King Canute in Wellies
There are moments each year where the sense of changing seasons around you is palpable. Something told me that a warm Saturday afternoon at the place that I call "Echo Beach" was going to be the last day that truly felt like summer. Ok, so there were one or two hot afternoons in the office to follow, but I don't count those. I was in the office after all. There was even a lovely weekend at Cape Cornwall ahead of me, but in order to fully enjoy that clifftop experience I needed my coat, my woolly hat and a thermos full of hot coffee.
My storage media tell me that I visited Gwithian more than ever this year, drawn to the big empty beach at low tide and Godrevy Lighthouse to the eastern end of this wonderful stretch of sand and sea. That was inevitable given that travelling further afield was difficult to say the least this year. I suspect that 2021 will be similar, and with no adventures to distant lands (Devon and everything beyond it) in the pipeline, I'm preparing for more of the same in the year ahead of us. It's certainly a year that has taught us to make more of what our own back yard can offer. I guess I'm lucky that this is my local patch.
I'd arrived towards the end of the afternoon to catch the evening light as the tide turned and began to make its way back towards the distant dunes. I must have looked a bit odd to the late summer revellers, dozing on their beach mats, queuing for the ice cream van and taking to the balmy sea on an array of boards that weren't going to catch any waves on such a calm afternoon. Just imagine you're wondering around in your bikini and a strange looking man dressed in more clothes than you've worn in the last three months walks by. He's got a big pack on his back and he's wearing wellies. "Why on earth is he wearing wellies? I don't even know where my sandals are at the moment?" At least I didn't have my winter fleece lined trousers on yet.
This time I found myself drawn to a cluster of rocks near the shoreline, eventually placing my tripod and myself on top of them among a million black mussels that call this place home. The tide was beginning to lap around the outlying stones as the sky changed colour and the sun began to disappear over St Ives on the far side of the bay. The crowds behind me began to disperse, leaving us few stragglers to enjoy the serene space around us alone.
As I stood on the rock, watching the sea begin to encircle me I thought back to those childhood stories of the 11th century King Canute (or more properly Cnut) of England. The legend tells that he sat on his throne on a nearby beach at low tide and commanded the waves to retreat as they approached him. Which of course they didn't. If you subscribe to one version of events, at this point he turned to his retinue and told them the result of the experiment proved that kings weren't quite as powerful as some of them believed. A brave man, who was either wise in sharing this intelligence or crazy in demonstrating to his subjects he was just a man like the rest of them. In the other version of events he turned to the assembled masses and screamed "It's not working! Bring the royal wellies immediately! And a rubber ring."
It seems that it took 100 years for anyone to enter the details of Canute's day trip to the seaside on their parchment, so it may never have really happened. He was probably far too occupied with quelling the masses and repelling the Viking horde to have a day out in his bath chair. He was also king of Denmark, Norway and half of Sweden, and you know how the endless circuit of state visits can be so time consuming. Still, these thoughts occupied those wonderful idle moments we enjoy at times like these when nothing really matters. At least I already had my wellies on - which is useful when you have to wade off a rock in the blue hour.
Happy weekend all.
King Canute in Wellies
There are moments each year where the sense of changing seasons around you is palpable. Something told me that a warm Saturday afternoon at the place that I call "Echo Beach" was going to be the last day that truly felt like summer. Ok, so there were one or two hot afternoons in the office to follow, but I don't count those. I was in the office after all. There was even a lovely weekend at Cape Cornwall ahead of me, but in order to fully enjoy that clifftop experience I needed my coat, my woolly hat and a thermos full of hot coffee.
My storage media tell me that I visited Gwithian more than ever this year, drawn to the big empty beach at low tide and Godrevy Lighthouse to the eastern end of this wonderful stretch of sand and sea. That was inevitable given that travelling further afield was difficult to say the least this year. I suspect that 2021 will be similar, and with no adventures to distant lands (Devon and everything beyond it) in the pipeline, I'm preparing for more of the same in the year ahead of us. It's certainly a year that has taught us to make more of what our own back yard can offer. I guess I'm lucky that this is my local patch.
I'd arrived towards the end of the afternoon to catch the evening light as the tide turned and began to make its way back towards the distant dunes. I must have looked a bit odd to the late summer revellers, dozing on their beach mats, queuing for the ice cream van and taking to the balmy sea on an array of boards that weren't going to catch any waves on such a calm afternoon. Just imagine you're wondering around in your bikini and a strange looking man dressed in more clothes than you've worn in the last three months walks by. He's got a big pack on his back and he's wearing wellies. "Why on earth is he wearing wellies? I don't even know where my sandals are at the moment?" At least I didn't have my winter fleece lined trousers on yet.
This time I found myself drawn to a cluster of rocks near the shoreline, eventually placing my tripod and myself on top of them among a million black mussels that call this place home. The tide was beginning to lap around the outlying stones as the sky changed colour and the sun began to disappear over St Ives on the far side of the bay. The crowds behind me began to disperse, leaving us few stragglers to enjoy the serene space around us alone.
As I stood on the rock, watching the sea begin to encircle me I thought back to those childhood stories of the 11th century King Canute (or more properly Cnut) of England. The legend tells that he sat on his throne on a nearby beach at low tide and commanded the waves to retreat as they approached him. Which of course they didn't. If you subscribe to one version of events, at this point he turned to his retinue and told them the result of the experiment proved that kings weren't quite as powerful as some of them believed. A brave man, who was either wise in sharing this intelligence or crazy in demonstrating to his subjects he was just a man like the rest of them. In the other version of events he turned to the assembled masses and screamed "It's not working! Bring the royal wellies immediately! And a rubber ring."
It seems that it took 100 years for anyone to enter the details of Canute's day trip to the seaside on their parchment, so it may never have really happened. He was probably far too occupied with quelling the masses and repelling the Viking horde to have a day out in his bath chair. He was also king of Denmark, Norway and half of Sweden, and you know how the endless circuit of state visits can be so time consuming. Still, these thoughts occupied those wonderful idle moments we enjoy at times like these when nothing really matters. At least I already had my wellies on - which is useful when you have to wade off a rock in the blue hour.
Happy weekend all.