Entries by Robert

The day I met George was one of the most magical moments in my life. It was an experience I will relive, will reflect upon and treasure for the rest of my life, ... but I am getting ahead of myself.

It was our second day in the waters just off the west coast of the island of Vava'u in the Kingdom of Tonga and our first day with Vinney our Tongan skipper. That morning during our briefing Vinney described to us how he had prayed the night before for the insight and the guidance that would bring us to the whales but he also told of his respect for the will of the oceans and the whales regardless of our success or otherwise. We knew then we had someone special leading our little expedition.

It was late morning when we spotted George, a young male humpback whale lounging on his own in open blue water. Our excitement was palpable but subdued as until now all our encounters with these graceful giants were fleeting, barely lasting a few seconds and most in poor visibility. This whale did not move on as we slowly drew near. In fact an enormous pectoral fin slapping the water seemed to welcome us as the four of us and our guide slipped into the water.

At first George just seemed happy enough for us to swim around him as he rolled from side to side slapping the water with those massive fins. It was obvious he was happy for our company so I positioned myself a few meters away in front and a little below to photograph the proceedings from what I thought would be a safe distance. Perhaps George's interest increased as he became more comfortable with, perhaps it was something else. What ever the reason this whale decided it was time to play.

Imagine a 25,000 kilogram 12 meter whale eyeing you off and begin swimming directly towards you. Remembering the safety instructions of the briefing you tell yourself remain motionless, tucking in arms and legs for protection when every instinct is screaming 'run'. All the while trying to be mindful to not touch or interfere in any way. At the last moment the whale appears to dive underneath but then lifts you gently onto its head, the pressure of moving water and whale gently holding you there.

This was one of the most terrifying moments of my life but at the same time I was completely struck with how effortlessly and gently I was brought up to the surface, rolled over to his left and let me slide off. As he rolled back to the right I found myself staring into that big beautiful searching eye. For a moment I was lost in that unfathomable gaze but then he rolled further over as he swam and I realised I was being guided down that expansive white belly out of harms way of his two massive pectoral fins.

The last part of George I saw as he continued his roll was that enormous tail fluke. I experienced another moment of terror as I realised the damage that tail was capable of, but it was was short lived as he gently swished that enormous fluke out of harms way leaving me tumbling in his wake.

The extremes and the intensity of emotions I felt, the profoundness of what just happened, the shear inability to even comprehend it all left me shaken. It was as if George new I needed a moment to compose myself but when I had he headed straight back for another round!!

We spent quite some time with George before we had to leave him. Each of us had just experienced something exquisite, something very personal and something very rare. My gratitude for George's gift to all of us that day and for Vinney finding him out there is something I will cherish forever.


Photo: Robert Rath, 'George's Gift', 1/400s f/6.3 ISO320 15mm

I'd already wandered around the grounds of Mandalay House for more than an hour.

I Imagined spaces full of celebration and laughter, then quiet contemplative souls seeking the healing salve of a peaceful garden juxtaposed with the focus of the gardener creating, shaping and nurturing.

... and then I saw her.

She did not move as she sat on that cold stone plinth untroubled by rain or sun or birds.

Oh to be able to sit so still, at least for a little while and enjoy the sunshine and the garden of Mandalay House.


Photo: Robert Rath, 'Untroubled by Rain or Sun', 1/800s f/1.4 ISO400 50mm

One of the things we have come to love, expect, admire, desire and despise are mass produced products from China.

Walk into any shoe shop 40 years ago and you were probably in a family business with an assortment of very different looking shoes to ponder and shoes from.
Most of the shoes on display would have been locally made with just a smattering of imported ones, usually Italian, in the more upmarket stores.

My next door neighbor often talks about the good old days working for local Adelaide shoe manufacturer, Clarks Shoes. He talks about the artistry of the 'last', the skill of buying the best leather and the workmanship of crafting each shoe. He made it very clear you did not need to be Italian to craft fine shoes though in his case a little person heritage might just have made a difference.

