The Sound of Water

“Be like water making its way through cracks. Do not be assertive, but adjust to the object, and you shall find a way around or through it. If nothing within you stays rigid, outward things will disclose themselves.

Empty your mind, be formless. Shapeless, like water. If you put water into a cup, it becomes the cup. You put water into a bottle and it becomes the bottle. You put it in a teapot, it becomes the teapot. Now, water can flow or it can crash. Be water, my friend.” - Bruce Lee

Newtown Rivulet. Hasselblad 500CM, Portra 400, Aug 2024.

Mt Sarah Jane. Hasselblad 500CM, Portra 400, Aug 2024.

Buttongrass Moorland, Hasselblad 500CM, Portra 400, Aug 2024.

Angel Falls. Hasselblad 500CM, Portra 400, Aug 2024.

Ignorance and Apathy

The other day a friend of mine asked me what ignorance and apathy meant.
I told him I don’t know and I don’t care. ;)

Boulders and the Sea. Hasselblad 500CM, Cinestill 400D, July 2024.

A lot of the world’s troubles can be traced back to a lack of understanding and caring. Either people don’t know any better or they don’t care to do any better. Learning and caring come naturally to some but are elusive to others.

There have certainly been times in my life when I should have known better or should have cared more but I didn’t. Some days I wake up and I am full of quiet hope, ready to meet the world and to do my best. Other days, I wake up and I can’t motivate myself to care deeply about anything and I make a series of decisions that are detrimental to my own and the world’s well-being.

Why is it so hard to stay consistently true to our higher goals?

Rock Garden. Hasselblad 500CM, Cinestill 400D, July 2024.

Some of us know better, but fail to care enough to do better. Without shifting responsibility for our own actions, perhaps one reason for this is because we live in an insane society. Who can remain sane when the whole world has gone mad?

Humanity is on a trajectory of self destruction; we are passengers on a bus hurtling towards a cliff and our driver has their foot on the gas. The timeline of this self destruction is quite long and spans many generations; perhaps that’s why the annihilation of life on Earth doesn’t appear as pressing a matter as the rise of interest rates on our mortgages.

We are all witnessing the great tragedy of diminishing biodiversity, catastrophic climate change, overpopulation, and a decimation of the natural systems that support our own existence. And despite having a solid understanding of what the issues are and what some of the potential solutions may look like, as a society, as a species, we are unable to act in a coordinated way to implement those solutions. No matter how many ‘summits’ are held amongst the world’s leaders, emissions continue to increase, land is still being cleared, the oceans are still being exploited.

As an individual that is part of society, no matter how noble or well intentioned our actions are, we are all riding the big old ship of human destiny that seems bound for a terrible maelstrom. Perhaps this is why I wake up some days and I simply don’t care any more. I know that no matter what my actions are, nature is going to be destroyed by myself and my fellow humans as members of an insane society that is founded on the unsustainable use of limited natural resources. Why bother getting out of bed when my existence proliferates the imbalance of the world?

Lemon Rock. Hasselblad 500CM, Cinestill 400D, July 2024.

But then something akin to spirit awakens in me and I refuse to give in to apathy. While there is life, there is hope, and while there is hope there is a possibility of altering the trajectory of the future. The prerequisite for change is the belief in its possibility. Even though there are some days when I want to give in and stop caring completely, a little spark always remains and it gives me enough to carry on, to keep caring.

I may live in an insane society, in a horrendously skewed, imperfect world, but I am alive and this is the only life that I know, (or remember). And like Neil Young, I believe ‘it is better to burn out than to fade away’. So I’m going to keep the fire alive, and leave ignorance and apathy to those who don’t know and to those who don’t care.

-A.S. 24/8/24, Lenah Valley.

Clairvoyance

Clairvoyance /klɛːˈvɔɪəns/: the ability to see beyond the range of ordinary perception.

Zincworks, Derwent River. Hasselblad 500CM, Cinestill 400, July 2024.

In the current ‘age of reason’, science has become the new religion. We hold science as our trump card, the method of determining the truth that is to be trusted above all others.

