Destination Kiama – part one The Wilderness Coast – Murray White

There was a time when I thought the only worthwhile photographic destinations were found at the end of a dirt road. And not only that, I dearly wanted to believe that the value of any subsequent aesthetic dividend was directly proportional to the severity of a track’s corrugations or the number of tyre patches required. Alas, as is often the case with other burden/reward relationships, over time this link has proven at best, coincidental.

Now for thirty odd years I have thoroughly enjoyed pointing my vehicle (and camera) toward many of the roughest and least welcoming tracks across Australia’s outback and top end, and I have indeed been privileged to visit some very special locations. So it came as something of a surprise to my wife, Ana, when I suggested that we might visit the south coast of NSW. And yes, we would be mainly driving on bitumen roads, not unsealed and dusty stock-routes.

To say that Ana was overjoyed with this proposal has probably understated somewhat her actual response; for once her seatbelt will likely be a fashion accessory, not an indispensable restraint. So we set off with few plans but much enthusiasm apparently this was how normal people took a holiday!

Broadly speaking we would travel from our home west of Geelong, to Orbost, then follow the coastline until about Kiama, before swinging west and returning home. We had about four or five weeks up our sleeve, and decided that in the absence of a destination defining ‘Wally World’ we would let fate and inclination dictate where we would stop and what we may do.

This article is the first of four that details our travels and photographic encounters, and should not be seen as blueprint for others to follow, but rather as a collection of thoughts and experiences from only one perspective. We all have our own particular incentive to travel (or not) and will each assign a relative value to those aspects of a road trip that apply to us.

In terms of photographic equipment I used a 4×5 Ebony RSW view camera, or a roll film Mamiya 7, each with three basic lenses and loaded with Ilford FP4 plus, and always anchored to a tripod. I have a particular strategy with the choice of which camera to use that I will elaborate on later in the series, but fundamentally I will reach for the Ebony when the light is stable, the wind is low and I am walking solo. The Mamiya’s forte for me is during inclement weather, or when walking with others and needing to be more photographically nimble.

Ana and I travel in a 4WD ute with a slide-on camper. This is a fairly recent set up for us, and one that has placed some limitations on where we can now travel, but at the same time has permitted us to remain relatively self contained, and allows for a quick deployment after we have selected a camp for the night. On this trip we chose to camp mainly at national park sites, although there were also some commercial caravan parks and a few free or informal camps.

The reality of the latter option in the rather populous retiree/tourist belt that defines the south coast of NSW is limited. Where we would routinely find a quiet water crossing or similar setting to camp in the station country up north, the smaller land holdings of what is largely a coastal suburbia, required a more understanding, and indeed law abiding approach.

Fortunately the national park camps (at least along the coast) are quite appealing to a bush enthusiast, with usually excellent facilities and quite efficient layouts. In addition, and by definition, they are located directly within areas of high conservation value, together with the photographic possibilities that may flow on from that. Of course fishers and other park users also frequent these same locations, but we found that outside of the peak seasons they were an ideal base from which to enjoy the natural environment.

Our first night was spent at Banksia Bluff in the Cape Conran Coastal Park. It is a large camping area, just a short walk from the rocky headland that many photographers find quite irresistible. Unfortunately the mega-bushfire of 2019/20 decimated almost all of the forested hinterland both here and indeed throughout much of the coastal forests that were to come.

Nearby Croajingolong National Park was hit quite savagely, and it is hard to know when or even if it will ever totally recover. Wingan Inlet camp is currently closed for major repairs, and while the small camp at Mueller Inlet remains open, it is only really suitable for canoe based visitors. We encountered some restrictions from bridge and other infrastructure rebuilding works throughout the area, and unfortunately completion seems to be some time away. Similar reconstruction along the parks of NSW is also ongoing, although we never found our travels to be greatly impacted by the works.

Nonetheless, our two nights spent in Victoria were enjoyable and we settled into a routine that would be sustained for the trip’s duration, catering well for our shared and individual interests. Ana is not a photographic enthusiast, but she does enjoy bushwalking, observing native flora and fauna and general sight seeing ñ mostly at what could be considered for holiday makers as a civilised time of the day.

I, on the other hand, love getting up early in the hope of witnessing that quiet light that I think only predawn can bring. In practice this means that I get one or two (sometimes three.) hours to walk around with my Ebony as the world in the particular space I find myself wakes up to a new day. I find these contemplative wanders quite stimulating, and even if I return to camp with not a single image exposed, there remains a sense of having experienced landscape as a participant rather than an observer.

For the remainder of the day I am quite content to undertake those activities with Ana that she would prefer and in many cases this could be a bushwalk or stroll along the beach, where I carry the Mamiya (just in case!). The reality for me in this setting is that I typically find more traditionally scenic images than my morning amble may reveal, but I generally don’t feel compelled to commit them to film.

In recent years I have transitioned from a broader view of our environment to an intimate, more selective assessment of its character. This is not to devalue the grandeur of a big picture capture; I remain as humbled by that interpretation of our landscape as probably anybody else, but I am particularly drawn to those natural subjects and implied relationships that can slip through the cracks of a less restrictive outlook.

And so it was as we began our travels along the coast; Ana capturing reality in all of its unmitigated glory on her iPhone during the daylight hours, and me searching for something not yet lost, ironically hopeful that illumination in all senses of the word will occur somewhere here on the fringes of darkness. Our brief time spent in Victoria following what is affectionately known as the Wilderness Coast set the scene for the next month. As we steered our camper through Genoa and toward the NSW border, the winding arterial blacktop offered precious few turn-offs to the coast. This was soon to change.