Aurora australis, captured 1 December 2023
Aurora australis, captured 1 December 2023
Aurora Australis, captured 11 May 2024
Late Spring rains in the Wheatbelt have a distinct smell. With it comes the threat of thunderstorms that can damage crops with heavy rain, hail and fires started by lightning. There is nothing you can do but watch and hope for the best.
“The heavens do not merely break; they exhale. Here, the landscape is caught in a silvered breath, where the earth reaches up to meet the descending shroud of the storm. It is a quiet erasure—a moment where the solid world surrenders its edges to the soft, rhythmic persistence of the rain. There is a profound stillness in this turbulence, a reminder that even the most fleeting of storms leaves a permanent mark upon the soul of the land.” -Anonymous
This image is dedicated to all those people who live and work in the rural areas of our state, and in particular, the many volunteers who risk their lives fighting fires. Every day people helping each other in a time of need. This is what our great country is built on. As one of the local fire fighting units was returning from putting out a fire started by lightning, they flashed their lights as they went past. As luck would have it, I had my shutter open.
Somewhere off the south west coast of Western Australia, 27 June 2016.
Read the full story from this day here.
2 Feb 2015 – After a week of amazing electrical storms, I went out to a local spot near my home to catch what was potentially the last of the storms. I got quite a few average shots, but this one was literally the last image of the night. And my favorite. It was so close and so loud that it actually made me duck for cover. Needless to say the drive home was done on adrenaline.
The view from Mount Dale, Western Australia, looking westward towards the coast, on a cold August afternoon.
On the morning of 27 June, 2015, a large swell was predicted to hit the south west coastline of Western Australia, so I packed my camera gear into my car and headed south the night before, arriving just after midnight. There was a bitterly cold wind blowing in off the hills behind me and even in the darkness, I could hear the larger than average swell as it crashed into the rocks below the carpark where I was camped. The following morning I was able to get this image of Canal Rocks to my north.
Read the full story behind the day I captured this image here.
One of my favourite places in the wheatbelt region of Western Australia is Lake Brown, Nungarin.
When I look at this image, I can hear the sound of silence. It is an overwhelming feeling that comes over you when you are surrounded by the vastness of the Australian landscape. Even though that silence is punctuated by the low rumple of distant thunder and the occasional fly buzzing past one’s head, there is a weighty stillness that bears down on you. It is both peaceful and unnerving at the same time.
There is a certain nervous expectation when waiting to capture lighting on camera-a fine line between anticipation and surprise-when the darkness erupts with a paroxysm of energy so sudden that it is hard to contain your emotion.