And yet a lot of people still believe in the idea of the soul. That there is an essence of our being which transcends the physical, or ordinary realm and perhaps continues to exist somehow after our bodies have long been eaten by the worms and our bones have become dust and our lives, deeds and actions have long been forgotten.

There are many ways of determining the truth. Science has been proven to be reliable method, and is now the trusted method. But there are things that are outside the realms of science. Science is based on a series of theories and experiments. If a theory is unable to be ‘tested’, then it’s conjecture, philosophy, and to some, not worth knowing.

And yet, our stories, and dreams imply that there is a world beyond the world of knowing that we are all familiar with. There are stories of people who are able to perceive a deep truth in things in ways that are difficult to understand with a logical brain. There are stories of traditional healers, shamans traveling through the spirit world to solve problems in the real world.To retrieve souls that have been stolen or lost. Stories, dreams, imaginings. Intangible, unfalsifiable, mysterious as the morning fog on the river.

I used to believe that science was the only way of understanding things. The older I get, the more I start to think that there are many ways of knowing things. Some people have a logical brain, some people have an intuitive brain. There are different kinds of problems out there that require different approaches to be solved and often a problem may have multiple solutions.

Zincworks, Derwent River, Hasselblad 500CM, Cinestill 400, July 2024.

Clairvoyance in my mind, doesn’t need the introduction of ‘supernatural’ abilities to be viable. Clairvoyance could simply be the ability to make a prediction about the future that would seem uncanny to the observer. It could theoretically be done with normal senses, but perhaps with a sprinkle of extraordinary insight. I don’t think we need to step outside the laws of physics to allow for the possibility of some people out there having an incredible sensitivity toward the world, and perceiving a greater depth to reality than others.

The difference between science and clairvoyance might be smaller than we expect. Clairvoyance means possessing the ability to predict the occurrence of certain events. But isn’t this what science does as well? The supercomputers that run the meteorologist’s models are able to predict the future beyond what might be possible with the human senses alone. But to the person without a background in physics, mathematics and computer programming, the process of modern weather forecasting is inherently mysterious.

In the same way, a particularly ‘intuitive’ or perceptive person may be able to pick up on subtle clues to discern truths, notice patterns and make predictions that may appear astounding to someone who is bound to a purely logical existence.

The need to explain every occurrence in rational terms has become the current zeitgeist, spirit of the times. But some parts of the universe are inherently irrational, unpredictable, chaotic.

And sometimes, the universe can surprise us.

-A.S. 17/8/24

Zincworks, Derwent River. Hasselblad 500CM, Cinestill 400, July 2024.

The Source of the Nile...

“I thought back to a dream I had nearly forgotten; to be a wilderness photographer, living the simple, quiet life. Not getting involved in politics, activism, the world. Just focusing on one thing. Taking photos. Paying attention to the shifting of the light. Doing my quiet work and nothing else. Removing myself from the mad rush society expects of us. Relinquishing everything else, just focusing on the thing that matters. Getting to know Tasmania, inch by inch at a time. Spending my days wandering in quiet solitude. Being one with the land. Giving up fighting the fights I cannot win. Printing each image only once, to represent the moment that will never happen again. Becoming what I must be.”

-A.S. 19.6.2024, near the source of the Nile River

Reflection in waterway. Near the source of the Nile River, Ben Lomond Plateau. Lutruwita / Tasmania. Hasselblad 500CM, Cinestill 400, July 2024.

The Southern End of the Ben Lomond Plateau. Lutruwita / Tasmania. Hasselblad 500CM, Cinestill 400, July 2024.

Proud Pinnacle, near Stacks Bluff. Lutruwita / Tasmania. Hasselblad 500CM, Cinestill 400, July 2024.

New Zealand 2024 - Highlights Reel

‘So, how was your trip to New Zealand!?’

This simple question is always going to be difficult to answer, especially when this trip contained everything from spine tingling terror to ecstatic joy and everything else in between. Two months on the road living life by holding onto a shoestring, or more accurately by holding the handlebars on a bicycle with the freedom to chose where to steer, moment by moment, hour to hour, day to day; it’s impossible to wrap it all up in a single sentence. So I won’t even try.

