If the Weather’s Rubbish go Anyway
ISO160 | f14 | 22mm | 60 seconds
Expect Nothing, Experience Everything
Let me be honest right out the gate — I wasn’t planning to film this morning. It was one of those typical landscape photography days where expectations are low, the forecast is gloomy, and motivation could’ve stayed in bed. But here’s the thing: when you’re a landscape photographer, you get out anyway. You just do. Rain or shine, storm or calm — you chase the moment.
Low Light and Long Exposures
It was pitch dark when I arrived, with the forecast promising nothing but rain. But Australia being Australia, that changed fast. It was already 25°C an hour before dawn — warm, steamy, and unpredictably beautiful. The light was minimal, the clouds were heavy, and I knew that meant one thing: perfect conditions for long exposures.
Took advantage of the pre-dawn gloom for some super long exposures, starting with an 8-minute image
Focus was tricky, so I got creative — placed a torch on the stairs to lock focus.
The classic staircase shot required some careful composition and a bit of focus stacking magic.
Focus Stacking and Compositional Twists
There’s a beautiful estuary down a flight of slightly sketchy stairs (spoiler: my tripod did some acrobatics). While the sunrise itself was muted, I focused on the textures and shapes in the composition — especially that staircase, which I’ll absolutely revisit at sunset one day.
Focus-stacked 3–4 exposures to get sharpness throughout the stairwell.
Adjusted the angle for a cleaner shot, avoiding obstructions from the walkway.
Kept ISO low (50–100) and aperture tight (around f/14–f/16) for clarity.
ISO50 | f14 | 20mm | 50 seconds
Sea Spray and Surprises
After wrapping up on the stairs, I explored a stunning little spot by the water. The sea spray was relentless, my lens cloth worked overtime, and Raffy… well, he lived up to his nickname “Footprints”. He’s great company but a real hazard to pristine sand compositions!
Played around with a polariser to control reflections.
Experimented with 1.5-second shutter speeds to create silky water motion.
Then threw on a 6-stop ND filter for some beautiful 50-second to 1-minute exposures.
Wrap-Up: Why the Best Days Are the Least Expected
Despite the rain, sea spray, and slightly chaotic Raffy moments — this morning was pure joy. No dramatic sky, no blazing sunrise — just the quiet satisfaction of turning up, doing the work, and playing with light and time. And honestly, those are the moments that make this hobby feel like therapy.
Thanks for joining me at the mouthful that is the Onkaparinga River Mouth. Now, if you’ll excuse me — breakfast is calling.
Take care of yourself, take care of your loved ones, and until next time, see ya’.
If you wish to follow the adventure and see how I overcome the challenges that hinders us all on location. If you do please visit the full video on my YouTube channel here.
King’s Beach: A Surprising Find!
ISO100 | f11 | 33mm | 30 seconds
"I had no intention of doing any sort of video whatsoever… there was nothing here. Or so I thought."
I didn’t come to King’s Beach to shoot. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, the forecast had promised absolutely nothing, and to be honest, I just felt like stretching my legs with Raffy—my 6-year-old Spoodle—and catching the sunrise for myself. But as we walked the shoreline, a wisp of cloud drifted across the horizon. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. I unpacked the camera, not with great expectation, but simply because something in the light told me it might be worth it. That quiet moment of shift from observer to participant was all it took.
I began with a few quiet compositions. The frame felt unbalanced, so I shifted slightly left to pull a rock into the foreground. Just like that, it started to come together. As usual, Raffy wandered into the shot—he has a knack for finding his way into frame no matter how much I try to set up around him. Honestly, I think he believes he's part of the landscape now.
Once the sun starts its climb, everything changes quickly. I switched from shutter priority to manual mode and dialled in the exposure before the light became too harsh. I dropped the ISO to 50 and took two long exposures—one focusing on the foreground rock, the other on the distant headland. It’s always a bit of a dance, trying to beat the sun while staying present in the moment
Normally, I shoot at Petrol Cove when I’m down near Victor Harbor, but this morning, I felt drawn to explore just a little further. I’m glad I did. King’s Beach gave me views that Petrol Cove usually hides, especially that headland which tends to block the light. Here, I was closer to the offshore island, surrounded by strewn rocks and rich textures in the cliffs. I could tell there were compositions waiting to be uncovered.
ISO100 | f16 | 180mm | ¼ second
One composition stood out - a reflective stretch of sand, textured with ripples and streaked seaweed. I took a few steps back to avoid a distracting clump and set up two quick shots. I adjusted the polarizer to remove the vignette in the corner, keeping the scene clean and true to what I was seeing. Thirty seconds of exposure smoothed the water without losing its personality.
