Lipari Islands

September 2025. 105 frames from a week on the Aeolian archipelago — volcanic rock, sulphur vents, and Mediterranean light that makes everything look like it was graded in post. Canon EOS 100D.

Trees clinging to a hill like they owe it money.
Someone parked a sailboat in front of what looks like a Bond villain’s retirement village.
The sun’s doing that thing where it hides behind a cloud and pretends it’s a movie poster.
Same sunset, vertical. Because one wasn’t enough to prove I was there.
Buildings that look like they’ve been there longer than democracy, and a bloke in a boat who doesn’t care.
Another sunset. I know. But look at it. Even I’m not cynical enough to skip this one.
A sailing winch. If you don’t know what this is, you’ve never been yelled at on a boat.
I collected rocks off a volcano like a child on a school trip. No regrets.
Two sailboats pretending they don’t know each other.
Every influencer’s dream shot. I took it by accident.
A harbour town at sunset. The boats look more relaxed than I’ve ever been.
More boats. I promise this trip wasn’t just boats. It was also volcanoes.
Someone’s yacht that costs more than everything I’ll ever own, combined.
An alley so narrow you’d think the buildings were flirting.
The kind of gelato selection that makes you question every life decision that didn’t lead here sooner.
People eating dinner in an alley and pretending it’s not weird. It’s Italy. Everything’s a restaurant.
A car the size of a shopping trolley parked outside a bar with a cactus theme. Sicily is unhinged.
A random party balloon just floating in the middle of the Mediterranean. Someone’s birthday clearly got out of hand.
Portorosa at sunset. Looks like the title card of a show where someone gets murdered in episode two.
Sailing toward what I’m pretty sure is a volcano. This is fine.
Water. Just water. Sometimes you point the camera at nothing and it’s still better than your office.
Stromboli from the sea. Looks angry. Is angry. Been erupting for two thousand years.
A yacht that definitely belongs to someone who says “it’s not about the money.” And a tiny rock behind it because nature doesn’t care about your net worth.
Local dog. Did not care about me. Did not care about the camera. Did care about the fence.
Someone planted an olive tree in volcanic rocks and put a sign on it. Peak Sicily.
A harbour full of boats. Rich people park, poor people gawk. Guess which one I was.
Strombolicchio. A rock with a lighthouse on it. The most committed lighthouse in the Mediterranean.
White houses overlooking the sea. Everyone who lives here knows they’ve won.
Volcanic hillside at golden hour. Looks like Mars if Mars had a sunset wine bar.
A canal full of boats at sunset. Venice if Venice was honest and didn’t charge you to exist.
Dead trees on a volcano. Nature’s way of saying “I was here first.”
More volcano. The closer you get, the more you wonder why you’re getting closer.
Hikers on a zigzag trail up the volcano. Each one of them regretting cardio day.
The view from up high. Worth the hike. Don’t ask me about the hike.
Stromboli’s crater. That’s smoke. From a volcano. That I walked to. On purpose.
Closer. Still smoke. Still a volcano. Still questionable judgement.
Sciara del Fuoco — a black sand avalanche chute that drops straight into the sea. Cheerful.
Sunset from the top of an active volcano. If this doesn’t get you, nothing will.
Same sunset, marginally different. I’m not sorry. You try standing on a volcano and not taking fifty photos.
The volcano’s black slope meeting the sea at sunset. Mordor with better lighting.
Yacht masts silhouetted at sunset. If you squint, it looks like modern art.
Sunset number — honestly, I’ve lost count. Still good though.
Close-up of volcanic rock. This is what the inside of the earth looks like when it’s having a bad day.
Lava meets plants. Life finds a way, etc. Jeff Goldblum was right.
The sea went so still it forgot it was the sea. I don’t know what’s water and what’s sky.
Same. I took three of these. Fight me.
Three. I regret nothing.
View from the summit. Someone lives in that building down there. Next to a volcano. On purpose.
Same view, different moment. A tiny house on the edge of catastrophe. Relatable, honestly.
Pink sky over volcanic ridges. Looks fake. Isn’t.
Coastal town from the sea. The sort of place that makes you question your entire housing situation.
Black volcanic slope in black and white. Dramatic? Yes. Subtle? No.