Soon the conversation veers north. Initially he talked of the buying of materials from China, then finally to the decline and transition to importing everything.
The workers retired or transitioned into other equally fragile manufacturing industries. The wonderful shoe-making machinery was either sold or discarded for scrap and a once vibrant local industry disappeared.

Now when we walk into a department store and see the same shoes replicated over and over down an isle, all we really see is cheap and made in China.


Photo: Robert Rath, 'Made In China', 1/800s f/1.4 ISO400 50mm

There's more than one story here.

There is a great chalice subtly placed in the centre of the frame so as to not draw too much attention.

At first I thought that the golden underside was from years of being handled but then noticed the copper tones and tarnished bronze around the rim.

Perhaps it was made that way, perhaps it became that way or perhaps it was restored that way.

What ever its history, it is just one of many stories here.


Photo: Robert Rath, 'Stories', 1/250s f/2.8 ISO160 50mm

Roman had a life long dream to come to Australia, to visit Uluru, the Australian outback and to experience as close to true wilderness as possible.

He's used to rugged terrain, to challenging climbs and to the demands of the trail but in his home near Salzburg the mountains are full of people, full of habitation and no place is truly wild.

As beautiful as the lakes and snow covered mountains of his home in the Austrian Salzkammergut are they are such a part of daily life that they ironically become just part of the local scenery.

We started out from Adelaide by car, made our way up through Coober Pedy, through to the red center of this great continent and then out west to Ulurua and Kata Tjuta. We spent a little time around the beautiful Kings Canyon before undertaking the long road trip back to Adelaide again. No matter where we were, on the highway, Uluru, Kata Tjuta, or on the ridgeline of Kings Canyon we always stopped to experience the sunset and marvel in the extraordinary places we found ourselves.

Despite his desire to to experience just how vast Australia is I think he was glad to see the end of many thousands of Australia kilometers driving or as a passenger watching the country rolling by.

Back in Austria again I am sure he remembers the sunsets, has forgotten the long kilometers and will cherish his time here.


Photo: Robert Rath, 'When Boyhood Dreams', 1/25s f/16 ISO160 15mm

Sometime coincidences are just a little too spooky.

I was a little bit lost on the the back roads of County Cork when a tiny cemetery and chapel caught my attention. Later I learned it was Kilshannig Cemetery.

Despite the rain I pulled off the road as best I could, found a small gate in the heavy stone wall and ventured inside.

I am not usually one to read the texts and think about the history inscribed on tombstones and lives lived. Instead I prefer to keep it a purely visual experience.

I spent a little while walking around the chapel and feeling the somber mood of the low light, the wintry drizzle and sullen overcast sky.

As I was ready to say goodbye and head back to the comfort of a warm and dry vehicle one tombstone caught my eye and drew me in to read the words inscribed.

'In loving memory of Jim O'Connor Pendys Cross Dromahane Died 22nd Nov 1995 ...'

Usually I would have stopped there, but something kept me reading.

His parents were buried here. His 18 month old sister was buried here. There were family here acknowledged back to William O'Conner who died in 1772.

Still, nothing too unusual for an obscure out of the way Irish cemetery ... And then I saw what was written Last.

'Tim (Timmy) O'Connor (Late of Pendys Cross) Died 18th December 1998 Interred in Adelaide Australia'

Adelaide, where I now live, and the farthest place on the planet from Kilshannig Cemetery, was the very last line.

It was chance that brought me here, it was chance I noticed this grave and unusual for me to have read the inscription to the end.

So now as I drive past any cemetery here in Adelaide I think about Timmy O'Conner, and wonder what brought him here.

Coincidence?


Photo: Robert Rath, 'When Worlds Collide', 1/30s f/13 ISO160 17mm

Connor (not his real name) and Troy are about as likely an Irish couple of lads you could imagine enjoying the craic at Maddens Bridge Bar in the seaside town of Bundoran.

... or are they?

Look a little closer and you will notice the Liver Bird, mascot of the Liverpool Football Club. Could one be an English soccer fan?

Look closer still and you might just be able to make out the Springbok, mascot of the South Africa national rugby union team. Could the other be a rugby union fan?