I stood in the sand, camera steady, heart calm. It was one of those moments. You wake early, head out with no plan, and find yourself immersed in something quietly magical. The light, the silence, the salty breeze—it all just makes sense. Raffy was off adventuring in the rocks behind me, and I stood there thinking how lucky I was to witness this. No pressure to produce, no need to impress - just being there was enough.
Sometimes, simplicity is the point. There was a large stretch of open water between me and the distant bluff, but I embraced the emptiness. With a long exposure, the water softened into a pale wash, separating the layers of the image without any distractions. It was simple, minimal, and peaceful. I let go of sharpness in the middle—it didn’t need it. The texture was in the moment, not just the pixels
Just as I thought the best light had passed, a gentle sweep of pink appeared across the sky. I threw on a 3-stop ND filter to extend the shutter time and capture the softness. The water blurred just enough to enhance the mood without losing the feeling of being there. Subtle colour, a bit of movement, and a horizon that glowed just the right amount. It was all I needed.
Before packing up, I couldn’t resist trying something a bit different. I flipped the camera vertical and captured 8 to 10 frames for a panoramic stitch. The light was fading, and the sky was clearing, but it was more about curiosity than necessity. A bit of play before heading home—a reminder that photography is still fun when it’s just for you
7 image panorama ISO100 | f16 | 175mm | 1/3 second
It wasn’t an epic sky or a dramatic swell. But it was honest. The kind of morning that fills you up without asking anything in return. I came out expecting nothing, and in return, I got a quiet sunrise, a few thoughtful compositions, and the company of Raffy trotting happily between rocks. That’s more than enough, it’s a win in my book.
Please look after yourself. Look after your loved ones. Until next time—see ya.
If you wish to follow the adventure and see how I overcome the challenges that hinders us all on location. If you do please visit the full video on my YouTube channel here.
Port Willunga: Unplanned, Unexpected, Unforgettable
ISO400 | f16 | 20mm | 1.5 seconds
You know those mornings where you set out expecting one thing and Mother Nature serves up something completely different? That was this morning. I’d planned for a calm, cloudless blue sky, maybe even a touch of drama at sunset — but I ended up shooting long exposures at sunrise, under moody, shifting skies. And honestly? I wouldn’t have had it any other way.
Setting Up in the Unknown
Port Willunga greeted me with soft light and stormy skies. Not the golden glow I’d anticipated, but a deliciously unpredictable palette perfect for experimentation. Long exposure photography was the name of the game — no filters, just good timing and a sturdy tripod.
Started with a 8-minute exposure, that early there was no need for filters.
Adjusted down to 1.5 seconds for different compositions.
Used shutter priority mode early on to help lock in focus in the low light.
As always, my four-legged assistant Raffy kept things interesting — from walking into the shot to demanding a game of fetch mid-composition. He’s become a bit of a star on these trips.
Tips from the Field: Long Exposure Without Filters
This outing was a great reminder that you don’t always need fancy kit to create compelling long exposure shots. Here's what I learned (and re-learned):
Filters aren’t essential — early mornings and post-sunset light are low enough for longer shutter speeds naturally.
Tripods are a must — mine’s a carbon fibre model for strength and lightness, ideal for beach work.
If you're unsure about long exposure photography, just try it! Head out pre-dawn or after sunset, use shutter priority, and experiment.
ISO50 | f16 | 20mm | 120 seconds
Composing with Care
One of the biggest challenges was avoiding footprints and pawprints in the sand. I took care to adjust angles, coax Raffy out of frame, and focus manually to keep things sharp.
Highlights included:
A soft cascading waterfall over the rocks during a longer exposure.
Silky white water swirling around the old jetty pylons — a classic Port Willunga feature.
A variety of shots: ultra-wide panoramas, tight compositions, and crashing wave details.
Reflections and Final Thoughts
As the light brightened, I added in a 6-stop ND filter for the final shots, then swapped it out again for shorter exposures. I even threw on a soft grad filter to tame the sky in one last scene.
In the end, it wasn’t the light I expected, but it was exactly what I needed — a reminder of how therapeutic and joy-filled this art form can be. I left with a full memory card and a full heart.
ISO50 | f16 | 20mm | 1 second
Until Next Time
Thank you for coming along on this peaceful morning adventure. Whether you’re a seasoned long exposure shooter or just getting started, I hope this inspires you to head out, camera in hand, and see what the day brings.
Don’t forget — it’s not always about the perfect light. Sometimes it’s just about being there.
If you wish to follow the adventure and see how I overcome the challenges that hinders us all on location. If you do please visit the full video on my YouTube channel here.
Ghost Town - The Desolate lands of Silverton
ISO640 | f13 | 16mm | 1/3 second
Ever walk into a place that feels like a movie set? Silverton is one. This legendary outback town helped bring Mad Max to life—dusty roads, rusted wrecks, and post-apocalyptic charm baked under the Aussie sun.
