Skip to main content

Men did not love Rome because she was great. She was great because they had loved her.


Who put that rock there? Tasman Peninsula, January 2011.

That's Hippolyte Rock there. Apparently, it's a small granite island and part of the Tasman Island Group, close to the south-eastern coast of Tasmania around the Tasman Peninsula. I snapped this shot from around Eaglehawk Neck (to the north). The island has a flat top and is surrounded by steep cliffs up to 65 metres high. It belongs to the Tasman National Park and houses a whole bunch of breeding seabird species, including Little Fairy Penguins, Short-tailed Shearwater, Sooty Shearwater, Fairy Prion, Common Diving-Petrel, Silver Gull and Black-faced Cormorant. Australian Fur Seals also knock about the island, which makes it an attractive proposition for Great White Sharks...


The view south from the east side of Tasman Peninsula. January 2011.

The presence of the seals probably does enough to justify the tag "shark-infested". No sign of dorsal fins in this photo though.


The Devil's Kitchen, as viewed from Tasman Arch. The Tasman Peninsula. January 2011.

One thing about Eaglehawk Neck is that it's a hard place to stop taking photos. Even if the weather is rubbish, there's plenty of impressive sights to see. At some point soon we'll get back there...


The view north, from the Blowhole. Tasman Peninsula. January 2011.

Comments

Roy said…
Nice shots, Kris! It definitely makes me want to visit down there.
Jim said…
These shots are brilliant.
Roddy said…
So will your father. One day!
Kris McCracken said…
Roy, get on down here!

J Bar, it's easy when the vista does all the work.

Roddy, as if.
Roddy said…
Isn't that a top that Henry has?
Roddy said…
Isn't that a top that Henry has?

Popular posts from this blog

Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it...

I still have the robot on the job. Here you can see the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery . And here is a poem: Soliloquy for One Dead Bruce Dawe Ah, no, Joe, you never knew the whole of it, the whistling which is only the wind in the chimney's smoking belly, the footsteps on the muddy path that are always somebody else's. I think of your limbs down there, softly becoming mineral, the life of grasses, and the old love of you thrusts the tears up into my eyes, with the family aware and looking everywhere else. Sometimes when summer is over the land, when the heat quickens the deaf timbers, and birds are thick in the plumbs again, my heart sickens, Joe, calling for the water of your voice and the gone agony of your nearness. I try hard to forget, saying: If God wills, it must be so, because of His goodness, because- but the grasshopper memory leaps in the long thicket, knowing no ease. Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it... I like Bruce Dawe. He just my be my favourite Austral...

There was nothing left. No reason, no conscience, no understanding; even the most rudimentary sense of life or death, good or evil, right or wrong.

Here is a self portrait. I’m calling it Portrait of a lady in a dirty window . Shocking, isn’t it? However, it is apt! Samhain , Nos Galan Gaeaf , Hop-tu-Naa , All Saints , All Hallows , Hallowmas , Hallowe'en or HALLOWEEN . It’s Theme Thursday and we’re talking about the festivals traditionally held at the end of the harvest season. Huh? No wonder Australians have trouble with the concept of HALLOWEEN. For the record, in my thirty-two L O N G years on the planet, I can’t say I’ve ever seen ghosts ‘n goblins, trick ‘n treaters or Michael Myers stalking Tasmania’s streets at the end of October. [That said, I did once see a woman as pale as a ghost turning tricks that looked like Michael Myers in late November one time.] Despite the best efforts of Hollywood, sitcoms, and innumerable companies; it seems Australians are impervious to the [ahem] charms of a corporatized variant of a celebration of the end of the "lighter half" of the year and beginning of the "darke...

In dreams begin responsibilities.

A life at sea, that's for me, only I just don't have the BREAD. That's right, Theme Thursday yet again and I post a photo of a yacht dicking about in Bass Strait just off Wynyard. The problem is, I am yet again stuck at work, slogging away, because I knead need the dough . My understanding is that it is the dough that makes the BREAD. And it is the BREAD that buys the yacht. On my salary though, I will be lucky to have enough dough or BREAD for a half dozen dinner rolls. Happy Theme Thursday people, sorry for the rush.