My Favourite Places: The Shiraz Canola Walk

Part of the 'My Favourite Places' series by Istvan Maar

There's something quietly magical about leaving Melbourne before the city stirs. The roads are empty, the air is sharp, and the promise of something extraordinary pulls you forward. This morning, that something was the Shiraz Canola Walk — and it did not disappoint.

I arrived early, deliberately so. The canola was in full bloom, and I wanted to see it before the crowds, before the light shifted, before the moment passed. What greeted me was breathtaking: an endless sea of shining yellow flowers, so vivid they almost seemed to glow against the cool morning sky.

The chill in the air only added to the atmosphere. There's a stillness to a cold morning in the countryside that you simply can't replicate — the kind that makes you feel like the landscape is yours alone, just for a little while.

But what truly sets the Shiraz Canola Walk apart from a simple field of flowers is the art woven into it. Scattered among the rapeseed blooms are pianos — yes, actual pianos — sitting quietly in the yellow sea, weathered and wonderful. Alongside them, rusty trucks and old tractors rest as if they've always belonged there, reclaimed by the landscape over time. It's part open-air gallery, part rural poetry.

As a photographer, I was in my element. The contrast of the brilliant yellow against the aged rust and worn timber is extraordinary. Every angle offers something new — a detail, a texture, a moment of unexpected beauty.

If you haven't visited the Shiraz Canola Walk during bloom season, put it on your list. Go early. Dress warmly. And bring your camera.

Have you visited the Shiraz Canola Walk? I'd love to hear about your experience in the comments below.