So perhaps we have and Englishman and a South African in and Irish seaside bar and that craic could turn a little spirited if the conversation were to turn to which game is the 'real' game.

Well for now they are all smiles and I'm glad I left the bar that way.


Photo: Robert Rath, 'The Craic', 1/25s f/2.8 ISO1600 50mm

If you were thinking I'm referring to Adelaide you'd be forgiven but if you really know Adelaide you might just be able to work out a few things.

Just because an image is out of focus does not have to mean the details yield no clues.

The title suggest travel, the forms suggest a couple rolling carry on luggage. Air travel perhaps?

If you are familiar with Adelaide airport then try and imagine walking through it with translucent glasses and trying to match any other lights, colours or textures. You wont.

If you know me you could guess at one of three different places in the world and the title might still make sense.

Are the couple walking towards me or away from me or maybe it's even a selfie?

Why are there no forms suggesting other people?

So have I succeeded in making a blurred image interesting and left you asking questions?

... good.


Photo: Robert Rath, 'Coming Home', 1/60s f/2 ISO640 50mm

And we thought the way up was hard work!

The first section up that chained face of Uluru is steep and would indeed be dangerous if it weren't for the chain. As steep as it is though that first section gives only a little insight into the actual effort to complete the rest of the walk to the summit and back down again.

Coming back down, down, down again I really became aware of just how steep that climb really is and was more grateful for that chain that I'd ever thought I'd be.


Photo: Robert Rath, 'Down, Down, Down', 1/100s f/11 ISO800 15mm

There's an expression regarding some people; 'you can't take them anywhere'. Well it does not apply to my dive buddy Andy who will happily dive with me in the most atrocious of conditions, and I do mean happily!

The other weekend we headed down to one of my favorite dragon lairs near Victor Harbor. The conditions looked fine as we arrived and even up to the moment we entered the water. Then it all changed.

Visibility started at around 2m which would have been fine but as we headed along the sand-line the visibility all but left us.

Pretty soon we had less than 40cm of visibility with the water full of smashed algae and all manner of benthic muck stirred up from recent swells. I do not usually get seasick but the combination of surge and colloidal muck surging back and forth a few centimeters from our faces made it a very close thing.

... and then we found our first dragon!

Despite the conditions we found four leafy seadragons this dive and none seemed too fussed, happily moving back and forth with the surge.

I was convinced my images were going to mired in backsctter and be a complete waste of time. I even left the camera in its housing all week before cracking it open and uploading my images.

They were all pretty bad but I decided in the end to show at least one of diving in the muck with a dragon.


Photo: Robert Rath, 'Muck Dragon', 1/100s f/11 ISO800 15mm

We are currently caught in the grip of winter with freezing nights and cold wet days. Still Adelaide has quite a mild winter compared to other cities so you will get no complaints from me.

Clearly the city in this image its not Adelaide but Galway, Ireland and about as far away from here as you can get.

What captivated me here while standing in the freezing cold, the wind and the rain was how many people walked by with happy faces, engaged in animated conversations or just gazing at the lights and reflections in puddles in wonder or contemplation.

Perhaps the rain forces most people to put their phones away and just enjoy the things they see around them, like street lights in puddles.


Photo: Robert Rath, 'The Fascination of Puddles', 1/30s f/2.5 ISO800 50mm

We were on some lonely road somewhere near Hawker in South Australia's mid north. The sun was getting low (but not yet low enough) and an old ruined farmhouse came into view. It was the perfect opportunity to stop for some images.

I walked up to the ruins, around the ruins and captured them from all manor of perspectives before walking back to the car again. Then I noticed him.

With his tripod placed politely over the fence I watched as he captured a series of images from just that spot.

Given the remoteness of this place I can't think of any reason why you wouldn't climb that fence and explore the location unencumbered.

Perhaps he did climb over that fence after we left. Or perhaps he couldn't. I will never know.


Photo: Robert Rath, 'Over The Fence', 1/100s f/6.3 ISO100 200mm

This small tree meagering an existence on the parched skyline of Kings Canyon is living a struggle which makes most of our lives look like that of pampered royalty.

