Robert's Ramblings

I'm not sure what they mean by 'concept restaurant' here in Hamad Airport.

On closer inspection almost every square in this mosaic carries an American theme. There are a few international tokens but mostly there are repeated themes of big cars, American airlines, gas stations and route 66.

I simply see red.

For a couple of years now I have been commuting along a route that takes me past the Barker Inlet Wetlands and the Wingfield Waste and Recycling Centre. I'd noticed the windmills, the prolific bird life and the sights and smells of a civic rubbish dump but in my head I was already at my day job.

Then the roadworks began. The speed limits dropped. I was forced to linger along the route. The more I lingered the more I saw, the more I wanted to see and capture. I've now discovered a huge network of wetlands and am only just beginning to explore them.

It's the windmills I first noticed so that's where I'll start.

Lake Lockie and its big brother, Lake Hattah, in the Hattah-Kulkyne National Park of northern Victoria is little natural wonder I have only just discovered.

As the Murray River winds it's way through the arid mallee scrub of this region it spills out onto wetlands that cycle from wet to completely dry.

For much of the year there is little water here and even though just as beautiful when dry I can't help but prefer just a little water in this land locked place.

It's hot. The run off from the swampy on the roof fills a bucket under the the eave of the house. Every drop captured. Every drop precious.

It's nearly full. Time to water but not every plant can handle this almost brackish Adelaide water.

Under the verandah with a glass of cold water in hand I watch each drop fall. I watch the shape, transient, fluid, rise, splash and slump.

Like a stranger in a strange land I see the shape of water.

It's hot. The run off from the swampy on the roof fills a bucket under the the eave of the house. Every drop captured. Every drop precious.

It's nearly full. Time to water but not every plant can handle this almost brackish Adelaide water.

Under the verandah with a glass of cold water in hand I watch each drop fall. I watch the shape, transient, fluid, rise, splash and slump.

Like a stranger in a strange land I see the shape of water.

Lake Lockie and its big brother, Lake Hattah, in the Hattah-Kulkyne National Park of northern Victoria is little natural wonder I have only just discovered.

As the Murray River winds it's way through the arid mallee scrub of this region it spills out onto wetlands that cycle from wet to completely dry.

For much of the year there is little water here and even though just as beautiful when dry I can't help but prefer just a little water in this land locked place.

The Bluebottle jellyfish (Physalia utriculus), also known as the Pacific Man O'War, is a complete stranger to my local South Australian waters but here on Bondi Beach, Sydney we found hundreds of them washed ashore.

One poor unsuspecting child must have found these bright blue toys scattered all around too irresistible to ignore. We heard the screams from the pavilion and an ambulance shortly arrived. I hope they are OK.

Curiously we noticed no obvious warnings leaving it up to beach goers to decide how to manage their presence.

'Birdcages', hidden away in Angle Place Sydney is a magical art installation where the artist, Michael Thomas Hill, has combined suspended birdcages accompanied by recorded sounds of the birds that once lived here.

Walking beneath these cages and hearing those beautiful sounds was both strange and soothing. For a brief moment the city wound it's way back to a time of just bush land and bird call before the spell was broken and the city restored.

Thank you Ken for sharing with us this little gem in a big city.

To me lighting is everything but usually its about how the light falls on the things around us.

Sometimes though it is just about the lights and the lighting in Sydney's 'The Establishment' blew me away.

It's more of a globular cluster really rather than a planet but I could not make that roll off the tongue.

Welcome to Planet Establishment.

I've only visited Sydney's Bondi beach a few times and every time I find the visual spectacle of surf, beach and thousands of people quite amazing.

After walking the water's edge from one end to the other and back again I was reminded just how seriously the surf lifesavers were taking their responsibility. Fortunately we saw no incidents but I can imagine that the combination of Bondi Beach's attraction to tourists and unfamiliarity with a surf beach's local conditions could easy lead to tragedy.

All surf lifesavers I noticed had their eyes pealed to the water, from the swimmers playing in the inshore break to those further out. Every one of them had a sense of readiness about them.

As we left I noticed the bronze statue, 'Surf Life Saver, 1998', sculpted by Sydney artist Diana Webber and dedicated to the Surf Life Saving Movement recognising the voluntary contribution of surf lifesavers.

I want to wish everyone out there a wonderful and prosperous 2020. May your hard work or just simple good fortune bring you joy and prosperity.

To all those battling the Australian bushfires either as volunteers or defending your homes, 2020 may start out rough but please stay strong and know our thoughts are with you.

