This year is moving faster than I’d like, and I think we can all agree on that. I turned 25 this year, and not only has it sparked a few wandering questions and thoughts in my mind, but it has also forced me to reflect on this crazy, winding journey we call life. As I notice the salt and pepper flecks in my hair, I’m reminded of the passage of time. If you decide to read this blog, I thank you. It will be a short reflection on my experiences holding a camera, some amazing moments from this year, and the important questions I find myself asking as I venture forward in life—though I can’t claim to have any real answers. Join me as I dive into my ‘Why.’

I’ve been home for about a year now, and while the transition back to everyday life wasn’t exactly smooth, it’s been a valuable journey. I can be stubborn, sometimes impatient, and maybe even a bit arrogant. Turning 25 made me feel like time was slipping away, as if I might be falling behind. But despite those moments of doubt, I often feel deeply grateful for the opportunity to chase my dreams and work tirelessly toward them. Some days, I’m filled with joy at how fortunate we are to be able to shape our own paths. Other days, it feels like I’m running on glass or wandering through a fog, trying to find something solid to hold on to. And that’s okay. Life isn’t meant to follow a perfect blueprint, and what works for others might not work for me. But as I continue to mature, I hope to gain wisdom not just from my successes, but from my failures too.

I’ve missed the wild Australian coast—the salted breeze and its powerful, calming chaos. Even though I prefer to keep my feet on the wet sand, there’s something about its unpredictability that brings peace. I’ve had to remind myself to slow down and embrace each moment. It sounds simple, I know, but lately, it’s meant spending less time behind the camera and more time just observing.

This year, for the first time since I was 17 and left school, I can officially call myself a student again. Back then, I earned myself a butchery trade – a handy skill when you’ve always envisioned farm life. That qualification took me around the world, and now it’s opened the door to a bachelor’s degree in Media and Communication at Newcastle University. Somewhere along my travels, I decided I wanted to be a storyteller, only to realise that jumping into journalism is about as unpredictable and tough as trying to make it as an artist. But it’s not about the money – I love telling stories.

Life has a funny way of working things out, doesn’t it? I set out to become an artist or ‘storyteller,’ which, as it turns out, isn’t exactly a fast track to financial stability. Now, at 25, I’ve experienced so much, but I’m starting to notice my wallet’s about as thin as my hairline (turns out that turning 25 comes with a free subscription to hair loss! Woohoo!). My brothers and mates like to joke that I’m a strong gust of wind away from looking like a dropped lollipop or a half-sucked mango pit. It shouldn’t surprise me, considering the family genes, but hey, at least I’ve got a good personality to fall back on, right?

Earlier this year, my dad invited me to join him on a trip to South Africa. He was facing passport issues and needed to return to the motherland. I jumped at the chance, so eager to capture the experience that I nearly forgot to pack any clothes amidst my camera gear! We hadn’t visited South Africa since I was nine, so the reunion with my dad's friends felt surreal, especially meeting relatives I’d never known. The excitement surged within me as I organized a few days dedicated to epic wildlife photography in Pilanesberg National Park, just north of Johannesburg.

On a cool morning in Pilanesberg, I experienced something truly unforgettable. It was my last morning on safari, and I found myself relaxing in the back seat of the jeep, tuning out the excited chatter of kids eager to head home. We slowed to admire a group of steenbok, their small frames perfectly camouflaged in the long, dry grass. We also stopped near a spot where we had seen a pair of cheetahs the evening before, the memory still fresh.

As the brakes creaked and the truck stopped, I looked out the back at the horizon and rugged landscape, as the sun started to rise. Suddenly, I saw it—a stunning giant leopard emerged from nowhere. Its coat stood out starkly against the low light and dark green bushes. I admit, I didn't say anything. I held my shutter down until my memory card started to malfunction and my finger cramped, clasped over my shutter. I didn't want to miss it, and I didn’t want it spoiled by others with selfie sticks, Prada sunglasses, and lip filler. It was selfish, I know that. Eventually, everyone turned to see this beautiful creature slowly sauntering across the road.

I have developed a fondness for mountain climbing, I am not really sure where the fascination came from but it has me searching Google Maps looking for rugged peaks I can climb, and conquer with my camera. It is a sense of adventure, the physical release and easing of the mind in the cool winds, and vast landscapes as I climb through unexplored areas. My solo trek to EBC was nothing short of mind-blowing. I spent my mornings in the frigid mountain air, alone, sometimes accompanied by a mob of stray Himalayan dogs, and it was beyond peaceful.

