The radio goes on, music flows forth, the clouds lift, blue patches appear over Holyhead and a burning halo of light appears around the edge of the last bank of cloud. Just seeing sunshine delivered around a hundredth of a millionth of a percent of it's energy into my head and I was starting to ignite. My foot lowered on the accelerator, and fuel injected speed. I could feel tiredness crawl backwards past my ears and get sucked into the rear of the van. I was heading straight for the sun.
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| "There's Always A Connection" - for a friend © Glyn Davies, 2011 |
My first stop was high tide at my stepping stones. This was the highest I had seen the tide around these awesome blocks of rock. The water was deep and cold and a current was running quickly past them and out to the estuary where I would shortly be heading. I crossed the stones, looking deep into the peaty brown water, nothing in there, no life to be seen. I sank into thick mud on the far side but my wellies meant I could wander into pool dotted marsh and get a look back at the stones. A young funny, dynamic 19 year old friend of ours has been missing since Christmas, and this river is his river, well in my mind it is, as it flows from his village to the sea. I was thinking about how lucky I am to simply be here, to breathe, to see, to live. The sunshine was sparkling on the water, the grass was lush and green, clouds scudded across a now clear sky and there was a cool crispness to the air, my fingers felt it, my face felt it, every bit of me was now awake and invigorated, but I wish I knew what had happened to the lad. We all think we know but nobody dares say anything, living in hope that our worst fears are proved wrong. It has been very hard for me to be near the sea since his disappearance. I have titled the image above in dedication to our young friend, and I cling to the hope that one day he will see it for himself.
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| "Life In The Estuary" - © Glyn Davies, 2011 |
I moved on to the main estuary at Newborough. The sky was changing already, the forecasted week of rain had started to develop on the horizon, a darkness drew closer and the sparkle was gone. There were still sheets of hopeful bright patches of sky over the hills, and the last intensity of sunshine was spilling over the peninsula. I walked in shallow water across the open estuary, surrounded by sheets of mirrored sky. Thousands of imprints of life had been left in the mud by birds' webbed feet, and I couldn't understand how these marks had been made beneath the water, as the tide retreated. In the deeper rivulets there were multitudes of shells, many empty, some full of life. They followed the flow of water towards the main channel, and overhead the clouds both echoed and mimicked the lines. I reached the sand dunes, having stepped a path across millions of succulents, an amazing and tenacious plant surviving both above and below water, in floods and in drought - Oh for such an ability.
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| "Emotional Washes" - © Glyn Davies, 2011 |
I climbed up the highest dune to see the sea beyond. It was glassy in the windless air but pulses of energy rolled towards the shore nevertheless. It's always amazed me that even on the calmest days there is always life in the waves, no matter how small they may be. The horizon was now confused and a grey blanket was being drawn over the sea. I had about half an hour before darkness would block my way across the damp, thick grass covered warren, so now at an even lower tide, I lined up two transit marks near the exit and headed in a straight line back across scores of worm casts and bright white shells, like stars in the sky underfoot. No matter how dark the land becomes, there is always life in that darkness.
All words and images are strictly copyright © Glyn Davies 2011
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