Winter in Byron Bay, July 2016.

When my brother was enjoying spring on the other side of the world in Montréal, I promised him I'd take him to my favourite spots in Byron Bay when he returned to Australia. The advantage of being my own boss is that I don't have to wait for the right weekend to do this—so last Tuesday, in his last week of uni holidays, we ventured down the coast and past the border into beloved Byron Bay. It was an unseasonably warm week even for us in south-east Queensland/northern New South Wales, reaching anywhere between 25ºC-30ºC on most days. Don't let my turtleneck in these photos fool you—I had put it on in the morning thinking it might be quite windy by the water, but I was way too warm in it.

It's often the case that the people we spend the most time with are the people we photograph the least. Not because we don't appreciate or care for their presence, but more because we know we will see them again. With January and my move to Canada with Martin fast-approaching, I can see myself spending more days like this. Leaving more room for spontaneity and the people I love, knowing that it will be a while before I see them again, and taking as many photos as possible of all these everyday moments.

Photos of me below taken by my dear little brother, Carl.

Minyon Falls, New South Wales.

As we drove back to Brisbane, I took Jason and I on a little detour through the Byron hinterland to Minyon Falls. The countryside was incredible at golden hour; it was almost painful to be in the driver's seat instead of window shooting from the passenger's seat, but to be honest, we'd been shooting so much that we were happy to simply enjoy the view. We bopped along to an eclectic mix of songs from The Beach Boys, The Beatles, Maroon 5, Angus & Julia Stone, and at one point I'm pretty sure even the Spice Girls made their way onto the speakers.

I'd never been to Minyon Falls before, so I was also seeing all this with new eyes. I loved looking out across the hinterland and seeing the way the mid-afternoon light fell over the trees. As we craned our bodies over the fencing we could see tiny people at the foot of the falls below us, having picnics and what I'm sure was an all 'round great time. My heart did a little flutter as I imagined accidentally tripping and falling to the rocks below. The 100m drop to the ground was unbelievable (and impossible to do justice through the camera), and I can only imagine the volume of water that would rush over the cliff during the stormy season.

Folk Byron Bay.

On our way out from Byron, Jason and I enjoyed—like, truly enjoyed—lunch at Folk Byron Bay. Owned and run by fellow photographer Maggie Dylan, Folk ticks all my boxes: tasty, nutritious vegetarian food that is consistently well-made; incredible coffee; the great playlist (“old” music, think Beatles and the like); the laid-back vibe; the way the sunlight streams into the space; the thoughtful fit-out, the plants and the carefully chosen decor that helps you feel completely at home.

I never find myself in places that are screaming for attention, but rather I find I am drawn to places that have this softness, this reservedness and this warm, inviting nature that keeps me coming back—quite similar to the very people I seem to gravitate towards as well.

Main Beach, Byron Bay.

A leisurely wake-up, the last bits of packing and check-out found Jason and I at the beach around mid-morning on our last day in Byron. It was pretty warm, typical of our region but a little unusual for this time of year (I'm calling this season “faux-tumn”). The beach was filled with the right amount of people. Many were families, spending Mother's Day together by the sea. We walked all the way from Main Beach to Fisherman's Lookout, me walking barefoot on all the rocks, reminding my feet what they were made for in the first place.

We lingered at Fisherman's Lookout to capture the surfers below, who were idle on their boards, waiting for a good wave. We got excited as we saw, in the distance, a fleet of kayakers making their way across. We knew to wait a little longer so we could capture them just as they passed our surfing pals below.

Cape Byron at sunset.

After our visit to Fingal Head, Jason and I headed straight to Byron Bay. I adore everything about Byron, from the little town and all the small boutiques and great cafés to the endlessly beautiful ocean scenery no matter which corner you're standing in. Byron's got this great vibe to it that I can only describe as being summery, hippie and ultimately, relaxed. Everything operates at a slightly slower pace—even you.

Sun, sand and sea.

One of my favourite days, at some of my favourite places, with my favourite person. 

Brisbane was lucky enough to be given a day off on Friday for the G20 Leaders' Summit. Most of us escaped the city, and I chose to spend it enjoying the sunshine and celebrating my 24th birthday. I rarely go to the beach, let alone get the chance to spend 3 days doing whatever I please, so this weekend I made the most of it: a 2.5 hour challenging, but incredibly rewarding yoga workshop with 21 amazing women on the Friday, watching Interstellar in the afternoon. On Saturday Martin and I left home early, heading to Harvest for brunch and walking around Byron Bay.

If you know me, you'll know I'm more for low-key celebrations, so days like this are all I need. I'd much rather travel, explore or experience something as a gift, rather than add to a collection of stuff that will only gather dust and rot when I'm gone. In the last year I've been incredibly mindful to actually set myself proper days off for the good of my own wellbeing, and it was refreshing to have a couple days where I was not bound by time, rigid plans or any kind of obligation.

Most of the photos below are of our afternoon at Fingal Head, a 40 minute drive north from Byron.

Newrybar, Byron Bay and Martin's Birthday Weekend.

On Saturday, I took Martin two hours south to Newrybar, New South Wales, to celebrate his birthday. I looked forward to the long, scenic drive, excited to surprise him with my plans for the day ahead. As I drove, I let Martin play the photographer, pointing out bridges and tunnels that would make good shots, teaching him how to compose the photograph and be my eyes through the lens. I was quick not to let potential shots pass us by on the 110km/h roads, prodding him constantly to capture the scene the second either of us noticed it. I never realised how quickly I reacted to what could be a beautiful photograph, a record of a fleeting moment, until I trusted my camera to another, and instructed them to be me.

We enjoyed the peaceful ambience at Harvest Cafe and explored their gourmet deli, wishing that we didn't live so far away. We stopped by the antique store across the road and I was fascinated by what we found there, with beautiful, ornate objects dating back to the 1800s. Then we were off to the Cape Byron lighthouse, unprepared for the winds blowing every which way and the downpour of rain. But we were content, reacquainted with simplicity, who we were and who we are to each other. It is all too easy to get lost amongst the day-to-day, becoming disconnected with yourself and forgetting to be.

The next day, I awoke early and let Martin sleep, preparing him breakfast with the fresh-baked sourdough and quality French camembert we bought from Harvest Deli the day before. We opened his gifts and prepared for a day with our families: a birthday brunch with his, and a birthday dinner with mine. His little nephew continues to delight me; he grows more clever and cheeky as the days go on.