There is so much polarised opinion about the bushfires, the lives lost and that we should have cancelled the Sydney fireworks as a mark of respect. So many opinions and points of view make it hard to have a balanced perspective. For us, entertaining international friends who'd been planning to see the Sydney fireworks as a watershed in their own story of loss, grief and renewal biased my opinion. I am so happy for them that they experienced Sydney's amazing spectacle and I hope they can no move on with their own lives.

We met so many other international visitors here in Sydney and for them the fireworks were a very special part of their Australian adventures. We should never forget that our Australian generosity of spirit and our willingness to give in the face of hardship, extends internationally and binds us as a global community.

That said, as my token of respect for the the bushfires, the lives lost and those defending livelihoods this image is the anticipation of 2020 and the amazing spectacle of Sydney Harbour just moments before midnight.

May 2020 be an awesome year for you all.

… Robert Rath

Decorator crabs make fascinators seem lame in comparison to the extravagance of their accessorising.

There are hundreds of species of crabs which decorate themselves in this way and fashion really has nothing to do with it. It's all about survival.

By attaching algae or sponges of their immediate environment they can go about their business unnoticed.

If they move into new territory it's a simple matter of discarding the old and accessorising with their new home.


Decorator Crab, Naxia aurita


Photo: Robert Rath, 'Decorate Me' 1/160s f/18 ISO320 100mm

Going back over some of my older photos I came across this golden orb weaver but the background was unusually green and lush. I usually associate golden orb weavers with the arid Australian outback so what confused me for a while is that I was expecting to see muted browns as I was sure this image was taken in the Flinders Ranges.

Going back over dates and travels I soon discovered I'd taken this image in the tropical lushness of a Tongan forest. With that realisation I was taken back to that particular day and how almost every walkway through that forest was barricaded by web after web after web of these giant spiders.

To say the least this experience triggered my old arachnophobia but at least the chance to photograph these amazing creatures went a long way to quell that innate fear.


Tongan Giant Spider, Nephila tetragnathoides


Photo: Robert Rath, 'The Golden Orb Weaver' 1/250s f/4.5 ISO100 200mm

Just imagine being two inches tall, opening your eyes, turning on your torch and coming face to face with ...

Assuming you are still with me you'd quickly become entranced by those amazing blue-green opalesque eyes and what at first seemed ugly becomes beautiful.

You can spot a gurnard perch from quite a distance at night by those incredible eyes. Just scan your torch back and forth anywhere under Edithburgh Jetty and before you know it you too will be experiencing being face to face with this beautiful creature.


Photo: Robert Rath, 'Face 2 Face' 1/160s f/22 ISO320 100mm

One of the wonderful things I like about macro photography are those tiny little surprises you discover when you zoom in on your subject while editing.

What seemed at first to be a solitary nudibranch, in this image Ceratosoma brevicaudatum, turned out to have a few hidden gems, those little creature just too small to see while diving.

In this image there are three minute shrimp around 1mm in length cleaning the nudibranch's skin while a minuscule amphipod of less than a half a millimeter in length hovers above.

Love those little gems.


Photo: Robert Rath, 'Little Gems', 1/60s f/18 ISO320 100mm

This hand sized fan worm is one of the many spectacular creatures that inhabit our local waters. I say local but it really is another world altogether.

It looks like a plant; like some exotic miniature palm tree. This guy however is a worm which builds a tubular casing away from its supporting structure so that it can extend its frond like appendages out into the current to feed.

Approach too close and in an instant it will retract back into the safety of its tube. Imagine a coconut palm doing that!

Southern fan worm Sabellastarte australiensis.


Photo: Robert Rath, 'Another World' 1/50s f/7.1 ISO320 15mm

In the visual cacophony of this scene the camera has captured everything from the jetty pylons and fish swimming near the surface to the bright orange nudibranch grazing on the rocky reef foreground. Is this really a fish's eye view within the underwater world? Perhaps, but not for the reasons you might think.

Optically speaking the lenses of all creatures with non-compound fleshy eyeballs including fish, reptiles, birds and mammals including us would all be classed as 'fish-eye' according to camera lens manufacturers. Those normal rectilinear lenses we are so accustomed to on our cameras are an intentional optical debasement which introducing their own unique distortion in an attempt to replicated our brain's ability to straighten curves when our common sense tells us they should be straight.

A fish-eye lens, in its simplicity, lets the brain of its beholder do the work instead. As for how fish feels about those peripheral curves as they swim about their business, I'd suggest they could not care less about straight lines anyway.


