It was a stunningly beautiful morning, the late Summer light was now lower in the sky but was intense, sharp and crystal clear. I reached the location in 15 minutes this time compared with 2.5 hours last time (joke!). The bushes were full of rich berries and the lush grass had been mowed on the land overlooking the bay. This time the field was liberally dotted with Shaun and his buddies. The scene was reminiscent of an old Ladybird Book of the Countryside, (raise your hands old timers if you know what I'm talking about!).
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| Lush Landscape © Glyn Davies 2010 |
With the shot in the bag, I was inspired to shoot more images and within minutes of leaving the location, a pastoral rural landscape hung in front of me like an iridescent neon tapestry, burning bushes turning red, wind stunted trees and brilliant back-lit grass fields - it's rare for me to be arrested by such views but it pulled me over and gave me a breath test !
I headed for Moelfre for a sumptuous lunch at my friends bistro & tea gardens, but the beautiful Laura was away on business, leaving me alone to Welsh Rarebit in the front garden, overlooking a sky blue sea. Two other good friends turned up out of that blue, in between Africa and Germany, and we shared food and conversation together in the sunshine before I felt the urge to create more exposures ! I left them hugging each other over coffee and made my way to Traeth Lligwy Beach.
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| Bright Rain © Glyn Davies 2010 |
Huge clouds were now amassing over central Anglesey and the sun's lack of altitude meant that I was in and out of vast shadows and blinding sunshine. The sea was far out on a low tide, and a huge (and to me almost unknown) beach called to me. I had only ever walked along the head of this bay, I had never ever walked out to the sea itself, across rippled soft sands dotted with starfish and jellies. The sky went dark and the sand pools suddenly roughened in the wind. I felt spots of rain and within seconds a heavy shower was pounding my neck - warm, beautiful rain. I just stood in the middle of this vast tract of sand, pulled my new Quicksilver hoodie over my head and huddled over my camera to keep it as dry as possible. My exposed legs below my shorts could feel the breeze increasing but it was soft and sensual - my bare feet in my leather Crocs were submerged in a shallow pool of cool but soothing sea water. I must have looked a sight from the car park but I didn't care, it just felt so amazingly beautiful - I should have been nude really, but was not sure how the old ladies supping flask tea at their dashboards would have coped looking from the car park !
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| A Warm Rush © Glyn Davies 2010 |
It seemed to stop as soon as it started and as the last rain-drop flicked my legs, I turned around to see a divine sky-scape behind me. William Blake would have been excitedly painting alongside me if he'd been there too ! I walked out to the sea and waded up to my quads in warm, crystal-clear Irish Sea water and looked back again at the beach. I set up the tripod and made the usual adjustments to compensate for the soft shifting sand under water and proceeded to watch (and feel) wave after gentle wave surge towards the shoreline. Occasional rays of sunshine broke through the dark cumulous clouds and back-lit the smallest wave crests I've seen, but created the most delicate and formal shoreline compositions I've seen since my wet Cornish summer!
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| Twin Set & Pearls © Glyn Davies 2010 |
I couldn't leave the water then! I was totally enchanted by the feeling of it and the massaging flow against my legs. The seventh waves had ensured my shorts were soaked so mobile phone, money and car keys were moved to my Lowepro to be on the safe side! I made my way across the long shoreline to the far side of the beach, from where the whole cove looked different, more open somehow. I shot some images looking back towards the beach-head and finally skirted around some small reefs towards the infamous Dulas estuary and the shipwrecked trawlers. The tide seemed to stay out forever and I didn't once have to use the cliff-path, just cove after cove of unadulterated virgin sand and dark rock.
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| It Was in the Sky © Glyn Davies 2010 |
The skies were mostly dark to the West but huge shafts of sunshine continued to pierce the cover and illuminate my subjects. Looking out towards Liverpool towering cumulonimbus reached for the troposphere and dark curtains of rain swooped thousands of feet from anvil to horizon, but amazingly lit by bright sunshine at most times.
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| The Rain Hat © Glyn Davies 2010 |
I reached the estuary by walking barefoot over a small grassy peninsula, the long lush grass brushing my arches with every foot-step. It felt much colder than the sea actually but I didn't care, I was just enjoying the whole sensuality of the day. The estuary waited for me. A bright snake of water winked at me in the late sunshine, reminding me of the time he nearly swallowed me and Carol after we were seduced by the siren like trawlers, reclining on the sand bar, showing off their beautiful curves. I wanted to touch the snake, to see just how dangerous it was. I looked into it's depths and although it was moving with some speed I could see the bottom. It must have been maybe a mile long in total, as it curled it's way around the edge of the estuary ready to swallow the unwary, but now I was standing in it's middle and it was powerless to stop me. I crossed to the other side. I spent about five minutes deliberately walking to and fro across it's belly just to show who was boss! Then I noticed it was increasing in width and speed so I retreated to the safety of the shore once more :-) As the snake swelled and expanded I noticed ripples across it's surface, whipped up by a strengthening breeze. I continued to stand in it's shallows and shot a few images as it started to devour the shale-banks.
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| Twisted Anticipation © Glyn Davies 2010 |
The sun was now hiding behind increasing blankets of cloud, so as dusk began I headed back for the VW, this time having to use the narrow cliff path as the tide had already blocked my approach route.
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| The Light in Shadows © Glyn Davies 2010 |
Just before the van I grabbed a last couple of frames of the beach I'd intimately explored earlier, this time it seemed smaller, darker, less formidable, as clouds turned to orange and the North sky turned a dark blue in the distance.
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| Reflective Moment © Glyn Davies 2010 |
A little Peugeot 205 with two teenage girls talking on mobile phones were the only signs of life back at the car park, but I left them to be swallowed by darkness as I turned the van lights on and made for home.
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| The Van at Lligwy © Glyn Davies 2010 |
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