Small windows.
Ordinary days.

Good Vibrations

Noosa Heads · Sunshine Coast · Queensland

May 2026

I’ve been dodging Noosa for years. Fifty-fifty chance of a park. Then maybe one wave in two hours, and with that, someone drops in. It’s the standard Noosa Heads Drill — paddle out, sit in the pack, wait your turn, watch the perfect sets roll through while the lineup rearranges itself around a dozen unspoken hierarchies. Eventually you tire and just settle in and enjoy the view. The waves, the people, the pristine shoreline. There are worse ways to spend a day. But it’s not surfing.

The thing about Noosa is that it rewards the unreasonable. The people who find it worth getting out of bed in the dark. On a rainy, cold weekday morning, after a long run of swell has already given most people their fill. The carpark is empty. The water is grey. The headland is just a dark shape against a sky that hasn’t decided what colour it wants to be yet.

You paddle out in the dark.

The wave(s) at Noosa Heads is one of those rare ones that gives you time to think. Long, peeling, forgiving. When you get a good one to yourself — no one on the shoulder wishing you to fall, no one dropping in — you remember why you drove here in the dark in the first place. It sits in the memory bank for a long time.

Afterward, you make a coffee from the back of your ute, fending off the volley’s of “you goin mate?” questions from the “yawnies”…those who slept in a little longer, and desperate to dispatch of their metal carriage and get into the waves. The sun burns over the headland — slowly at first, then all at once — and turns the whole bay to gold. The national park is beginning to stir. Walkers scurry across the headland track, coffee’s an water bottles in hand. The carpark has a snake of vehicles looping through.

You were here first. You got your waves. You’ve got a coffee. The view from up here is heaven.

Transitions

Coolum Beach · Mt Ninderry · Sunshine Coast · Queensland

May 2026

"The material object is a form that exists in linear time. The thought is a momentary form of the same thing. Thoughts exist within us because higher dimensions are within us, while objects exist outside of us in apparent space and time." — Ivan Antic, Samkhya

Between two worlds. Night and day. Natural and man made. But really a connected continuation — white to blue to pink to red to gold to black.

I slowed the shutter down to 20 seconds and something interesting happened. Time stopped being fragmented. Moments merged into continuations. Mt Ninderry stood still while the cars on the Coolum-Yandina Road busied themselves around it — the work commute, the late return home. Trees grow from its sides. Sun bakes it. Cold rain taunts it. It stays solid. For a time. Eventually even mountains move, succumbing to the elements. I don't have a lens that can capture that kind of movement. Not yet.

I've been moving between worlds myself lately. Driving 2,500 kilometres last week, 50 this week — just the local beach and back to surf and photograph. From solitude in outback Queensland, to connection at home on the property where a steady crew of inspiring humans have been present. Now their exodus heralds something quieter. Winter's inward season. A time to contemplate and create.

It's funny what happens when you have an instrument that can play with time. It shows you that the fragmentation is an illusion. The mountain, the ocean, the rocks, the car, the sky, the people — different movements, different speeds, but part of the same cycle.

We move fast. Mt Ninderry moves slow.

Pink Hour Rock Show

First & Second Bay · Coolum Beach · Queensland

May 2026

The first rooster call woke me at 3am. Interesting cloud formations caught my eye, lit by moonshine. I was heading to the beach to surf anyway — may as well get down early and catch pink hour. Strong ginger chai to get the fire going in the belly, to go meet the fire in the sky. Beautiful morning on the local beaches. Coolum Bays. Shot for an hour, then surfed.