One thing I’m genuinely grateful for is the experience of discomfort. Now, hear me out—I’m not completely crazy. I see those small moments of pain as lessons, like building blocks, some bigger than others. The wall they form might not be perfectly even or level, but it’s strong, kind of like the ancient tessellated Inca architecture. Scraped knees, broken fingers, and, of course, the epic dislocated shoulders and broken noses. I remember my shoulder hanging out of its socket, not agonizing, but definitely uncomfortable, as my humerus gently rubbed against my ribs, like a human xylophone.

Each of those moments has stacked up, one on top of the other, creating a mental toughness that’s become invaluable. When I walk into a room, I know there’s no one tougher, no one who works harder, and no one who wants it more than I do. So, I’ve come to appreciate the scraped knees and broken noses—they’ve turned into my superpower in their own way.

I spent a few weeks in country Victoria, helping out my uncle on various farms. We stacked, cut, and burned wood piles. In the brisk early mornings, I sat huddled up in all my layers, just like when I was little. But now, it’s different—we can laugh at filthy jokes, have a cold beer at the end of the day, and talk about our war stories. I learned to drive tractors (and not just any tractor—it was a John Deere), chopped fallen trees, helped lost lambs, and hardened the calluses on my hands to the equivalent of 80-grit sandpaper. A brief recluse from the world of academia was needed.

(Pictured above) Old Pete sits on the back of his beat-up LandCruiser, admiring the pile of wood we split. In the background, his Jack Russells dart around like bullets, chasing each other. It’s hard not to smile when you see dogs having fun. It’s moments like these when you unconsciously reset, and the simplicity of life becomes clear. Hard work, laughter, and dogs—dogs are always necessary.

After what felt like a few hundred cold emails to editors and magazines, I finally got a call back and was offered a story. Now, let’s be clear—it wasn’t a topic I condone, but I seized the opportunity to get my foot in the door. To my delight, they loved it! They appreciated both my photos and my writing, and they published the piece—sure, they misspelt my name, but let’s keep moving forward.

I haven’t stopped my search; I’ve been calling, emailing, and even LinkedIn stalking editors, and it seems to be paying off. I’m excited to start a two-week internship at the ABC in October, where I’ll have the chance to learn from some of the best journalists in the field. I’ve decided that foreign correspondence is the career path for me. I could list a million reasons why it’s a challenging choice, but as a photographer, I see myself as a historian, and as a human, I have an insatiable need to help others. Fortunately, my skill lies in storytelling, and I can’t wait to put it to use.

My dream is to shed light on critical global issues, from human rights violations and the cost of war to geopolitical conflicts and under-reported stories that shape our world. Conservation is a cause close to my heart. While journalism strives for impartiality, I believe we all share a responsibility to protect the planet we inhabit. Safeguarding our interconnected ecosystems isn’t just a priority—it’s fundamental to our survival. Though we may not yet fully experience the consequences of today’s challenges, future generations undoubtedly will. Leaving behind a sustainable legacy for them to inherit is crucial to the continued prosperity of the human race.

I may be just one guy with a camera and a laptop, but aiming for the stars and striving to create something bigger than myself isn’t a bad dream.

This year has been a whirlwind—with uni, newspaper work, and the release of my very first photobook! While I know it’s not perfect (and I could pick it apart for days), its imperfections are what make it uniquely mine. I doubt many of my followers, who have watched my journey as a photographer, expected what they found within those pages. The book represents the evolution of my work. Yes, I still love landscapes and wildlife, but my focus has shifted toward journalism, which is a new and challenging direction for me. I hope my followers understand that not all my pictures will be the stunning landscapes they might expect.

I’m blown away by the response to the release. The number of orders I’ve received has left me beyond grateful—it truly means the world to me. I spent countless hours putting the book together and even longer capturing each image in different countries around the globe. I titled it Collection 1 because I hope to release a new collection every year or so, creating a timeline of my evolving work.

If your coffee table feels bare or you’re searching for the perfect gift as the holidays approach, look no further—my new book is exactly what you need!

This blog feels more like a personal journal entry, but wow, we've come a long way from snapping photos for fun out in the bush. What a journey, and what a life!

Thank you so much for taking the time to read my blog, I hope you enjoyed both the words and the accompanying photos. If you'd like to support my next endeavour, feel free to visit my Fine Art print store, share my work with your friends, or consider donating through the link below (completely optional). Your continued support truly means the world to me.

Thank you again for reading, for buying my book, and for being part of this journey with me. I hope you’ve enjoyed this blog, and I can’t wait to share more with you in the future.