new south wales

Blayney NSW With The Fuji GFX50R

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School holidays brought with it a roundtrip out to visit relatives in the Blayney region of NSW. A three-hour drive from Sydney, Blayney is a true NSW country town with wide streets and good eats (as the extra few kilograms I packed on will attest). It’s also a close base to head out to the larger towns of Orange and Bathurst.

Pretty dry with the big blue skies country Australia is famous for. Come canola season and I imagine the area will look quite different.

Something that struck me immediately is how dry it was out there at the moment. This region of NSW hasn’t had much rain, so much of the landscape was a washed out yellow colour. There were several grass fires that started up while we were there. Come rainfall and the change in seasons, and this will shift again.

I was quite taken with the wind farms in the region. I’ve always found them quite mysterious. When you are parked up right underneath one of the superstructures, they make the most odd, unsettling noise. It’s quite something. There are more out here than I remember from visiting before, with the improved infrastructure and roads to match.

There are plenty of wind farms out this way. You can get quite close to some of them. The late-afternoon light really worked here.

Here’s another wind farm scene closer to sunset. I especially like the way the dust and insects are lit up by the backlight.

The photos I came back with from this trip are interesting because they definitely appear to be quite subtle. I think that’s the direction I’m headed in. Even the editing was mostly handled in Camera RAW. I think only one or two of the images made it into Photoshop for more extensive edits, but that’s what I prefer these days. Minimalism, subtlety, interesting light… That’s where I am and what I look for.

I don’t imagine most of these images would be received well by the general public, but that’s the beauty of having no fans or followers: You shoot only for yourself. For me, it’s still rewarding when I take an image that is different somehow, or speaks to the mood of a place (the ‘vibe’, as my daughter would say).

There are some beautiful cottages in Blayney like this pink number. I also loved the shed up the back and classic ‘curvy’ fence.

I was also struck with this very simple scene around the corner. There was a time I would have cloned out the foilage in the bottom, but now I like to leave these elements in.

This was also the first trip out for the Gilmmerglass 1 diffusion filter. I’m always trying to shave that digital edge off my images, and this seemed like a good way to go about it. It’s very similar to the Tiffen Pro Mist but perhaps retains more original contrast. To be honest, and I hate to use the word again, but it’s very subtle. You do notice it more about halation with lights, but regular photos? Perhaps not so much. For now I’ll leave it on and see how we go.

A good example of the Glimmerglass 1 diffusion filter in action removing some of that digital harshness and adding halation and bloom to the highlights, giving this tree an impressionistic look.

Originally, we stopped here on the highway because the farmer on the other side of the road was ploughing his field and sending this plume of dust into the air, but he was gone by the time we got organised. The dust remained in the air for this scene in the opposite direction, though.

I think there’s a lot more to explore in this area, so we’ll be back. There’s a larger trip planned to Japan this year, which should offer more photographic opportunity. I’d also like to get some more analog work happening again too.

Thanks for reading.

As always, you can a gallery of the images that didn’t make it below.

Here is an interesting one. This is looking down into the water at Carcoar dam. You have the reflection of a cloud and a weed growing out from the jetty. It’s very simple and very subtle, which is just the way I like it.

In a similar vein, this silhouette of a lovely old church at Millthorpe is also quite subtle. I originally corrected the angle, but I actually prefer this skewed version with only the hint of sunset in the background.

Also in Millthorpe, I couldn’t resist hanging out the window (and across the wife) when our car lights did something magical to this sign.

Mudgee NSW With The Fuji GFX50R

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I’ve been busy this month tidying up the website and preparing images for print sales when I came across this series I took on a break to Mudgee, NSW my wife and I took last year. This will be a short post, but I thought it was worth sharing some images.

There’s an interesting duality here that sums up modern-day Mudgee: a combination of old and new, of history and modernity.

Mudgee itself, like a lot of regional towns in Australia, has changed a lot in the last ten or so years I was last there. Nearby mining has brought new wealth into the town, which is reflected not only in the housing pricing, but also the abundance of restaurants and eateries. The town itself has also pushed tourism heavily in the last few years, making Mudgee something of a must-eat foodie destination in NSW. The town has not lost its old-school charm, though, and remains the perfect place for a little relaxation.

While that looks like a moon, it was actually a water droplet on the lens of my camera.

