Mansfield
189 creative works found
-
A lone tree marks the top of the first in what seem like infinite folds of earth leading up to the summit of Mt Buller and across the Australian Alps
-
Snowing at Craig’s Hut – Victorian High Country. / A beloved part of the “Man from Snowy River” film set. / Sadly Craig’s Hut was lost in the bush fires but I / believe it will be rebuilt. More landscapes and scenics here
-
Pendergast Hut at Mount Buller, after one of the first snowfalls of the season. Other Landscapes ... More Mountains ... More Mt Buller ...
-
More steep skiing at Mount Buller. Other Action ... More Mountains ... More Mt Buller ...
-
The precipitous north-facing slopes of Mount Buller’s Summit, with Mansfield in the distant west. Other Landscapes ... More Mountains ... More Mt Buller ...
-
Summer in the Victorian Alps, the sun sets into the bushfire smoke haze. Other Landscapes ... More Mountains ... More Mt Buller ...
-
A maze of snowgums in the Buller backcountry, stripped of their foliage by the bushfires last summer. Other Landscapes ... More Mountains ... More Mt Buller ...
-
Other Landscapes ... More Mountains ... More Mt Buller ...
-
The graphic Skyline run, Mt Buller. Some IR-type treatment in PS. Other Landscapes ... More Mountains ... More Mt Buller ...
-
Early on a winter morning, from Mount Buller. Other Landscapes ... More Mountains ... More Mt Buller ...
-
Chairs are buffeted by the snow guns before winter at Buller. Other Landscapes ... More Mountains ... More Mt Buller ...
-
Sunset over the mount, viewed from chamois. / Digital pic with some PS magic. Other Landscapes ... More mountains ... More Mt Buller ...
-
Snowgums and alpine meadows burst into colour around Mt Buller village at sunrise. / (This is best viewed up large..) Other Landscapes ... More Mountains ... More Mt Buller ...
-
Pendergast Hut, Mt Buller. Other Landscapes ... More Mountains ... More Mt Buller ...
-
Late afternoon sun over Moonlight Ridge on Buller. Decision time. Another epic drop, or home for a well-earned cold one? Other Landscapes ... More Mountains ... More Mt Buller ...
-
Flat chat down the Summit Run at Buller… Other Landscapes ... More Mountains ... More Mt Buller ... More Action ...
-
Pastel on Colourfix paper – 50cm x 35cm Another example of my fascination with water! The Howqua River runs through the area known as the High Country which is in the Mansfield area of Northern Victoria. I did this painting (and a few others) during a camping trip a couple of years ago. The time of day here is late afternoon/early evening. The Howqua area is another truly beautiful part of Australia. Featured in the Rural Around the Globe group – Feb 2009 / Featured in Realist Paintings about Water group – Feb 2009 / Featured in Creative Cards – July 2009 / Featured in First Things group – July 2009
-
"He hails from Snowy River, up by Kosciusko's side - Victorian Alps Summer -The HDR Experience
by Philip JohnsonFOR BETTER VIEWING GO LARGER There was movement at the station, for the word had passed around / That the colt from old Regret had got away, / And had joined the wild bush horses – he was worth a thousand pound, / So all the cracks had gathered to the fray. / All the tried and noted riders from the stations near and far / Had mustered at the homestead overnight, / For the bushmen love hard riding where the wild bush horses are, / And the stockhorse snuffs the battle with delight. There was Harrison, who made his pile when Pardon won the cup, / The old man with his hair as white as snow; / But few could ride beside him when his blood was fairly up - / He would go wherever horse and man could go. / And Clancy of the Overflow came down to lend a hand, / No better horseman ever held the reins; / For never horse could throw him while the saddle girths would stand, / He learnt to ride while droving on the plains. And one was there, a stripling on a small and weedy beast, / He was something like a racehorse undersized, / With a touch of Timor pony – three parts thoroughbred at least - / And such as are by mountain horsemen prized. / He was hard and tough and wiry – just the sort that won’t say die - / There was courage in his quick impatient tread; / And he bore the badge of gameness in his bright and fiery eye, / And the proud and lofty carriage of his head. But still so slight and weedy, one would doubt his power to stay, / And the old man said, “That horse will never do / For a long a tiring gallop – lad, you’d better stop away, / Those hills are far too rough for such as you.” / So he waited sad and wistful – only Clancy stood his friend - / “I think we ought to let him come,” he said; / “I warrant he’ll be with us when he’s wanted at the end, / For both his horse and he are mountain bred. “He hails from Snowy River, up by Kosciusko’s side, / Where the hills are twice as steep and twice as rough, / Where a horse’s hoofs strike firelight from the flint stones every stride, / The man that holds his own is good enough. / And the Snowy River riders on the mountains make their home, / Where the