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Unfortunately the forecast storms yesterday evening did not eventuate. In fact, up until the sun actually set (although I never saw it hidden behind many layers of clouds) it didn’t even rain down at Flinders. The first spatters of rain were just beginning to fall as I was packing up to head back to the car in the dark. As a result there was no dramatic storm lighting or lightning so I decided against the long walk into Cape Shank and instead chose the easier option and walked into the Flinders Blowhole area. I had not photographed here before but the area comprises of the same black basalt rock formations as Cape Shank and offers good easy access. The turn off is poorly signposted so I was hoping the area would not be to crowded being a long weekend. Thankfully there were only a few tourists and several other photographers working the area when I arrived a few hours before sunset; but they all left not long after I arrived.

I often just dive right into shooting when I arrive at a new location; being eager to get a few frames in the can as it were – especially if the light is good and/or changing fast. This time I took a slightly different approach and just sat and waited for an hour or so observing the rock formations and considering potential compositions. I watched the other photographers going about their work and took time to slow things down in my mind. Mental preparation and getting in the right frame of mind is a large component of successful landscape photography. It is sometimes difficult to go from the frenetic pace of life to a slower and more contemplative pace that is more conducive to making artwork. I feel this approach worked and I will make an effort to have more contemplation time and what will hereafter be referred to as ‘staring time’ in my photography.

This photograph was one of only three compositions I shot in the four hours or so I spent down at the Blowhole and it is my favourite. I like the foreground rock; which reminds of a knife block and the curve of the rocky coast leading the eye through the frame. The milky, wispy ocean serves to help soften the harshness of the rocks and its deep marine colour adds dimension. Whilst I would have preferred dramatic storm lighting and some colour in the clouds I nevertheless feel that this photograph works on several different levels.

It has been overcast and raining on and off in Melbourne for the last couple of days. We had a good storm yesterday afternoon whilst I was out mountain biking at Lysterfield with hail the size of golf balls. For a short period I was forced to seek shelter under a tree with my pack over my head with some other riders to avoid the painful strikes (I have a few bruises today!). There were reports of smashed windows and damaged cars. Anyway, an interesting phenomenon happened after the hail and rain died down which I have only ever seen a few times before. Because the morning had been sunny and warm the ground had retained a lot of heat under the tree canopy; which meant that much of the rain and hail evaporated quickly. As a result an eerie fog rose up from the ground and hung low amongst the lichen covered gum trees and granite boulders. The combination of saturated lichen from the rain with hail on the ground and low fog was extremely unusual and photogenic. Unfortunately I was a long way from my car and camera and was unable to capture the scene (I did enjoy riding through it). I did make an attempt with the camera in my iphone but this was most definitely the fish that got away. I will make sure my small Canon S90 pocket camera is in my backpack on all future rides – lesson learned. More isolated rainstorms and  thunderstorms are forecast for late this afternoon so I am heading down to Cape Shank in the hopes of some good light.