Come the weekend, there are always some wonderful classic cars around the town. This GTO was in great condition.

The food. Oh, the food. We ate at the very popular Pipeclay Pumphouse with views of the Robert Stein vineyard. As expected, the food was wonderful with a distinct Australian flavour. Also impressive was the Zin House. Here, everything is sourced from the restaurant garden, which you are invited to walk through with a glass and view. It kind of makes you never want to go back to Sydney.

I should really do a series of all these theatres in regional towns around Australia. The Regent in Mudgee is especially photogenic.

So there you have it. Looking for a break from the big smoke? Mudgee is well worth the trip, especially if you’re looking for a decent feed. Just don’t forget your wallet. More images below.

Skiing At Charlotte's Pass With The Fuji GFX50R

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It’s a bit of a family tradition on my wife’s side of the family to journey to Charlotte’s Pass every year. Located in the alpine region of New South Wales, Charlotte’s Pass is Australia’s highest ski resort, a small village that is snowbound during winter. Finally, with COVID well in the rear-view now, we headed down to check it out.

A ICM image of snow drifts coming through looking over the valley towards Australia’s highest ‘mountain’, Mt Kosciusko. I like the painterly quality here and sense of movement.

I knew from the outset this would be a challenging trip photographically. The village of Charlotte’s Pass is very small, every building a muted shade of brown, green or grey, with not much colour to be found. But there’s also fun in the challenge, and once again, light hunting became my go-to.

Many ski resorts in Australia closed early this season because of a lack of snow (a lot of people are amazed we do, in fact, have ski resorts at all), but we were lucky to receive a good dumping of white stuff before we arrived, which lasted out the week.

Above are a series of images of trail markers used to show where obstacles lie on ski runs. I became a bit obsessed with the way they contrasted with the blanketed snow around them. They became a fixture of my more minimal images.

Likewise, I had hoped to get some images on the way to the village via oversnow transport. However, it was sleeting/windy and the cat itself was moving faster than I had anticipated. Still, I took this rapid-fire series of shots below hoping to get the right amount of movement and really emphasize the conditions. You can see this creek became increasingly clearer as we got closer, but I prefer the original image with movement and blur.

We stayed at TarGanGil Lodge in Charlotte’s Pass. I’d highly recommend it, not only because it’s the closest lodge to the charlift, but the food was nothing short of amazing. And I’m a pretty harsh critic. The kids also had a blast with the lodge guests and the fact you never really had to queue to get on a chairlift or T-bar, as Charlotte’s only allows a fixed number of visitors at any one time.

The two images below were taken in our room at the lodge. It had the most beautiful morning and afternoon light. I’m sure most Australians my age are familiar with the blanket on the left. They were a permanent fixture of every grandmother’s house in the seventies and eighties, horribly scratchy but always warm. They also remind me of childhood ski trips, of escapism. The way the light cut across the quilt was perfection—or at least to me.

This image was taken at the ski-tube trerminal at Perisher Valley. There is, and always has been, something kitsch about ski resorts in Australia. They feel like a time capsule of sorts, perpetually stuck in the past. I thought the colours and poster here perfectlly summed that up.

As always, I found myself smiling looking over the RAW files out of the GFX50R. I’ve had it a long time now and it has never disappointed. It’s that bridge between film and digital I’ve always been looking for. It simply works. One of the images I’ve posted was actually taken with my old Samsung S20 and upsized in Photoshop using Super Enhance, as I couldn’t let it pass.

Next year is shaping up to be very interesting photographically. I’m looking to knock off two of my bucket list destinations: Iceland and Karijini National Park, as well as keep my ICM series of Sydney going. I’ll also be working on creating a print shop for people to purchase my work, as I believe so many images here would make excellent wall art, especially the more minimally inclined.

All in all, it was a successful trip, though I’m not sure my body agrees. Skiing doesn’t seem as easy these days. Head here for the full gallery, or check out some of shots that didn’t make it below.

Landscape Photography In The Warrumbungles: A Year With The Sigma DP1 Quattro

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I recently spent a weekend in the Warrumbungle region, which apart from having the greatest name ever for a national park, is also ripe with photographic opportunity. We stayed at Coonabarabran, roughly a half hour from the Warrumbungle National Park. Coona itself is five hours from Sydney, so not too bad in the scheme of things. This trip also marked my Sigma DP1’s first birthday, but we’ll get to that later.