river runs those giant hills between; / I have seen full many horsemen since I first commenced to roam, / But nowhere yet such horsemen have I seen.” So he went – they found the horses by the big mimosa clump - / They raced away towards the mountain’s brow, / And the old man gave his orders, “Boys, go at them from the jump, / No use to try for fancy riding now. / And, Clancy, you must wheel them, try and wheel them to the right. / Ride boldly, lad, and never fear the spills, / For never yet was rider that could keep the mob in sight, / If once they gain the shelter of those hills.” So Clancy rode to wheel them – he was racing on the wing / Where the best and boldest riders take their place, / And he raced his stockhorse past them, and he made the ranges ring / With the stockwhip, as he met them face to face. / Then they halted for a moment, while he swung the dreaded lash, / But they saw their well-loved mountain full in view, / And they charged beneath the stockwhip with a sharp and sudden dash, / And off into the mountain scrub they flew. Then fast the horsemen followed, where the gorges deep and black / Resounded to the thunder of their tread, / And the stockwhips woke the echoes, and they fiercely answered back / From cliffs and crags that beetled overhead. / And upward, ever upward, the wild horses held their way, / Where mountain ash and kurrajong grew wide; / And the old man muttered fiercely, “We may bid the mob good day, / No man can hold them down the other side.” When they reached the mountain’s summit, even Clancy took a pull, / It well might make the boldest hold their breath, / The wild hop scrub grew thickly, and the hidden ground was full / Of wombat holes, and any slip was death. / But the man from Snowy River let the pony have his head, / And he swung his stockwhip round and gave a cheer, / And he raced him down the mountain like a torrent down its bed, / While the others stood and watched in very fear. He sent the flint stones flying, but the pony kept his feet, / He cleared the fallen timber in his stride, / And the man from Snowy River never shifted in his seat – / It was grand to see that mountain horseman ride. / Through the stringybarks and saplings, on the rough and broken ground, / Down the hillside at a racing pace he went; / And he never drew the bridle till he landed safe and sound, / At the bottom of that terrible descent. He was right among the horses as they climbed the further hill, / And the watchers on the mountain standing mute, / Saw him ply the stockwhip fiercely, he was right among them still, / As he raced across the clearing in pursuit. / Then they lost him for a moment, where two mountain gullies met / In the ranges, but a final glimpse reveals / On a dim and distant hillside the wild horses racing yet, / With the man from Snowy River at their heels. And he ran them single-handed till their sides were white with foam. / He followed like a bloodhound on their track, / Till they halted cowed and beaten, then he turned their heads for home, / And alone and unassisted brought them back. / But his hardy mountain pony he could scarcely raise a trot, / He was blood from hip to shoulder from the spur; / But his pluck was still undaunted, and his courage fiery hot, / For never yet was mountain horse a cur. And down by Kosciusko, where the pine-clad ridges raise / Their torn and rugged battlements on high, / Where the air is clear as crystal, and the white stars fairly blaze / At midnight in the cold and frosty sky, / And where around The Overflow the reed beds sweep and sway / To the breezes, and the rolling plains are wide, / The man from Snowy River is a household word today, / And the stockmen tell the story of his ride. The Bulletin, 26 April 1890. / THE MAN FROM SNOWY RIVER by A.B. “Banjo” Paterson Equipment: Nikon D300, Sigma 10-20mm lens , Manfrotto Tripod / Technique : HDR 5 Exposures, Photomatix 3.2, Capture NX
-
Taken near Mansfield, Australia during a Geelong Camera Club weekend away. / A group of riders was crossing the river as we were photographing the scene. They very kindly agreed to our request to go back and cross over again so that we could take some snaps. The evening light coming through the trees was diffused beautifully with the dust from the road. / Nikon D700 with 24-70 mm lens. View more of my landscapes by going to: / Landscape
-
Taken during a camera club camp outing last weekend in the high country. / HDR 3 images -1,0,+1
-
Taken during a recent club outing to the high country
RedBubble is a great place to find art, design, photos and writing from over 80,000 talented people.
You can buy their stuff
On stunning greeting cards, awesome t-shirts or beautiful prints to hang on your walls.
Risk Free Returns
It’s really simple. If you’re not happy with your purchase for any reason, we’ll fix it.
About RedBubble
Since February 2007 we’ve shipped over 304,800 items to more than 70 countries around the world.
Join In
Sign up for your free account, upload your work, join some groups and share your creative genius with the world.