long while.
Me, I have no opinion o dreamer in this thoughtful moment.
I’ll only stay a short while and you no minute longer, mind lost in experience or wonder.
Did you know you can search for content using the category link?
Click on the category search buttons to find further content related to that category.
Here’s another photo with textures that I finished recently. In fact, it’s technically a re-edit of a photo I posted last year of local pub The Bog (formerly The Royal Albert Hotel and The Albert Arms) which I rather liked when finished with some texture.
Re-editing photos by adding a bit of enhancement via textures is a great way to breathe new life into a photo, it can lift a flat photo or just a fun way to play around with images – as in this case. I believe it has around five or six layers of textures finished with a bit of vignetting before saving.
St Cuthbert’s Church in Luxford Street, Wellington had everything you’d want in a church – a beautiful rimu interior, a nicely tiled roof, a stunning rose window, a bell and a turret for good measure. Unfortunately for the local congregation, it was classified as an earthquake prone building and so was sold and later demolished in 2015, thus ending sixty two years of community service.
However, before it was reduced to rubble several items were saved including the stunning Rose Window that is now on display in Wellington Museum.
This is St Stephens Green, a few days after Christmas on a chilly Dublin afternoon. It almost seems impossible to believe it wasn’t always the manicured Victorian park it is today. In the 17th century, the area was used as land for grazing livestock. It then became a popular dueling spot during the 18th century as men would settle disputes with pistols at dawn in the park. Around this time, public executions including hangings were held in the area while in more recent times the park featured a statue of King George II that had stood since 1758. That was, until it was blown up the day after the coronation of George VI by Irish Republicans in 1937
It was while I was out exploring the tracks around the Hereweka property near Larnach’s Castle that I came across these ruins. I’d spent a good portion of the day walking up and down hills, climbing over and under things, taking wrong turns, stepping over and in sheep poo and generally rather enjoying myself. Before heading home, I came across this derelict building on the Larnach estate. It looked to be an old cottage of some description going by the layout, room sizes and fireplaces, maybe to do with the farm that was operating at the time when Larnach occupied the property. But then again, this is just an assumption. Either way, it was fun to explore and photograph.
I like Melborune, partly because it is very walkable and easy to navigate thanks to all the bridges across the river, but mostly because of the trams. So, when I found myself with a day free of any planned activities, I spent the first part of the day riding trams to random locations I’d never been to before. Following that, I spent the rest of a very pleasant Melbourne day wandering its busy streets and narrow alleyways, admiring the Yarra River, its modern skyscrapers, historic architecture and bustling laneways.
It was while ambling along Swanston Street that I came across this lady who does the most colourful designs with vinyl records. I watched and chatted to her for about 10 minutes as she created new designs that would evolve right before your eyes.
I was going to visit Dunedin’s famous Tunnel Beach when I realised the track is currently closed and has been for the last seven months. Severe rain in October 2024 caused numerous slips and significant damage along the track, forcing its closure until major repairs (including a geotechnical investigation) are carried out. Apparently the Department Of Conservation are now prioritising the restoration in the coming months, making access to the hidden beach possible once again.
Here’s a view of Hoopers Inlet and the rolling hills of Sandymount on the Otago Peninsula for you to enjoy.
Did you know you can search for content using the category link?
Click on the category search buttons to find further content related to that category.
Departing from my usual writing narrative that accompanies my images, I wanted to allow myself to change direction every now and then with posts for something different. So, with that in mind, I thought I’d put up a post about using textures in photos.
If you don’t mind a bit of enhancement in your images, textures are a really fun concept to play around with. When you add textures to photos, you do so via layers. The more textures you want to add to a photo, the more layers you require. I’ve done images with simple two or three layers of textures and more complex images that have over thirty to forty layers on them. Once you know how to add textures to an image, the real trick is knowing when to stop as it’s easy to kill an image with too many textures.
This image of Lake Hayes has around twelve to fifteen layers including some split tones from memory.
Invercargill became a city on the 1st March, 1930. I know this because I read the plaque that was in the Town Hall. I also discovered that when both a new Town Hall and Theatre was needed, local officials decided to combine the two projects – not without controversy. In some quarters, the building of a theatre was viewed as sinful due to religious beliefs while others felt that a theatre should be funded from private investment, not public money. Nevertheless the project went ahead and was officially opened in November of 1906.
It had rained most of the day in Wellington, so I stuck to indoor activities. By early afternoon, I found myself wandering down a wet Willis Street after a slow day of museums and art galleries. The city felt different in the rain, quieter. There was a kind of charm in taking it slow, lingering over art and history while the world outside dripped with rain.
