I drove past fence lines and farm gates that looked like they hadn’t swung open in years. Beyond, sheep grazed quietly on the wide flats, ringed by dark hills and ominous peaks still holding snow. The wind moved in soft gusts, bending the grass in the afternoon sunshine that filled the valley.
I hadn’t allowed myself nearly as much time to explore the beginning of the Routeburn Track as I would have liked, however the day was quickly marching on. I left the Routeburn and headed towards the Paradise Forest located in the Paradise Valley. I eventually reached Diamond Lake and from there, I continued on a way until I reached the Paradise Valley and the beech forest I had been aiming for. To fans of ‘The Lord of the Rings’ the forest is also known as Lothlorien, realm of the Elves.
The next morning was bright, clear and I was heading in a northwesterly direction and the start of the Routeburn Track. Situated in Mount Aspiring National Park and having been a formal recreational tramping track since 1964, while I had no intention of walking the track I had made up my mind to at least wander along the track for a bit and have a wee lookaround.
The scale of the Routeburn Track is relatively small by international standards (33 km / 20.5 miles). Yet, what it lacks in length, it makes up for in spectacular scenery, dramatic landscapes, lush forests, and panoramic mountain views. The track just wraps you up in tranquillity and overwhelms you with towering peaks and sweeping valleys. Walking the track you find yourself in a constant state of awe and amazement. I wish I’d allowed myself more time but alas time was against me.
I arrived in Glenorchy and parked at the information centre. I’d hoped to have a rummage through the brochures and maps that I assumed would be on display, but I was later than expected and I found to my annoyance that it was already closed. Instead, I went for a wander around the nearby streets, looking for nothing in-particular. Afterwards, I ambled down to the lake, perhaps 400 metres away (500 yards) and onto the wharf that stretched out over the lake. The place was quieter than I’d been expecting and apart from the occasional campervan passing by, I mostly had the place to myself. I strolled to the end of the pier and stood looking out across the lake. The cold front that had earlier brought wind and rain had passed, leaving a moody, atmospheric feeling hanging over the town and lake as the daylight vanished. It was all very lovely in a mirky, gloomy sort of away.
Feeling content, I started to make my way back to my car when it suddenly dawned on me that I hadn’t yet found a place to stay. On the walk down to the lake I remembered seeing a sign for a Lodge with the word ‘vacancies’ in large letters, I made my way there now and hoped they’d be both a bar and restaurant, as it occurred to me I was really rather hungry!
The road to Glenorchy followed the eastern edge of Lake Wakatipu for 46 kilometers (28 miles). Two or three times I stopped in laybys and lookouts and went to the edge to stand hopefully in the murky gloom, knowing there was a lake out there, sure that I’d get blown into it at any moment. The wind and rain was everywhere – and coming from every possible direction. It seemed impossible to find a location that was both sheltered and safely away from the road side as campervans, tour buses and recreational vehicles hurriedly came to and from various places on the lake, looking decidedly unimpressed with the weather. Some time previously, I had bought an overpriced cup of coffee from one of those roadside caravans, so I sat in my car sipping coffee waiting for a break in the weather. The nearby mountains echoed in the moody atmosphere while storm clouds continued to roll in. I’d really been looking forward to the drive from Queenstown to Glenorchy. I sat in my car listening to the wind continuing to whip up the lake, only adding to the sense of drama. For the life of me, I couldn’t decide if I was happy I was driving into it or not!
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.
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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.
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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.