THE VOLCANO IS ERUPTING. Actual lava. Coming out of the actual earth. While I’m standing on it.
Night eruption. An orange glow on a mountain. The earth is literally on fire and I thought, “I should photograph this.”
Lava glow through the grass at night. Or the moon. Or Satan’s porch light. Hard to say.
Birra dello Stretto. Local beer. Tastes like “I survived a volcano hike” in liquid form.
A gecko on the ceiling. Watching me. Judging me. Probably right to.
Chocolate-covered things on sticks. Italy doesn’t do healthy snacks and I respect that deeply.
A pile of cannoli shells. Empty. Waiting to be filled. The most Italian metaphor that exists.
Strombolicchio again. I can’t stop photographing this rock and neither would you.
Same rock, different angle. It’s got a lighthouse on it. It earned its close-up.
A town built on a cliff because flat land is for quitters.
The sea stack straight on. A rock that decided it was a monument and no one argued.
Moody cliff. Could be an album cover. For something you’d listen to when it’s raining.
Volcanic cliff with a tower on top. Someone thought, “I’ll build something up there.” Mad.
Strombolicchio silhouette. I’ve taken twelve photos of this rock. I have a problem.
Same rock, further away. Still beautiful. Still a problem.
Stromboli’s summit puffing away. Like a bloke who says he’s quit smoking but hasn’t.
More volcanic smoke. Closer this time. The earth burping.
White yacht, red island, blue water. Someone colour-sorted the Mediterranean.
Sea caves. The kind of place where movie villains keep their submarine.
Geological layers. Millions of years of the earth going “I dunno, let’s try this colour.”
Yacht cruising past a beach town. The guy on the yacht will never know how good this photo is.
Someone swimming into a sea cave. Brave or stupid. Possibly both.
Columnar basalt sea caves. The earth made hexagons. On purpose. Show-off.
Volcanic cliff so dramatic it looks Photoshopped. It’s not. The earth is just like this sometimes.
Close-up of volcanic rock that looks like the surface of another planet. I touched it. It was warm.
Fallen volcanic boulders. Every one of these was thrown here by an explosion. Happy holiday.
Dark cliff, dark sky, dark mood. The volcano’s emo phase.
Columnar basalt at the waterline. The earth doing its best impression of a cathedral organ.
Inside a sea cave. Stone columns, pebble floor. God’s foyer.
Another cave. Darker. The kind of place you explore and your mates wait outside because they’ve seen horror films.
Sailboats at twilight. Everyone anchored up and drinking wine. As they should be.
Yacht passing sea caves under a cliff town. Three postcards in one frame.
Giant rock from sea level at golden hour. Looks like something you’d worship.
Secluded black pebble beach. No towels, no umbrellas, no one selling you things. Paradise.
Two people sitting on a cliff edge. Either incredibly brave or don’t have life insurance.
Craggy headland in the mist. Moody as hell. Even the water’s brooding.
Yacht lit up at night like a floating nightclub. I wasn’t invited.
Moonlight on the sea. The sort of view that makes you text your ex. Don’t.
Same moonlight, closer. Still don’t text them.
An olive tree older than your country. Lit up at night like it knows it.
Close-up of the trunk. Been twisting for a thousand years. Still more put-together than me.
Another lit-up yacht. I swear I don’t only photograph rich people’s boats. But they do leave the lights on.
A small sailboat doing its thing. Not fancy, not flashy. The kind of boat that has character.
The back of a yacht with its tender boat. Even the lifeboat on this thing is nicer than my car.
Sailboat and a sea stack in the mist. The opening scene of a film where a fisherman finds a mermaid.
Swimmers near volcanic cliffs with a natural rock arch. Instagram would explode.
Silhouetted sea stacks against dramatic clouds. This is the photo the camera was built for.
Volcanic cliffs in every colour you can get. The earth went through its entire palette and said “all of them.”
Closer. Rust, ochre, grey, red. A geology textbook having a midlife crisis.
Two dinghies in a quiet bay. The opposite of excitement. Exactly what you need.
Storm clouds at dusk. The sky doing a dramatic monologue.
The helm. Steering wheel, open sea, nobody telling you where to go. The dream, basically.
Catamaran anchored near abandoned buildings on a volcanic island. Looks haunted. Would still buy it.