In my teenage years, after I became obsessed with all things alpine, I discovered the work of a number of ‘70s era nature photographers who were working on the micro scale in black and white.

snow3I found a number of large format photo books that gave me an insight into the small places and ephemeral beauty of ice and snow, wind blown sand and leaf fall.

snow5I followed their lead and spent endless hours looking downwards to the tiny worlds under our feet. One July, on a week long ski tour of the Bogong High Plains, I found myself camped near Johnston Hut, with an entire day to enjoy my birthday as I wandered amongst snow drifts and emerging poa tussocks, amongst stately snow gums as high ragged clouds pushed through, with the promise of fresh snow.

As I lent in to hear the small, and glean something from the temporary and incredibly complex tangle of the worlds at ground level, I was struck by a sense of wonder, of specialness, of amazing things happening just beyond our sight. I felt richness stitched into the complexity of thick tangles of grass, of bark thrown on snow, and bare branches against a pale, rich winter sky.

snow11As we wait for the decent falls of a late coming winter, I have been struck by that same old sense of wonder at the beauty of the ephemera of wind blown grass, stone and snow.

The following are some pics from Mt Hotham and nearby hills over Opening weekend 2014.


Little Higginbotham
Little Higginbotham