Tuesday, 28 June 2011

Past Light on the Ancients

This time I was not alone. Our steps sprung off the lush grass of a moving wool field and we crossed the first stile. The air was pungent, and the sound of invisible trickling streams to our left and right disclosed the steep watershed we were about to enter. Just under the thick grass was a dark brown membrane of water over super saturated earth, even now under the baking heat of the sun. Skylarks circled about us in the summer sky, whilst others took off in musical fire as we approached nearby clumps of drier grass.

"Those Below" Yr Eifl © Glyn Davies 2011

As we approached the shoulder of these gentle hills a Westerly breeze blew over the wide heath-land ahead of us and cooled our hot faces. We followed almost indistinguishable sheep tracks across the cuckoo-spit-dotted open grass-land, were Cotton grasses danced daintily in the breeze, and the salty blue haze of the Irish sea became visible in the North West. We followed a dark 'grit-stone' wall to our left, which crossed the gentle hills like an undulating roller coaster before disappearing skyward over the summit of the next peak, creating a silhouetted standing figure on the skyline, watching us, beckoning us to trespass up to it, which we did. On the ascent we noticed an abundance of tiny berries in the lush vegetation, many of which ended up in the sheep droppings adorning our steep unwavering route.

"Light in a Hanging Valley" Yr Eifl © Glyn Davies 2011

This first summit was a sea of lush yellow, waves pulsing through long windswept grasses, catching the light then dumping it, re-catching the light then bending it. The wind had now become a very strong breeze and even with image stabilisation I could not hold the 300 mm still enough to get the long shots I wanted - every time I raised the lens I was being buffeted. I removed the large lens hood which acted like a spinnaker, but this barely helped. I gave up and we drank hot coffee and ate cookies as we'd BOTH forgotten our egg sandwiches, which were gently roasting in salmonellerish glee back in the warm van, but the coffee afforded us enough energy to make for the final pumice-rough rocky summit and cairn, and the most amazing 360ยบ views of the Llyn Peninsula and the Irish Sea. I sheltered in the sunlit lee of the peak and was finally able to shoot some 'influences' from the history rich hillsides beyond, the long lens bringing into focus traces of our past we'd never see from ground level.

"Time Stamps" Yr Eifl © Glyn Davies 2011

The clouds were scurrying across the sky and their shadows created a theatrical performance over the rich landscape below. We noticed the cloud cover becoming more uniform as the grey haze increased, only permitting bursts of sunlight from minute to minute, in a vain attempt to conceal the secrets unfolding before us, and it worked! Soon the hill-top was dull and the sunbursts stopped. The Irish Sea had retreated and small harbour piers were left high and dry. We tipped the last cookie crumbs into our mouths, washed them down with more hot coffee, and then made the return journey, across a different spiritual landscape, older this time, more sombre, but steady and re-assuring.

"Illuminating History" Yr Eifl © Glyn Davies 2011

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