If we tried to live naked in such an inhospitable but oh so beautifully place I am sure that stark beauty would be lost in self consuming misery.

Perhaps there is a message here in the will to live of a small bent tree that just might be worth noticing.


Photo: Robert Rath, 'A Bending of Wills', 1/640s f/18 ISO160 15mm

As we neared Coober Pedy from the North the landscape changed from flat to strange as the desert erupted in white cones of discarded subterranean earth.

This evening the opals of Coober Pedy did not come from the toil of miners below but from sun and the clouds and the sky above.


Photo: Robert Rath, 'Opals In The Sky', 1/3s f/11 ISO250 15mm

Do you find mannequins a little disturbing but can't help stare at them waiting for a blink, or twitch or some give-away that there's something more than just paint and plastic?

Then I know you'd enjoy Nina Ventura's mannequin transformations. This image is from her exhibition at last year's SALA festival at the Adelaide Convention Center.

I am looking forward to seeing what new work she will be exhibiting next month for SALA 2016 and I will be looking for a blinks, twitch or tell-tale give-aways!


Photo: Robert Rath, 'Waiting for Her to Blink' 1/125 f/2.8 ISO1600 200mm

From Sydney to the high street of Galway, you could not get further apart in both culture and distance but Irish pubs would seem to be a uniting thread.

The difference is however that in Sydney it's all about the idea while in Galway it's just simply the real deal.


Photo: Robert Rath, 'The Real Deal' 1/25s f/2 ISO800 50mm

What's in a view? Quite a lot it seems.

The harbour, the bridge, the quay, the ferries, the cruise liners, the skyline, the clouds, the people, the buildings, the skyscrapers, the balconies, the flags, the yachts, the players, the hustlers, performers, the tourists, the locals and all that stuff between the spaces.

Cafe Sydney delivers.


Photo: Robert Rath, 'Cafe With a View' 1/3200 f/9.0 ISO800 15mm

Tibbot Bourke, the first Viscount of Mayo was a ruthlessly proud man so Irish legends tell.

One evening at dinner, Tibbot's wife Maeve mused how her brother Shane O'Connor was a stronger man than her husband.

In his resulting rage Tibbot sought the man accused of being his better and they fought to the death.

The following evening at dinner Tibbot presented her brother's head and demanded his wife declare who now was the better man.

In distress and fear Maeve put argument to rest declaring that only her husband could have been so certain that her marital commitment could weather such a test.

With his ire quenched and his vanity pacified Tibbot proceeded to enjoy the rest of his evening unconcerned for his wife's grief.

The story is a true account adapted from Jennifer Liston's poem 'Muscle' and the poor fellow is not Shane O'Connor but part of the Nina Ventura collection.

I am heartened by the fact that most men in our time are a little better behaved that Tibbot Bourke, circa 1600 AD.

Photo: Robert Rath, 'The Fate of Shane O'Connor' 1/60 f/2.8 ISO1600 200mm

It was not meant to be a Rapid Bay night dive. It was not even meant to be a dusk dive but in the end it was a race against the light.

As our days are as short as they will be for the year it is easy to get caught out not planning an afternoon dive early enough to beat the sunset.

I remember looking up at the dappling yellow and greens of the sunset above us and we still had not found any leafy seadragons.

Then as the undersea gloom of dusk descended we found them and to our delight we found an entire family, two adults and one juvenile.

For the next 20 minutes we played in the gloom until it was too dark to focus and it was too cold to bare.

It was never the plan but in the end it was wonderful to experience the leafy's at dusk as the gloom engulfed us.


Photo: Robert Rath, 'Dusk Dragons', 1/60s f/10 ISO800 15mm

Yesterday we said our last goodbyes to an extraordinary man who in his short 51 years touched the hearts, minds and souls of everyone who came to know him.

To me, Kym was a childhood buddy, my very first real friend (not including family and neighbours), having met when we were five years old and just starting primary school.

I remember sleep-overs at his parents' home set amid the family vineyard in the little town of Rowland Flat.