Photo: Robert Rath, 'The Fish's Eye' 1/100s f/11 ISO160 8mm

This image is the last of my Bronzies set; a collection of tiny bronze figurines by Tomm Otterness, adorning his much larger 'Other Worlds' installation within Hamad International Airport.

Yes it probably is the cliché of clichés. Still, because they are in bronze there is something 'other worldly' which disconnects it from humanity.

So, clichéd it may be but I love the feeling of love and nurture here and to me it symbolises family in any flavour you choose to imagine.


Photo: Robert Rath, 'Family' 1/10s f/4.0 ISO800 34mm

There is no doubting the reason for two commuters being here. It's work travel. The suit and tie, the briefcases, the smart attire and not a handbag in sight are all the evidence I need.

If I were to hazard I guess, I'd say it was early morning at some outlying platform. The man, who catches the train here every morning has never said hello to the woman before being way too shy. This morning however he takes a chance.

'Looks like it might rain today' he suggests hoping to break the ice.

She looks up, sighs and without saying a word wonders to herself if she should have brought an umbrella.

Out of earshot the platform attendant checks the track in his own little world.


... bronzies by Tomm Otterness, 'Other Worlds', Hamad International Airport


Photo: Robert Rath, 'Waiting For The Train' 6s f/22 ISO800 16mm

Little bronze personalities came to life in all sorts of nooks and crannies as I continued exploring the 'Other Worlds' installation by Tomm Otterness during my Doha transit.

The four individuals coming together in this scene particularly caught my attention. The couple on the left appear attired in working clothes, overalls and an apron while the couple to the right appear to be of a different class with the more elegant clothing, sandals and even a wristwatch.

Despite their differences I felt that some some cordial engagement was taking place here along with a mutual respect. Perhaps a negotiation or an agreement yet to be made. Perhaps just a meeting of minds.


Photo: Robert Rath, 'A Meeting of Minds' 0.8s f/4.5 ISO320 16mm

Little bronze personalities came to life in all sorts of nooks and crannies as I continued exploring the 'Other Worlds' installation by Tomm Otterness during my Doha transit.

The four individuals coming together in this scene particularly caught my attention. The couple on the left appear attired in working clothes, overalls and an apron while the couple to the right appear to be of a different class with the more elegant clothing, sandals and even a wristwatch.

Despite their differences I felt that some some cordial engagement was taking place here along with a mutual respect. Perhaps a negotiation or an agreement yet to be made. Perhaps just a meeting of minds.


Photo: Robert Rath, 'A Meeting of Minds' 0.8s f/4.5 ISO320 16mm

My very first memories of gazing into the heavens and marvelling at the night sky were not so different from the little bronzie in this image.

In my case it was not bronze but the painted steel roof of my parent's car. Somehow those extra few feet made all the difference.

All these year later those memories burn just as brightly when ever I lay on my back and gaze up at the stars.


Photo: Robert Rath, 'Stargazing' 10s f/18 ISO800 26mm

When I first transited via Doha's Hamad International Airport I was impressed by the large interactive bronze sculptures by American artist Tomm Otterness.

At the time I captured some wide angle images of the pieces in context but did not really give them the attention they deserved. I did however notice they seemed to covered by odd little bronze protrusion, like fresh buds on a tree.

On my second visit I decided to explore these little bumps and was delighted to discover tiny little bronze figurines in all sorts of strange places and predicaments. I was so enamoured with these little people I create as set of images I call 'The Bronzies'.

In 'Emergence' I imagined a little bronzie living a life of darkness in a void beneath the ground knowing nothing of the world above until the day a hole appeared.
On climbing out, in a single moment, I feel this scene represent excitement, fear, welcome, relief and joy.

It is delightful, whimsical and simply beautiful. Thank you Tomm.

Photo: Robert Rath, 'Emergence' 1/20s f/3.2 ISO320 16mm

What do dogs and hermit crabs have in common?

I wonder what kind of answers I'd get if I strolled down a typical busy shopping mall and asked random passers-by this question?

Well to start with, dogs and hermit crabs have two eyes. Perhaps you could even draw some tenuous connection between kennels and shells. But really, why would I even pose such a question? From my point of view it is all about having a willing photogenic subject.

For divers, hermit crabs are one of the easiest critters to photograph. They go about their business regardless of being observed. Even if you do startle them back into their shell it doesn't take long for them to re-emerge. And, if some unscrupulous diver were to pick one up and place it somewhere particular to stage a photograph, the hermit crab would happily show itself again when the coast was clear and carry on about its business.

