southcoast exploring

Being a West Australian I have always been of the opinion that the best coast is the west coast, however exploring the south coast of Australia in the last few days has invited me to question this assumption and has given me a greater appreciation of the south’s answer to our wild and barren yet beautiful western side of the vast nation i call home.

First stop along the coast was the Royal National Park, located just outside of Sydney, this bush was reminiscent of my grandparent’s farm where march flies and muddy creeks are commonplace. The type of country you imagine when someone tells you they have ‘gone bush’ for a bit.

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We continued further south, to a place which more closely resembles something from the teletubbies than from a nation renowned for it’s rainless days, Kiama where we met with some old family friends, sharing red wine and walking their dog Misty in the great outdoors, while keeping an eye out for migrating whales. The view from the balcony of their home shows just how varied this magical place is, where the palm trees remind us that where we stand today there once was a rainforrest, and the mountains on the horizon means that night comes quicker and is colder than in the mountainless West.

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The next stop was a small place in whoopwhoop called Duras, a beachside town with trees as tall as the giants you were told about as a smallchild. Located just outside of a national park life is slow and simple here and water is collected in tin rain tanks. The beauty of the ocean reminds me that this land is collected to the land i call home, the same water kisses the shores of my home break. It feels familiar, yet worlds away from rugged WA. As always, standing on the beach looking out into the enormity of the ocean serves as a reminder that although my life’s burdens might seem like the ocean, they are just one a few minuscule water particles in a vast expanse of sea.

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snap happy in sydney

there is some kind of magic in our ability to take a snapshot in time, and store a moment by collecting light. Photographs are magic, as they look like reality and over time they remind us of what it was to see what we once saw in real life. something that is lost when we examine the final product in real time, what our face looks like if we raise one eye brow or smile slightly wider while facing the selfie camera on the iphone… there is something rawer, realer, more honest and innocent when we just click the ‘capture’ button without the ability to review how we want to remember the moment with the lens.. i like leaving it up somewhat up to chance, letting the candid and unmediated subject speak for itself, instead of starting the editing process before the press of a button. this is what i like about my go pro hero 2. Here are three favourites from my adventures around sydney today the photographs are closer to the golden age of analogue photography, where the amateurs who now wield selfie sticks and capture 2003893839kb of images reminding them of the continuance of their mundane existence were weeded out covering the lens with their sticky fingers, or not understanding white balance or how the shadows and sun translate into a photograph. I like the results. They make me happy, and more inclined to ditch the selfie and let the camera itself choose the filter for how i choose to impart my existence to the world visually by capturing memories the snap happy way! DCIM117GOPRO DCIM117GOPRO DCIM117GOPRO

Bondi to Bronte


It may have been an overcast day when I first cast eyes on Bondi beach, however the natural beauty of Australia’s most well known beach was breathtaking  all the same.

Mainly populated by tourists with selfie sticks (lord help us!) and enthusiastic surfers on account of the swell, this is a place where you feel truly blessed to be alive and able to experience the enormity of nature and the ocean.Screen Shot 2015-04-10 at 4.18.09 pmScreen Shot 2015-04-10 at 4.18.19 pm

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it’s about our own experiences and someone else’s – travel needs both

lonely planet travel guide book hammock

Recent afternoons have been spent sipping juice in my hammock and reading books. For once, I feel content and on holiday at home. I suppose where I live does not make it too hard – cobalt blue skies,  glassy clear ocean at the beaches and an abundance of swimming pools and fresh mangos.  The summer months in Australia are almost a constant holiday, and we really are the lucky country in that regard.

One book I have been reading in my hammock is ‘Best of lonely planet travel writing‘. Travel writing is often confined to non-fiction quick guides, about where to stay and what to do in certain destinations.

Although guide books have legitimately saved my life on several occasions, and made me curious to visit different places after perusing them, it really is the personal experiences I have collected from my own travels, and the stories of my friends or other travels that inspire my pressing desire to see as much of this crazy world of ours as possible before my expiration date.

So if you are lucky enough to travel, I urge you to, for the good of everyone around you to think about your experiences and craft them into a narrative, so when you are sitting around the campfire, you have a worthwhile story to tell.

The introduction of the book, written by Tony Wheeler could not illustrate this message in better terms.

Your own experience and someone else’s – travel needs both. We want to go there ourselves, taste the food, ride the buses, crash in the hotel rooms, meet the people. We shove our guidebooks into our daypacks and head off to collide with those events. Then we want the other perspective – how some other traveller reacted to that appalling meal, that nightmare bus ride, that horror-story of a hotel. And did they also have that fleeting midnight encounter? Why didn’t she turn up at the bar the next evening? Will she be there at the next town down the line?

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What it is like to live in the world’s most isolated city

In my first post, I want to introduce the city where I currently call home. Although I love to travel as often as I get the opportunity to a little part of me always yearns for the security of home.

Home is Perth in Western Australia. We are the other side of the outback from cities you non-Aussies probably have heard of  – Melbourne, Sydney and little old Canberra where all the pollies hang out,  and the outside world does not seem to know a lot about us. ,I guess as a city of 1.6 million we are relatively insignificant on a global scale. We are really only known for our mining boom and Heath Ledger.

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