New Years Cold Cream

After the busy run up to Christmas, working long hours in the gallery each day including Christmas Eve, I got hit hard by the virus that has been doing the rounds which almost lays you flat, but I still managed to open each day up to my birthday on New Years Eve, and that was it! We had to cancel an evening with friends, cancel any New Years Day walk and I survived on Whisky, Manuka Honey and Lemon ! I was hoping to go to work on the Monday but still felt too rough, so thankfully my wife drove me to Porth Trecastell to see the sea.

"Frothy Cream & Hot Coffee" © Glyn Davies - Click HERE to purchase

It was amazingly, quite a bright afternoon, though the dark winter clouds hung over much of Anglesey and the hills, but the wind was really blowing and created quite a chill factor. We got sandblasted going over the dunes and sea foam aimed itself directly at us whilst a steady flow of salt spray made it's way inland, covering everything. Still, I was entranced by the light and the sparkle and the intense contrast all about - my lungs felt suddenly full of oxygen even though my nostrils burned in the cold air - I stood on a rocky outcrop and remembered summer days at this same spot.

I fitted a filter and sorted my exposure whilst facing inland, then swung seawards and composed within seconds to avoid the blurring spray. I managed about three frames before the beautiful aberrations of sun through water started affecting the view. It took about 2 minutes to clean the filter before walking on towards the next beach and our coffee destination in Rhosneigr. The sea was at half tide so was not pounding the cliffs and reef but instead remained choppy and gymnastic, texturing the horizon. The water turned to creamy foam as soon as it reached the shoreline, and it curdled it's way towards us in viscous frustration, as in a dream.

"Cream of the Sea" © Glyn Davies - Click HERE to purchase

The outgoing tide had left the most beautiful soft virginal sand in it's retreat, upon which the creamy fingers of waves reached, encircled and touched. Low winter sunshine bounced off the wet grains and shallow crescent moons until the angle was so reduced that only darkness was reflected. At that point we finished the outward journey in Sullivans Bistro with hot coffee and syrup-ladled, ice-cream topped Danish Waffles - purely medicinal of course, before we enjoyed a dark and wind blown walk back to the van, a mile or so further down the coast, a half moon offering minimal guidance, and an LED torch offering safety over the rocky stretches. That evening, invigorated by the walk and the sea air, I felt unusually sleepy, and with a final whisky toddy knocked back, I had the first goods nights sleep in a week!

All words and images are strictly copyright © Glyn Davies 2011 - All rights reserved
Glyn's landscapes are all available as 200 year archival prints on his website at www.glyndavies.com