So in my opinion, dogs and hermit crabs both make the most awesomely photogenic and most easy-to-photograph subjects.


Photo: Robert Rath, 'Of Dog and Hermit Crabs' 1/160s f/22 ISO160 100mm

'Hello' said the whale as he swam closer and closer.

'Hello' said the whale as he craned for some intelligent response.

Finally in frustration at their lack of courtesy he came rushing in fast, stopped, then gave a gentle nudge. 'What part of hello did you not get!

Ah ..., memories of Tonga. I can't wait to be swimming with whales again.


Photo: Robert Rath, 'What Part of Hello Did You Not Get!' 1/320s f/7.1 ISO160 15mm

You'd go mad too if you had to carry this home around on your back wherever you went. At least down here you'd not have to worry about clipping power lines, low overhang bridges, getting tangled up in tree line avenues or finding somewhere out of the sun.

I found a lot of these little hermit crabs on the algae in and around Edithburgh jetty. They are so comical to watch as they navigate the between the the stipes and fronds. One moment they seem to know where they are going, the next they've gotten stuck or slipped and are heading somewhere completely different.

This crab, less than half the size of my little fingernail has chosen a particularly tall and impressive shell for its size. Still it seems to be in control. Perhaps its not so mad after all.


Photo: Robert Rath, 'The Mad Hatter', 1/160s f/22 ISO320 100mm

Three weeks ago on an Edithburgh night dive I found a tiny little leafy seadragon less than two inches long that took my breath away. It was that beautiful red translucent colour of a juvenile probably only a month or so old.

This dive I was in for a wonderful treat. I found my not so tiny dragon again, not right next to the jetty but some distance off in the sea grass. Wow had it grown in just three weeks.

Now it had nearly doubled in size and was beginning that red to yellow body colour transition. Its appendages were growing and becoming more complex and its markings becoming more pronounced.

Seeing this beautiful golden dragon a second time as it grows has inspired me to make another trip to Edithburgh to hopefully find it again and capture its change into a fully mature leafy.


Photo: Robert Rath, 'Golden Dragon ', 1/160s f/18 ISO320 100mm

It's night time and you are cruising down Kelp Street looking for a tasty morsel or two. There are no street lamps on the sandy bottom making the ocean floor extra dark. Here the darkness is your friend keeping you safe from monsters. Or is it?

A little confused you create some illumination and ... welcome to your worst nightmare. At least you would be if you were small fish and in less than 1/100th of a second later you'd have become the monster's dinner instead.

To me however this monster under Edithburgh Jetty, the amazing Tasseled Anglerfish (Rhycherus filamentosus), is simply beautiful and I get a thrill every time I find one.


Photo: Robert Rath, 'Nightmare on Kelp Street', 1/160s f/18 ISO320 100mm

There is no such thing as being lucky, Luck is everywhere, you just need to persist at something long enough and what to you may seem lucky was simply inevitable all along.

This weekend was our second trip to Edithburgh for the year. The weather was perfect creating the opportunity for a number of dives including a night dive. Despite some periods of poor visibility during tidal changes the diving was sensational with the marine life being as prolific as I can remember.

It was on my night dive that I came upon this tiny little crested weedfish, no more than 3cm in length and my very first in over twenty five years of diving here. I simply could not believe my luck as I watched it vi for the best position a top a clump of kelp for the passing plankton. It was quite enthusiastic in its foraging endeavors and seemingly quite oblivious to my presence.

I watched for a while, captured some images and then bid the little guy farewell. After that I really did not care if I did not see any other interesting critters for the rest of the dive or even the trip. I was content with my little bit of crested weedfish luck this time round.

Photo: Robert Rath, 'Crested Weedfish', 1/160s f/18 ISO320 100mm

I had spent more than five hours under that sparkling rippled surface that most Edithburgh visitors never get to see beneath. I had searched all around and out beyond the jetty, northward up to to the swimming pool and all over the sea grass beds searching in vain for a leafy seadragon. The diving was lovely but alas no dragon.

Over my years of diving leafy's have been infrequent visitors here. A handful of dragons will take up residence for a couple of years and then disappear with years between. I guessed it was just that time again.

That night I was in for a rare treat. Not more than ten minutes into my night dive this tiny and beautiful dragon, not more than 40mm in length, came into view setting a precedence for a wonderful night dive and hopefully heralding the leafy seadragons back to Edithbugh.

Photo: Robert Rath, 'From Small Things Great Things Come ', 1/160s f/14 ISO320 100mm