I remember playing hide and seek among the vines or in one of the sheds full of strange agricultural equipment.

I remember the little creek which ran past the back of his home, catching tadpoles, falling in the water and Kym's mum giving me a dry set of his clothes to wear.

Whatever game I suggested Kym was up for and he had as many challenging games of his own including us launching off the tractor shed wearing batman suits to see who could fly the farthest.

Our lives took different directions for many years, but in the last few years I am so grateful we connected once again.

People will remember and miss Kym for many reasons. Some for his gorgeous Barossa wines, some for his love of hot-rods, some for his infectious and irreverent larrikinism and some because he had secured a special place in their hearts.

I will remember Kym as my mischievous boyhood friend from a time in our lives when we had not a care in the world, no clue about what we wanted to do and all of life was in front of us for the taking.

All of us will miss you.

Cruise on Kym Jenke, 1964-2016 and beyond ...


Photo: Robert Rath, 'Cruise On'

Back in the water, it's dropped to a chilly 15 degrees and will be heading further down from there through winter and into spring.

Despite the cold it is good to be diving again after too long on dry land and it was great to see all the usual undersea suspects again including this red sea star, Pentagonaster dubeni, on its way up this pylon to bigger and better things no doubt. A real rising star!

Rapid Bay is one of those special places that we are so fortunate to have so close to home. Sometimes I take for granted just how easy it is to drive, park and dive and grumble about how heavy my weight belt is for the short walk from car to water. Underwater though I feel nothing but privileged and gratitude to share a place human are just not supposed to be. At least not for very long anyway.

My dives will be a little shorter than usual with the cold water and my old wetsuit but the cold wont keep me away. Perhaps next dive I'll find just how far that sea star got.


Photo: Robert Rath, 'Rising Star', 1/125s f/10 ISO800 15mm

There's a short time twenty to thirty minutes after sunset where something magical happens to Uluru.

The combination of darkening sky and the spreading yellow glow of the horizon lights the land in a deep orange glow and makes the rock look like it's glowing from within.

So many people had packed up and headed back for their evening's creature comforts.

Those they stayed after dark and until the stars came out got to see something special.


Photo: Robert Rath, 'The Rock After Dark', 2.5s f/8 ISO160 36mm

I remember once hearing an old Polynesian saying, 'The gods do not deduct from man's allotted span the hours spent in fishing'.

I am certain that there also exists the same grace when taking the time to watch the sun fall through the changing colours of the darkening horizon into evening twilight.

For a time we watched that golden orb descend its own diameter every couple of minutes until it kissed the land, and slid gently beneath a desert sea.

We watched the twilight fade through orange, green then to a dim violet grey before making our way down onto the now starlit plain.


Photo: Robert Rath, 'Desert Grace', 1/160s f/16 ISO160 15mm

Down in that valley far, far below hidden amidst the unlikely combination of eucalyptus trees and ancient cycad palms is Kings Creek.

From up here the sense of scale is all but gone, the grandeur becoming abstract with the world below looking like some artisan's crafted landscape garden.

From down there looking back up at the red walls of Kings Canyon the scale is both stunning and overwhelming.

To appreciate a place like this just a little you need many perspectives. To really appreciate it you need time, as much time as you can give it and a willingness to let it seep into you.

I took so many images here and they all pale against my memory. Instead I have chosen some drama with Roman completely unaware where he was standing as tries to capture his own memories and feelings.

Kings Canyon is a place I will definitely come back to spend time without trying to capture what simply can't be captured in a camera.


Photo: Robert Rath, 'To Capture That Which Can't be Captured', 1/5000s f/8 ISO160 15mm

Looking directly up into the Milky Way and the constellation of Scorpio I see two wandering planets amid a sea of stars

An orange Mars, the largest and brightest lingers on the back of the scorpion gazing off at the eerie glow of the Blue Horsehead Nebula to the left.

The red giant Antares lights a vast portion of the Rho Ophiuchi cloud complex with a soft orange glow while the speckled white star cluster of Messier M4 just above it hides its true nature, some 75 light year across from 7200 light years away in the distant past.