But I will share some of my most memorable moments and experiences from my cycle touring trip this year, from Queenstown to Auckland on two wheels, by the least direct route possible allowed by two months.

The following photo essay is an attempt to wrap up the story of my bike touring trip to New Zealand. For me, this is a story that will remain open, for I would like to return to the land of the long white cloud one day. The wilderness of New Zealand holds deep allure for the adventurer; promises many wonders and many dangers.

Please saviour the following highlights reel from my New Zealand photographs, all of which were shot over six rolls of 35mm colour negative film on an all-mechanical- Pentax MX camera equipped with a 50mm prime lens.

If you enjoy this posts, please consider sharing it with others and subscribing if you haven’t already.

Thanks for reading. :)

-A.S. 3/8/2024

My first view of the Southern Alps, Kā Tiritiri o te Moana, South Island,Te Waipounamu. These mountains were in the cloud the entire time I rode my bike up the West Coast. I guess I may have to go back…?
Pentax MX, Kodak Image Pro 100, April 2024.

The view from the historic steamship, built the same year as the Titanic, the Earnslaw, Lake Wakatipu. Pentax MX, Kodak Image Pro 100, April 2024.

The tourer in Fiordland. This was after a day trip to Milford Sound, so panniers were not loaded on bike. What a place! Pentax MX, Kodak Pro Image 100, April 2024.

Mitre Peak, Milford Sound. The sound of engines of buses, boats, helicopters, planes and cars dominated the otherwise peaceful little bay. Milford Sound has power and beauty, and it draws people to it. I just wish people went about it in a more quiet manner. Pentax MX, Kodak Image Pro 100, April 2024.

I met this Japanese cycle tourer in Haast, and he had been on the road for three years. He had an enormous amount of gear on his bike. When I asked him how he was going, he said to me : “ So tired, every day.”. But then the next morning, despite clearly having some mechanical difficulties, he was full of stoke to keep going. What a legend! Pentax MX, Cinmax BW, April 2024.

The west coast of the South Island, land of waterfalls. Pentax MX, Cinmax BW, April 2024.

Cabbage Tree. Pentax MX, Cinmax BW, April 2024.

Rimu Tree, one of New Zealands many ancient endemic conifers. Pentax MX, Cinmax BW, April 2024.

The retreating Fox Glacier. It used to be visible from the road about 20 years ago. Now, it requires a 45 min walk (or 15 min bike ride) to get a view of it. It was a little bit underwhelming, but I was still happy to have seen it at all. Pentax MX, Cinmax BW, April 2024.

Punakaiki, aka Pancake Rocks. Halfway between Greymouth and Westport. Amazing coastal rock formations and weathering. Pentax MX, Cinestill 50, April 2024.

The view from near Cape Foulwind. Pentax MX, Cinestill 50, April 2024.

The big wide open road. Waiting. Pentax MX, Cinestill 50, April 2024.

Molesworth Station. It’s one of New Zealand’s biggest cattle farms, and driest inland areas. There is a frost nearly 250 nights of the year. Pentax MX, Ektar 100, April 2024.

Taranaki, the frozen volcano. This mountain humbled me. Pentax MX, Ektar 100, April 2024.

Pastured hills, Forgotten World Highway. This road leads to the Republic of Whongamomona, a quirky little town where the locals declared independence a few years ago. Pentax MX, Cinestill 400, May 2024.

Sheep and grass. North Island, Te Ika-a-maui. Pentax MX, Ektar 100, April 2024.

New Zealand, the land of cattle and sheep. Pentax MX, Cinestill 400, May 2024.

A magical cloud forest on the Timber Trail from Ongarue to Pureora. Pentax MX, Cinestill 400, May 2024.

Poukani, the oldest known Totara Tree. Pentax MX, Cinestill 400, May 2024.

Rain brewing, Coromandel Peninsula. Pentax MX, Portra 800, May 2024.

