Kirsten Simpson Photography

Show Navigation
  • Portfolio
  • Collections
    • All Galleries
    • Search
    • Cart
    • Lightbox
    • Client Area
  • About
  • Contact

Search Results

Refine Search
Match all words
Match any word
Prints
Personal Use
Royalty-Free
Rights-Managed
(leave unchecked to
search all images)
{ 18 images found }

Loading ()...

  • On the way home from Rottnest Island
    20100502_Perth_0072.jpg
  • Rottnest Island
    20100502_Perth_0060.jpg
  • Rottnest Island
    20100502_Perth_0057.jpg
  • Rottnest Island
    20100502_Perth_0043.jpg
  • Rottnest Island
    20100502_Perth_0033.jpg
  • Rottnest Island
    20100502_Perth_0024.jpg
  • Rottnest Island
    20100501_Perth_0121.jpg
  • Rottnest Island
    20100501_Perth_0113.jpg
  • Rottnest Island
    20100502_Perth_0050.jpg
  • Rottnest Island
    20100502_Perth_0027.jpg
  • Rottnest Island
    20100502_Perth_0030.jpg
  • Rottnest Island
    20100501_Perth_0123.jpg
  • Rottnest Island
    20100501_Perth_0117.jpg
  • Rottnest Island
    20100502_Perth_0039.jpg
  • Rottnest Island
    20100502_Perth_0035.jpg
  • Rottnest Island
    20100502_Perth_0026.jpg
  • Rottnest Island
    20100501_Perth_0103.jpg
  • That Dotted Line: It used to mark the limit for us. That ragged line of torn bitumen putting an abrupt end to a beautiful climb. No man's land held no allure for us – its surface an ugly pock-marked rouge overseen by a shot-blasted lichen covered sign shouting “GRAVEL!” We’d even seen the other side - gazing longingly (knowing the exact measure of kilometres and a precise quantity of metres gained) but knowing it was out of our reach. We had traced the twisting Dotted Line on the map – but the conventional coffee shop wisdom was that it was out of reach on 23 millimetres of rubber. So we worked around it. Return routes on shoulders strewn with debris and grey junk kays on monotonous highways. Unfortunately even with circuitous workarounds we still knew that we were missing out. That Dotted Line was so small – yet it prevented so much. Stories filtered in third-hand. We heard of a guy who knew someone that had done it. He did not head the capitalised caveat “GRAVEL!” – instead he skimmed potholes and ascended That Dotted Line. So one day, armed with a battalions equipment and the bolshiness only fear of the unknown can bring, we crossed That Dotted Line. No punctures. Bike intact. Job done. Dirt be damned. Before we even finished the ride, we were excitedly joining the dots on new loops, new routes, new roads – all previously ‘inaccessible’. Exploration, adventure, quiet roads and immersive scenery is where it took us – and takes us. Deeper, and deeper each time. That Dotted Line is a part of our history – and the reason why we want to drag you with us this August. Don’t believe everything you hear over a latte.
    20130526_Hells500_48.jpg
  • Facebook
  • Twitter
x