3 Nights in a Tent

Back home again to the south coast between Sydney and Wollongong. I've written before about distinctly difficult and memorable camping trips. About fears and dangers in the Royal National Park. About that precarious cliff-side drive north from Wollongong. This was the special occasion route on the way to or from the fortnightly visit to my grandmothers home in Wollongong.

Not sure what brought about any of these special occasions, beauty, boredom or belligerence. I've always liked the south coast's rugged and precarious landscape. Coal peeped through the cliff face along which we drove and collected in our swimmers in the surf of many of the beaches. Back to the unscathed small towns I have again started to trek with my girls. This is the simple life.

Three nights in a tent. iPods blazing through the night. Wind blowing non stop. Icy waters and the constant half glimpse of that elusive shark, dolphin or whales fin amongst the white water between sand and horizon. These images collected on the recent visit a fellow image maker alongside, and a sculpture on an early morning walk with the youngster.