Hot Water Beach, Coromandel Peninsula. Take your own shovel, dig a hole in the sand on the beach at low tide and the water may fill up with hot water. The trick is knowing where to dig. Luckily I didn’t have to dig as I didn’t have a shovel. I was given a hole already dug by someone else that had filled up with thermal water. I sat in my own little hot pool right there on the beach for hours and watched the tide come in, surrounded by people doing the same thing. I hadn’t had so much fun since I was about 5 years old! Pentax MX, Portra 800, May 2024.

Port Jackson, my favourite campsite in all of Aotearoa. Land of the long white cloud. Pentax MX, Portra 800, May 2024.

Tairua. Mount Paku. The grass really is a bit greener in New Zealand. Pentax MX, Kodak Portra 800, May 2024.

In Defense of Solitude

“True solitude is found in wild places, where one is without human obligation.” - Wendell Berry

“Solitude is not chosen, any more than destiny is chosen. Solitude comes to us if we have within us the magic stone that attracts destiny.”- Herman Hesse

Kunanyi Sunrise. Pentax MX, Kodak Image Pro 100. Available as an A4 print.

Solitude is not the same as loneliness or isolation. Solitude takes place when there are no other people around us. Loneliness can occur in the middle of a city, where we are surrounded by people. Isolation is often enforced, where our actions and choices are limited.

Cushion Plants, Eldon Bluff. Pentax MX, Kodak Ektar 100, Jan 2019. Available as an A4 print.

Solitude implies quiet acceptance and freedom to be our self. Solitude can take place at home, in nature, anywhere we may chose to be alone. Solitude implies a quiet place where our thoughts can come to us unbidden.

Being alone isn’t always easy but there is always something to learn from it. To figure out who we truly are, we need to be alone. Creative thought arises only in solitude.

The interesting thing about solitude is that it always circles back to the people we love and who want us back.

-A.S., 24/7/2024

Clouds and the Sea. Pentax MX, Kodak Portra 400, 2019. To be exhibited as part of the ‘Atmospheric’ exhibition at the Lady Franklin Gallery, Lenah Valley in August 2024.

Port Jackson

“Please leave toilet seat up after use. It helps with the ventilation”- sign in public toilet, Port Jackson.

Pohutukawa -New Zealand Christmas Tree, North Island / Te Ika-a-Maui. Pentax MX, Portra 800, May 2024.

King Country

Timber stands tall
Till it comes down
Trucks roll down
The dirt road.

Green sweet grass
It grows in the rain
The cows, the sheep
Eat it all day.

-A.S. 13/5/2024, Ongarue.

Coastal pastures, contour lines made by livestock. Pentax MX, Portra 800, May 2024.

Sweet as bro

I will remember the moment always
When I topped the ridge in the cloud forest
Mist swirling through the trees,
Victory tune playing in my head.

The moment of perfect absorption
As if nothing else truly mattered,
The ecstatic bliss of being present
Of this moment being worthy of attention.

The way the trees just stood there,
The forest path winding,
My bicycle’s wheels finding
Their way on the pumice.

When everything melts away
All the possibilities narrow down to one
We become what we see
We learn to become the sun.

-A.S. - Port Jackson 24/5/'2024

Green and windy. Pentax MX, Portra 800 May 2024.

A tooth for a truth

The wheels have turned
The country slipped me by;
Rolling green hills,
Mountains brooding in cloud.

To see, to speak,
The forgotten shrouds,
Silk curtains parting
To reveal the clowns.

Home among strangers
Where the truth
Is novelty, not some
Troublesome cloak we wear.

Home in the long white cloud
That appears over a narrow
Strip of land on a fault line;
The great calm ocean around.

A.S. 30/5/24 - Auckland

The narrow and winding road to Port Jackson. Pentax MX, Portra 800, May 2024.

Particularly pretty puddle. Pentax MX, Portra 800, May 2024.

Pohutukawa Tree, also known as New Zealand Christmas tree for its red flowers. Pentax MX, Portra 800, May 2024.

Golden hour. Pentax MX, Portra 800, May 2024.