A white Saturn off to the left of centre pretends to be like any other bright star only its solid light gives its true nature as a wanderer of our solar system away.

The magnificent black Lagoon Nebula at the bottom looks for all the world like part of the night sky is missing as like so much of the dark structures of our Milky Way it hides the millions upon millions of unnamed stars behind it.

Try as I might, there really are no words to describe all this in one small part of the Milky Way under an Uluru desert sky.


Photo: Robert Rath, 'Wandering In a Sea of Stars', 33 x 60s f/4 ISO1600 50mm

There is a huge debate debate in Australia in regards to the storage of radioactive waste.

As the world grapples with the problems of dealing with the waste of nuclear power stations, science and the use of radioactive materials in medicine some governments are looking at Australia's vast barren unpopulated outback regions as a possible dumping ground. Unfortunately some people in our government are seeing only the commercial opportunity and are lobbying their cause.

The arguments for dumping nuclear waste here are strong. The arguments against dumping are strong. Yes we have vast regions which are unpopulated, dry and geologically stable but if you ever get to visit these places you will find they have life and beauty all of their own.

Perhaps the real problem here, the creation of waste is the one which should be tackled rather than sweeping it under the rug or into the outback.


Photo: Robert Rath, 'Outback Apocalypse', 1/8s f/18 ISO250 15mm

These intricate structures carved into Petermann Pound in the Watarrka National Park carry the lifeblood of the Australian outback, water.

It had been a week since the rains and still some water remains in pools and some has been taken into the earth to nurture the trees of the pound.
Most however has been collected into Petermann Creek before finding its way into the Finke River and eventually the South Australian border hundreds of kilometers to the south east.

From up here these desert waterways could indeed be the veins of some mythical dream-time creature giving life to this arid part of the Australian outback.


Photo: Robert Rath, 'Veins of Life', 1/1000s f/5 ISO100 17mm

Nothing beats the raw power power of a two kilometer long diesel-electric train pulling a full load but the interstate road trains we shared the roads with have an awesomeness all of their own.

Most of the road trains we saw consisted of a prime-mover and three trailers and probably weighing in between 100 and 150 tonnes. You really get to appreciate their scale when attempting to overtake a convoy of two or three in a row.

I have great respect for the drivers of these brutes, driving hundreds of thousands of kilometers each year driving a vehicle that could easily take out a small outback town in moment of inattentiveness.

I'm no truck enthusiast but I can appreciate what some people are with these beasts on our roads.

This Australian made beast is a Western Star 6900 FXC powered by a Cummins ISX Euro 5 ,15 litres 600Hp diesel engine.


Photo: Robert Rath, 'Desert Train', 1/250s f/5.6 ISO250 200mm

For the most part the critters we encountered at Uluru and Kings Canyon were timid and did not easily allow themselves to be photographed.

This Ring-tailed Dragon (Ctenophorus caudicinctus) at the start of the Kings Canyon rim walk was one notable exception.

He was happy to sit here on this rock watching just meters from the walkers passing along the trail, most of whom did not even notice him there.

Only when I started crawling up to him on my belly did other passers by take notice. I'd swear the expression on that dragon's face was amusement at a human on his level.


Photo: Robert Rath, 'Ringed Tailed Dragon', 1/100s f/8 ISO100 200mm

A view sought after by many visitors to Uluru who then encounter the ethical dilemma which follows, climb and fulfill a lifelong dream or respect the wishes of the traditional owners and stay off the rock.

In 1985 the Australian government gave title back to the traditional owners of the region and negotiated a 99 year lease allowing them to continue developing the the area for both its tourism and cultural importance.

Most Australians will have at least considered their decision to climb or respect this incredible sight from the ground before making the effort to travel here. Nearly all international visitors will only become aware of this when they are reading the sign at the beginning of the climb having just traveled tens of thousands of kilometers.

This international visitor chose to fulfill his lifelong dream and gaze out from a very privileged vantage.


Photo: Robert Rath, 'Privileged Vantage', 1/250s f/13 ISO100 15mm