I arrived before dawn, chasing the ghost town's bones in that brief golden light. What followed? A quiet morning of flying bugs, rusted relics, and pure photographic instinct.
It was pitch-black. A red light glowed on my gear (mozzie pro tip), and I stood beside a rusted-out car and a crumbling shack, long abandoned to the desert. Dead silence, broken only by buzzing insects.
The sky? Almost clear—not ideal. Clouds add drama. But a sliver of wisp hung near the horizon. Maybe, just maybe, it’d catch a hint of pink.
I went ultra-wide. Not just to capture the scene, but to exaggerate the space, the isolation. That derelict car wasn’t just a subject—it was a character. The ruin beside it? Whispered stories when the wind hit just right.
Camera dialled in:
Aperture: f/13
Shutter: 10–15 sec
Focus stacked, just in case.
What I wanted was depth. Grit. Texture. That raw outback feel—hot dirt, peeling paint, and the deep, haunting quiet of nowhere.
ISO100 | f13 | 16mm | 1 second
Let’s be real: the outback is not a tidy studio. Flies swarm my face. Mosquitoes make friends with my ankles. The air smells like iron and dust. I’m juggling lenses while doing the mosquito slap dance.
But I wait.
Why? Because that tiny puff of cloud above might go pink. Might not. But in this game, you wait.
If you wish to follow the adventure and see how I overcome the challenges that hinders us all on location. If you do please visit the full video on my YouTube channel here.
A Morning at Wyaralong Dam: Mist, Muck & Magic Light
ISO100 | f16 | 18mm | 50 seconds
So here's how it went down—I barely got a “good morning” out before I was reaching for the camera. That sky? Already putting on a show. Colour bleeding through the mist, calm water like glass, and dead trees reaching up like bones from the water. Classic moody magic.
We’re at Wyaralong Dam in Queensland, and I’ve got the brilliant Wendy Klein with me - legend, really. She brought me to this spot, and wow, what a gift it turned out to be. Spoiler: you’ll want to bring a towel and maybe a pair of waterproof shoes next time…
When I say we had to hit the ground running, I mean it. The colour was already fading, so I literally plonked my camera down and started firing.
And then came the joy: reflections so perfect you could flip the image and barely tell.
Call it strange, but I love shooting what I call dead things in water. There's something about the stillness, the decay, the way light plays across the surface—it’s poetic in a way only nature and a wide lens can deliver.
This spot? It was overflowing with that mood. The water was calm, the trees were skeletal, and the mist was starting to whisper through the scene.
“It’s just… absolutely gorgeous.”
Pro Tip: Let Your Camera Sleep Outside
Here’s a trick I’ve learned (the hard way): if you're shooting in humid, misty conditions like this, don’t bring your camera straight from an air-conditioned room or warm car into the field. It'll fog up. Fast.
Instead, I left my gear in the car overnight, bag open, so it could acclimate. No lens fog, no surprise condensation. Just clean glass, ready to go.
Mist, Mood & Movement
We had a little mist dancing along the dam. Not heaps—but just enough to add texture and softness behind the trees. The kind of mist that teases you, makes you hope it builds just a bit more before the sun burns it off.
I spun the camera around to reframe—there was a lovely group of trees in the other direction—and I adjusted the polariser to kill some of the glare and pull out reflections. The water was high and mucky though, and my tripod was sinking into what felt like pudding.
“Looks like solid ground… it’s not. That’s mush.”
ISO125 | f16 | 16mm | 1.5 seconds
Composing With Intention
As the sky started to brighten, I knew the window was closing. I did a few things to maximize what I had:
Reframed to catch the light between the trees, playing with how it filtered through
Focus stacked a couple of shots to keep the trunks sharp but let the background soften
Cloned out a few twigs in post (because let’s be honest—some things just don’t add to the image)
Even did a couple of 1- and 2-second exposures to try and flatten some water ripples without losing texture.
One of my favourite moments? Realising a small move to the left made all the difference. Suddenly, that patch of light tucked itself between two trees perfectly. Composition is everything.
“It’s more difficult to shoot from here—but the eye loves it.”
Final Frames and Feelings
The sun finally started breaking through—bright, backlit, and intense. The mist lifted, and the moment passed. But I’d gotten what I came for: serenity, symmetry, and stillness.
Wrapped up the session with one last shot—golden light, silhouetted trees, soft water.
“It just is… beautiful.”
Thanks to Wendy & This Lovely Landscape
Massive thanks to Wendy Klein for the invite and the company. This place? It’s special. Not because it’s famous or dramatic—but because it’s subtle. It asks you to be quiet, to move slowly, to look.
And I’m glad I did.
“Please look after yourself, look after your loved ones. Until next time—see ya.”
If you wish to follow the adventure and see how I overcome the challenges that hinders us all on location. If you do please visit the full video on my YouTube channel here.