Port Jackson. Is that a long white cloud? Pentax MX, Portra 800, May 2024.

The Coromandel

“A self that goes on changing is a self that goes on living.” -Virginia Woolf

Windy roads, Coromandel Peninsula. Te Ika-a-Maui / North Island New Zealand. Pentax MX, Portra 800. May 2024.

Rain brewing. Coromandel Peninsula. Pentax MX, Portra 800. May 2024.

Old Kauri tree. Coromandel Peninsula. Pentax MX, May 2024.

Tairua. Pointy topped hill and swamphen. Coromandel Peninsula. Pentax MX, Portra 800, May 2024.

The Frozen Volcano

I thought I would be safe by not taking any mountaineering equipment on my bike trip to Aotearoa. My theory was, If I didn’t have my mountaineering kit, then I wouldn’t be able to get myself into the mountains to get into trouble.
Of course,  I couldn’t resist climbing high onto one mountain, to experience New Zealand’s alpine terrain … I had to get above the clouds.

Taranaki, the frozen volcano called my name.

Mt Taranaki. Pentax MX, Ektar 100, May 2024.

I put my coffee down on the ground for one minute to take a photo, and when I picked up my cup, the surface of the coffee had frozen over. So I broke it up with a spoon and had myself some iced coffee.

The storm had passed. The wind had calmed from a raging fury to a benign but persistent breeze. I had planned to spend one night, but spent two at Syme Hut, while a ‘polar blast’ blew across Taranaki.

Window. Pentax MX, Ektar 100, May 2024.

I had checked the forecast, and it honestly didn’t seem so bad. It looked cold, and a tad windy, but what happened was a lot fiercer than what I could have anticipated. The issue was the wind. The wind was gusting well over a hundred kilometres an hour across the top of Fanthams peak, a subsidiary peak of Mt Taranaki where Syme hut is located about 2000m above sea level.

Mt Taranaki is centred on a peninsula that sticks out into the Tasman Sea, so these clouds carry a lot of moisture in them. When the clouds get slammed into the mountaintop, the moisture condenses onto solid surfaces as rime or hoarfrost, always growing towards the wind. Initially, the surface of this ice is quite textured, therefore somewhat grippy. However, as I found out, when the sun hits it in the morning, the surface texture melts quickly, revealing the slick and smooth ice beneath.

Hut and dunny on the second morning. Pentax MX, Ektar 100 May 2024

I spent a day at the hut, waiting while the storm blew. There was no one else there. It was cold, but at least it was safe. My stove hadn’t fit into my pack so I couldn’t heat water. I mostly just stayed in my sleeping bag. I didn’t take a book to read with me. There was a book at the hut called the “Bushman’s Bible’. In fact, there were three copies. None of them read any better. Mostly I just meditated and slept. I had just enough food to last the extra day.

The second morning dawned clear. I figured I had to descend the mountain, before the weather deteriorated again that evening as per the forecast. I had no rations left. The water tank at the hut was frozen. In fact, the entire side of the mountain was coated in about two feet of ice. There was about a five hundred metres of steep descent to the grass. Completely frozen. What I needed was a set of boots, crampons and an ice axe. What I had was a pair of trail runners. Mt Taranaki had caught me out.

Hoarfrost on hut. Pentax MX, Ektar 100, May 2024.

I thought I could see a way down, that was feasible. It involved descending the steepest part of the ridge about a 100m from the track, where there were more boulders sticking out of the ice slope. Those boulders would act as my catching features, if I went into a slide. They also acted as footholds that I could step on without slipping. I knew I had to crawl on all fours, and to move very slowly and carefully. I intuitively knew I was in a lot of danger, but the seriousness of the situation didn’t dawn on me until I had crawled and slid my way about halfway down the frozen slope.

My technique was working, but the gaps between the boulders were getting bigger and bigger. Then I dislodged a rock, and I watched it slide and tumble all the way down. I thought at some point, this rock would stop. It didn’t. It just kept tumbling and sliding for hundreds of metres, until it eventually faded into the slope of the mountain. That’s when it hit me. I could have been that rock. It was at that point I realised I had to stop moving.

