It's a Long Way to Anglesey
Wales is deceptive. A bit like France in miniature it takes longer to navigate your way across it than even your frankest assessment of the map in front of you allows for. As we finished what passed for our breakfast in the Travelodge (our provisions not theirs) next to the old Severn Bridge we knew the 170 odd miles to the opposite end of the Principality was going to take longer than your average journey of this sort of length - but we should have added on a couple of hours for good measure. There were a lot of tractors making steady progress along narrow roads, where often we would find ourselves crawling to a halt as we waited for red lights to change to green. The highway maintenance teams of Wales certainly appeared to be fully occupied as we slowly continued towards Anglesey.
Mind you, there were plenty of distractions, and I'm not just talking about the beer aisle in Aldi at Abergavenny. Once we'd got past the environs of the Brecon Beacons I was in completely uncharted territory, and I liked it very much. Suddenly Builth Wells and Rhayader were real towns in handsome surroundings rather than simply names on a map. We stopped at the latter for a coffee and what was either an early lunch or a second attempt at breakfast. I don't remember which. I'd never heard of Clywedog Reservoir until I was gazing down at it from a thoughtfully placed car park. It really was all rather splendid. How on earth had I advanced into middle age without having seen these places before? It's not that far away from Cornwall.
Further north we persevered and for the first time there were dark brooding mountains on the horizon. I love mountains - I'd never seen a proper one until I was well into my thirties and I've been obsessed with them ever since. It's just that it's a long journey from home to see them, and my better half doesn't share my enthusiasm, which doesn't really help to be honest. We'd come for a three night stay near Caernarfon and the Snowdonia national park was to be our playground for the long weekend ahead - we were getting close. But before all of this our plan was to get to Llanddwyn Island on Anglesey to photograph Twr Mawr lighthouse.
By the time we arrived at Newborough Beach the February light was already beginning to fade, taking with it those beautiful mountains, which now lay to the south. While Dave and Lee stopped on the beach, distracted by what I still have no idea, I pressed on against a strengthening wind towards the island. A storm was due over the weekend and was letting us know early, shaking my tripod with every restless gust from the west. The cold wind coming in hard from the Irish Sea, the lack of time to absorb the place as the darkness approached and the sullen bank of cloud did little to help my composition and after a few shots I moved on and found another view. The famous lighthouse hadn't been a success. Sometimes you have to just walk away.
A year later I decided to have another try at the raw files I'd made that day. Lockdown in the UK has meant that some of our YouTube gurus have been producing rather more educational content than they normally would, and I hoped I might have absorbed something that would help me to revisit old images. I'd also invested in the Topaz utility suite, which is often helpful in removing indiscretions - camera shake in this case - and bringing a little sharpness to a previously blurry image. I'm afraid I'm a sucker for trying to grab 1.3 seconds in a gale and sometimes I don't get away with it. But those moving grasses were just begging to be captured.
So now I'm at peace with this image. I managed to catch the backdrop of those shadowy beasts of Snowdonia before the distant clouds stole them for good, and although there was none of that classic sunset stuff that you look for in a scene like this, it brings to me that sense of a big storm approaching. Storm Ciara did arrive later, and much of Sunday was lost as we decided not to take any silly risks with flying debris sailing past our rented cottage all morning, while we cowered inside with coffee watching Whisky Galore. It was brutal and the nation was advised to stay indoors. Sadly much of the time we'd planned among the mountains was lost to the storm.
We returned home from Wales on the Monday via the North West of England and the motorways. Despite the snowstorm it was a much faster route, but nowhere near as appealing. Next time I'll stick with the scenic route and get stuck behind all of those tractors again. But it'll be worth it.
It's a Long Way to Anglesey
Wales is deceptive. A bit like France in miniature it takes longer to navigate your way across it than even your frankest assessment of the map in front of you allows for. As we finished what passed for our breakfast in the Travelodge (our provisions not theirs) next to the old Severn Bridge we knew the 170 odd miles to the opposite end of the Principality was going to take longer than your average journey of this sort of length - but we should have added on a couple of hours for good measure. There were a lot of tractors making steady progress along narrow roads, where often we would find ourselves crawling to a halt as we waited for red lights to change to green. The highway maintenance teams of Wales certainly appeared to be fully occupied as we slowly continued towards Anglesey.
Mind you, there were plenty of distractions, and I'm not just talking about the beer aisle in Aldi at Abergavenny. Once we'd got past the environs of the Brecon Beacons I was in completely uncharted territory, and I liked it very much. Suddenly Builth Wells and Rhayader were real towns in handsome surroundings rather than simply names on a map. We stopped at the latter for a coffee and what was either an early lunch or a second attempt at breakfast. I don't remember which. I'd never heard of Clywedog Reservoir until I was gazing down at it from a thoughtfully placed car park. It really was all rather splendid. How on earth had I advanced into middle age without having seen these places before? It's not that far away from Cornwall.
Further north we persevered and for the first time there were dark brooding mountains on the horizon. I love mountains - I'd never seen a proper one until I was well into my thirties and I've been obsessed with them ever since. It's just that it's a long journey from home to see them, and my better half doesn't share my enthusiasm, which doesn't really help to be honest. We'd come for a three night stay near Caernarfon and the Snowdonia national park was to be our playground for the long weekend ahead - we were getting close. But before all of this our plan was to get to Llanddwyn Island on Anglesey to photograph Twr Mawr lighthouse.
By the time we arrived at Newborough Beach the February light was already beginning to fade, taking with it those beautiful mountains, which now lay to the south. While Dave and Lee stopped on the beach, distracted by what I still have no idea, I pressed on against a strengthening wind towards the island. A storm was due over the weekend and was letting us know early, shaking my tripod with every restless gust from the west. The cold wind coming in hard from the Irish Sea, the lack of time to absorb the place as the darkness approached and the sullen bank of cloud did little to help my composition and after a few shots I moved on and found another view. The famous lighthouse hadn't been a success. Sometimes you have to just walk away.
A year later I decided to have another try at the raw files I'd made that day. Lockdown in the UK has meant that some of our YouTube gurus have been producing rather more educational content than they normally would, and I hoped I might have absorbed something that would help me to revisit old images. I'd also invested in the Topaz utility suite, which is often helpful in removing indiscretions - camera shake in this case - and bringing a little sharpness to a previously blurry image. I'm afraid I'm a sucker for trying to grab 1.3 seconds in a gale and sometimes I don't get away with it. But those moving grasses were just begging to be captured.
So now I'm at peace with this image. I managed to catch the backdrop of those shadowy beasts of Snowdonia before the distant clouds stole them for good, and although there was none of that classic sunset stuff that you look for in a scene like this, it brings to me that sense of a big storm approaching. Storm Ciara did arrive later, and much of Sunday was lost as we decided not to take any silly risks with flying debris sailing past our rented cottage all morning, while we cowered inside with coffee watching Whisky Galore. It was brutal and the nation was advised to stay indoors. Sadly much of the time we'd planned among the mountains was lost to the storm.
We returned home from Wales on the Monday via the North West of England and the motorways. Despite the snowstorm it was a much faster route, but nowhere near as appealing. Next time I'll stick with the scenic route and get stuck behind all of those tractors again. But it'll be worth it.