I was strolling along Waterloo Quay one lazy afternoon when I stumbled upon this tucked-away walkway near the waterfront. It wasn’t flashy or polished, just a quiet, open space with old brickwork that had clearly seen a lot of life. The windows were long gone, but their empty frames let the sunlight pour through, casting these beautiful shadows and patches of light that danced along the ground. It had a raw kind of charm with layers of texture and history that told stories of the city’s past life.
One more photo from my phone which I found around the same time as yesterday’s post.
Hong Kong is a sensory rush, especially on a first visit. Start by simply wandering its streets: in the planet’s fourth-densest city, 7.4 million people generate an endless swirl of sights and sounds. Balance that urban energy with a trip to Aberdeen’s floating village, where traditional junks bob beside sleek yachts. After dusk, dive into the night-markets that spring to life in neon alleys, then find a waterfront perch for the Symphony of Lights glittering across Victoria Harbour. Even the airport, a mini-city of its own, feels like part of the adventure. There really is nothing like walking through a city, having no idea where you are, not being able to read the street signs or understanding a word of the local language.
Here’s another photo from my phone, I’d forgotten all about it. I took this in Belfast while on a Black Taxi Tour through some of the city’s historic peace lines and murals. It was both a surreal and profound expereince.
When I was growing up, I couldn’t tell you what all the troubles in Northern Island were about, all I knew was that there were two groups of people who were very angry with each other. This much I was certain about, mainly due to the fact that every so often a news item would appear on television which featured things being blown-up, people getting shot at and lots and lots of fighting. What started all this? Well, I just couldn’t say, but boy did they seem to dislike each other.
So, a number of years later (quite a few actually), when I found myself in Belfast, I took the opportunity to do a Black Taxi Tour. I’d been reliably informed that it was a fascinating way to see many of the historic sites in Belfast that featured in the violent clashes between the British Army and the Provisional IRA. To which, I have to say, it was one of the most eye opening tours I’ve ever done. If you’re ever in Belfast, I’d advise doing a Black Taxi Tour, it really is a fascinating few hours.
It was on this tour that we passed through the Falls district where the Falls Curfew took place. Until that time, I didn’t know what the The Falls Curfew or The Battle of the Falls was. Thus I discovered on a rainy day in Belfast that the Battle of the Falls was a violent clash in July 1970 in Belfast, Northern Ireland, between the British Army and the Provisional IRA in the nationalist Falls Road area. Triggered by an arms search, the army imposed a curfew and launched a large-scale operation, sparking intense gun battles. Four civilians were killed, and hundreds were injured. The incident deepened mistrust between the Catholic community and the British Army, escalating tensions during the early troubles.
Yesterday I mentioned I haven’t posted many photos taken from my phone. Well, so it’s not a one off, here’s one of Wellington Railway Station.
The mid-morning train from Upper Hutt to Wellington had been unusually full for a Thursday. Inside, it felt like a moving collection of private lives, commuters heading into the city, caught in their own little worlds. Some read engrossed, others stared blankly out the window, as if in a trance, the passing hills and suburban streets passing in a blur. Some wore headphones, their expressions blank, detached from the soft clatter of the carriage.
Others appeared restless, they needed somewhere to go, something to do. For others, just movement, just purpose was enough. In this quiet time, nobody had to think too much-it was the in-between hour, the hush before the city’s noise.
When the train finally pulled into Wellington Station, the mood shifted. The doors opened and, like clockwork, everyone disembarked, filtering through the terminal and dissolving into the city, each carrying on with a day that had already quietly begun.
It’s been a while since I’ve taken any photos on my iphone. I forget it’s there, however I remembered about it when I discovered this duck pond fill of autumn colour. It has to be said, the quality of phone cameras and on devices has significantly improved from what they once were. With advancements in lens technology, sensor size and higher-end devices to choose from that offer excellent image quality, they simply continue to get better and better.
However, I was wondering if people have remained using iPhones or have switched over to Android’s phones?
The idea to develop a traditional Chinese garden right in the city had been ruminating around the council officials for some time. Then, in the early 200o’s the idea swung back into life. It wasn’t just about creating a pretty space, it was a way to recognise the Chinese community that had been part of Otago since the gold rush in the 1860s and made a big impact on the region.
The garden was designed in the style of a classic Chinese garden, and to keep it authentic, most of the materials were shipped straight from China, everything from tiles to timber. Then in 2007, around 40 skilled workers came over from Shanghai and built the whole thing by hand, using traditional Ming Dynasty techniques. A tribute to history, heritage, and the bond between cultures.