One of the many age decorative tiles addoring the sandstone bricked walkways down to Leighton Beach.

A simple image tracing the train lines south from Leighton Beach to North Fremantle rail station and further on to the Fremantle skyline.

For a city of just 1.4m people, Perth has a surprisingly vast and efficient rail network.  That said, the Fremantle line, built in 1881 was actually closed in 1979 due to the ever expanding Stirling Highway being seen as the only way to travel.  Not surprisingly, the line was reopened a few years later and remains both a pleasant journey and a part of popular culture.

The corner of the Leighton Beach footbridge is a wonderful vantage point to admire an ever retreating sun.  The wind generally whips up the coast towards the camera’s vantage point and while blustery, is often very refreshing after a long hot summer day.

The flash of colour on the left hand side of the image is not an alien spacecraft and is instead an artifact created by the angle of the sun and the glass of the lens; it’s usually an undesired element, but sometimes I feel it adds to the intensity of the moment.  The sun is literally so bright that you’re seeing stars.

Okay, so maybe I stretched the truth a little.  This shot wasn’t taken with my wide angle lens, but as I came across it tonight I figured it was too good not to post.  There are still remnants of the old rail workings at the Leighton Beach rail yard.

Rails are so linear and rigid, yet their lines can be very useful in drawing an eye to the horizon, or in highlighting something at their juncture.  There’s also the added allure of decaying structure and form as the grass and weeds slowly reclaim the land.

As a photographer I’m perpetually torn between using my wide angle (16-35mm) lens and my wide to telephoto (28mm to 300mm) lens.  I learnt my craft on the latter however the former revolutionised my way of seeing things.  It was quite a mindshift to think about the additional width that the lens gives you and just how to take photos to fully take advantage of that.

I’m still honing that skill, but an image like this makes me want to never take it off of the camera.  Of course, as soon as I think that, I see a situation and ultimately a photo that disagrees.  Certainly, when I was first starting out, it sure was easier to have a fixed lens, because, then it didn’t matter.

Freedom is both a blessing and a curse.  I’m not complaining, mind.

Leighton Beach is one of the last remaining peaceful beaches on the coast between Perth and Fremantle.  It’s never too busy, you can take your dog, and you can always get a park.  That’s all about to change when the new developments come into play in the coming years around North Freo station and it’s sad to think this little slice of history will soon be lost to spiralling apartments and cafe lattes.

For now though, the resplendent foot bridge linking the Stirling Highway and Port Beach Road across the Freo line stands; the old comms tower is sadly no longer with us.  Hopefully the bridge, which will feature on this site over the next few days, will remain.

Brightly coloured townhouses poised atop a hill beside the West Coast Highway in Scarborough melt into a blur of early dusk light and car momentum.

The strong south westerly winds we’ve been cursed with this year manage to dredge up all sorts of miscellania onto the beach, though even more tends to appear in the autumn when the strong ocean currents kick.

Looking fresh from a japanese restaurant, the afternoon offerings could do with some soy sauce.

Part of the Kings Park War Memorial is a 180° semi circle that includes inscriptions of many of the theatres of wars that Australian soldiers fought in.

One of the other aspects of the wall is its wonderful ability to transfer sound.  Due to the delightful laws of physics, a person can sit at each end and simply by speaking under their breath easily relay messages to the other person without anyone outside hearing.  Unless, of course, they choose to sit in the middle of you!

A juvenile seagull hunkers down to begin a preening regime on the shoreline of Lake Monger.  Many young seagulls are following their parents around this time of the year learning how to trick your mate out of a chip and the best angle of inclination with which to dive bomb a car windscreen.  They make such a quiet squeak; quite in contrast to their older, surlier brethren.