I’ve been enjoying catching up with my old friend Kamali while we’ve been in Broome, and so have the children from the #thenomadicsmob - the offspring of musicians Dave Mann and Bec Schofield who are currently up at Kooljaman Resort at Cape Leveque playing beautiful music to holiday makers each night. Here they are on the back of Kamali’s house truck creating with clay - a pretty special art class for these home-schooled kids.

If you ever find yourself in Derby in the Kimberley region of WA, it’s surely only a matter of time before you discover the Norval Gallery. It is crammed full of artist Mark Norval’s work, past and present, along with artwork by other local artists and it’s a feast for the eyes.

Steve’s been away working over on Koolan Island recently, so Jazzy and I have been on our own in Broome for part of the last month, spending a lot of time around Town Beach. This was the day we got a lesson from some local kids in finding hermit crabs in the roots of the mangrove trees.

I’d first seen Paint Storm’s Phil Doncon at work the previous night at the big live music event for the Ningaloo Whale Shark Festival. He was mesmerising as he moved to the soundtrack being created by DJ Swami and friends, painting huge canvases with scenes inspired by Exmouth.

While we were all having coffee in town one morning, we were introduced to a bloke by the name of Pancho. Pancho had been a prawn boat skipper for MG Kailis back in the day, and had recently written a book about that and a lifetime of other adventures (including a riotous weekend on Rottnest with Bob Hawke before he was PM)…

It turns out you don’t need to be old to be an Old Bastard. We’d been told that John Wheelock has been the president of Carnarvon’s Old Bastards since its inception in 1982. A quick google revealed that the Australasian Order of the Old Bastards is an Australia-wide organisation, far less organised than the Rotary Club or the Lions, but just as effective where fund-raising is concerned…

Penelope’s story, sadly, is one told far too often in Australia. She is part of the Stolen Generations. Her very early years were spent at the Moore River Native Settlement before she was shifted to New Norcia Mission. As with many in similar circumstances, Penny’s life descended into one of alcohol abuse with her own six children also being taken away from their family. In between photographs, Penny shared tales of ill-treatment as a child, including sexual abuse, and alcohol-induced floggings and sleeping in public toilets as an adult. But Penny’s tale is also one of resilience…

I met up with Ray and Macca at the Yacht Club for the Sunday Session, and they decided I need to meet Irish too. “He looks like a leprechaun” they told me.

“Karl Brandenberg, Carnarvon’s Shire President, dobbed his mate Peter in as a local, colourful character I ought to photograph. Karl told me that Peter was the roo shooter for the district for years. “He’s a laugh a minute…and tough. Cheeky as they bloody come”…

Before any photographs were taken I sat down to enjoy a home-grown mango smoothie and a chat at the kitchen table with Carnarvon grower Rick Skender and his mum, Zarka…

Now in his 80s, Mick has spent a huge part of his life living in the beach shack his father built back in 1959, just north of Carnarvon. In fact he still spends a large part of each year there - having arrived in January he has no plans of heading back south until August. When I visit Mick, his mate Faye is there for a few weeks too.

I first met Ray and Merle when I was photographing their granddaughter Jamee-Lee’s wedding about five years ago, and remember thinking that I’d love to do a portrait shoot . I discovered that they lived in Carnarvon and filed that thought away for another day. This week I caught up with them at their home…

John McCloy originally came to Carnarvon as a teacher for the School of the Air. These days, in retirement, he can be found volunteering at the recently opened Museum down by the One Mile Jetty in Carnarvon’s Heritage Precinct.

It seems the whole of Carnarvon knows Dr Harry Sneddon. For many years he was the town’s vet treating creatures great and small. A quietly spoken, gentle man - a gentleman in its truest sense - it’s not hard to imagine him tenderly handling someone’s fur child at his practice in town, or horse whispering out on a cattle station. More recently he’s owned and operated the general store just out of the town centre to keep himself busy in his retirement.

While we were hanging out with Spags, we also met Bryan. Spags seems not to have a care in the world. His mate Bryan though has the weight of the world on his shoulders right now after losing everything in a fire a month ago. Bryan had been living in his caravan inside a big shed at Spags’ place. He was working out bush when he got a call from a mate to say the shed had burnt to the ground. “It was April Fool’s Day”, Bryan said “I thought they were pulling my leg.”

We called into the CRC as soon as we reached The Junction, to see if they could suggest a great local character to perhaps photograph. “Spags! Go over the bridge, you can’t miss his house…it’s got a boat on the roof”…