Sunrise after the storm. Pentax MX, Ektar 100, May 2024.

Besides, the boulders had well and truly run out. I was on an ice slope with no catching features directly beneath me. It looked like there may be a cliff about 200m below me. I turned to look above me and all I saw was a near vertical wall of ice. Where I had come down. Somehow. The conditions were deteriorating rapidly, the further down I got, the more slippery everything became. There was no way I could go back up, and I couldn’t go sideways and the only way down would have been the fast way down. I was well and truly stuck on the side of a frozen mountain, and the storm was coming in again later that day. The slope was raining tumbling bits of melting ice around me. Windchill was many degrees below and I had nowhere to go. I was in trouble.

That’s when I made a decision to call for help. My phone had been flat for over 24 hours, but I had a PLB so I dug it out of my pack. These days I don’t always carry a PLB, but I was bloody grateful I had it at that moment.

It is impossible to know what would have happened if I didn’t take the PLB with me up on that mountain. Perhaps I might have waited at the hut. Perhaps I would have checked the forecast more carefully. Or perhaps I would have been in exactly in the same situation, but without a means to call for help.

I pulled out the antenna. “Use only in grave and imminent danger.” I pushed and held the button. Nothing happened. Then I tried again, and again. Eventually, a red blinking light came on. I saw it flash green two or three times. I was in the lee of the mountain, reception was bad. And so I waited.

The trail at the top of Fanthams peak, before the descent. Pentax MX, Ektar 100, May 2024.

The sun was out, but soon I started shivering. I had all my layers on, including a puffy jacket, fleece pants and a hard shell jacket. So I got out my bivy bag and sleeping bag and got into it. Very carefully so I wouldn’t toboggan down the slope in my ultra slippery sil-nylon coffin. There was nothing to anchor to and nothing to hold onto. I had about a foot wide foot placement at the base of the boulder, that was the only contact with the ground that was stopping me sliding down the slope. So I moved very carefully and made sure I didn’t drop anything.

I don’t know how much time had passed. I had no way to measure the time. The PLB was flashing red, which I figured was bad, so I’d hold it up, move its position, until it flashed green, then back to red. I couldn’t get it to flash green continuously. Was this thing even working?

Rime detail, first light. Pentax MX, Ektar 100, May 2024.

About two hours after I had set off my device, the helicopter showed up. It simply popped out from behind the mountain, and there it was! I was wearing my orange hard-shell jacket, so very carefully I got out of my bivy bag and kneeled up onto my guardian angel boulder and waved my arms continuously. I knew they had to sight me. After doing a couple of loops, the heli went up to Fanthams Peak and landed two blokes in full mountaineering kit, who walked down the track, then across the slope towards me, while the heli circled overhead. They were wearing boots, crampons, had an axe, helmets and a pack each.

”How on Earth did you get here with that kind of footwear? It’s quite impressive you managed not to kill yourself.” - the volunteer SAR said to me.

”People die on this kind of terrain all the time”- the police SAR said.

“We are gonna winch you out of here.”

Which they did. I got winched off the side of Mt Taranaki with a helicopter. Alongside one of the SAR volunteers. Then the heli went back and got the police officer with the bags. They dropped me at the carpark, three kilometres from the visitor centre. The police officer said they wouldn’t charge me. I was grateful, shaken, humbled.

Truly, I underestimated New Zealand.

The Frozen Volcano. Pentax MX, Ektar 100, May 2024.

“You did the right thing.” -said the parks lady afterward at the visitor centre. Her and her husband had both volunteered for the mountain rescue for over thirty years. They weren’t my rescuers, but she had seen a lot of rescues on Taranaki. She said the shoulder season catches people out. In winter, people go prepared. In spring and autumn people don’t realise how bad the weather can get. How suddenly it can change.

“You know, sometimes I see the helicopter and wonder what’s happened…The main thing is you got down okay.”

Which I did. Thanks to the Taranaki Search and Rescue Team.

-A.S.
Lenah Valley, 27 June 2024