The big draw is the Grand High Tops circuit, a roughly four-hour loop that takes in all the famous peaks the park has to offer. The rock formations themselves are remnants of an eroded volcano active 13-17 million years ago. The volcano itself was estimated to be 1km high and 50km wide, so rather large. Standing up there, you can certainly picture it.

The Grand High Tops walk is impeccably maintained. There’s a paved track for a fair heft of the way, new staircases and plenty of rest areas. It’s far from the bush track it used to be. Even the camping facilities down the bottom are first rate. Just make sure you remember where you parked your car…

About 15min into the walk I realised I was going to get some serious blisters trying to break a new pair of boots in, but I pushed on. Suffice to say, make sure you’re prepared with not only proper footwear, but water, food and warm clothing, as it gets quite cold after sunset.

I didn’t realise that the region is dubbed the ‘astronomy capital of Australia’, but at night it soon became clear why. I have never seen so many stars so vibrant in the sky. The Sigma, with its lack of high ISO prowess, doesn’t do astrophotography, but if you have a camera that does, you’re in for a treat.

The main attraction in the Warrumbungles is the famous Breadknife, a thin (surprisingly thin) blade of rock that juts from the earth like something out of Jurassic Park. Rock-climbing is prohibited, but if you’re a crag fiend, fear not. There are plenty of other peaks to scale.

We headed up for sunset the first day where I shot the Breadknife from the top lookout, leaving Coonabarabran the following morning at 2:30am to catch sunrise back at the Knife at 5:30am. A word to the wise, camp at Balor Hut and save yourself the hiking.

Sunrise gifts you with golden light smacking the side of the Breadknife, but you have to be careful, as during certain times of the year the sun is blocked by Belogery spire to the right. I wasn’t aware of this, the sun only making it through by metres, enough to light half of the rock during the best light directly after sunrise. I don’t mind the look, however, as it provides shape to the dome in the background.

At the top lookout you can turn in any direction and find a mighty peak. Here’s Crater Bluff, an imposing peak that looks ripe for climbing. It was lit with the most magical light during sunset, but I wanted a comp a little out of norm. The result is actually my favourite image from the trip.

While the Grand High Tops is great, there are so many other peaks around the area that seemingly go missed, such as Timor Rock right next to the road. One morning we waited for sunrise and drove madly shooting all the peaks we could in the good light. Although the bushfires a few years ago were terrible, what they have done is remove the vegetation from many of these peaks, giving them an alien, spiny look. The lack of trees really allowed you to see the shapes and structures of the peaks unhindered. The new growth coming through is also photogenic in its own right.

Often I find the journey to a destination is just as interesting as the destination itself. The ‘Golden Highway’ is alive with expanse fields and rolling hills, but I was particularly drawn to abandoned structures, such as the motel and train station below in Dunedoo. I took these images handheld and they are perhaps the least processed of any of the shots I took during the trip.

A perfect stop on the way back to Sydney is Lake Windamere with its haunting trees. I could resist a quick long exposure (read: 30sec).

So, what are my thoughts on the Sigma DP1 Quattro after a year then? It truly has been a game-changer for me, putting me much closer to the kind of images I want to take. The detail and dimensionality continue to blow me away, but it is not without its faults. My biggest gripe is dynamic range, especially when the Sony sensors offer so much. I’m hopeful the new SD-H might address this, and a few other issues, such as a viewfinder and exposures longer than 30sec. It will be interesting to see how it compares.

Perhaps the greatest part of travelling with the DP1 has been its portability. It really is a pocket camera, taking up barely any room in my bag but delivering files that rival medium-format. Given its lack of high ISO usability, average screen and so on, it’s very much what I imagine using an older Phase One P25 would be like. I’d love to do a side-by-side some time.

People still look perplexed when I pull the DP1. Sitting next to a Mamiya RB67 on my shelf here it looks very, very small indeed. Honestly, I don’t think fellow photographers take it very seriously at all. Their loss, I say.

As for the Warrumbungles, get there ASAP if you can. The walks are super-accessible and I dare say the view from the top of the Grand High Tops is one of the best in the whole country. It’s ancient, mysterious and complete cat-nip for photographers. Go and see why.