Another Day at the Office…

Now that I’ve invested in a brand new camera (A Nikon D3 for those of you interested) it was time for it to earn its keep. Having packed my new backpack with all my new gear I headed off to the cliff tops on Holyhead to make my way to Penhryn Mawr, a notorious formation of rocks at the end of a headland, where large standing waves and tidal races form as the sea rushes from South Stack to Porth Dafarch and back. This is a popular stretch of water where the more experience sea kayaker comes to play. To reach it by foot is a good 30 to 40 minute walk from the nearest car park with spectacular views across the Irish Sea.
However, when I reached to Penhryn Mawr there was absolutely nothing going on. It was as flat as a pancake and not a sea kayaker in sight. Still, it gave me an opportunity to get out and stretch my legs and to test my new gear.
This is often the way with photography; you can never guarantee that shot. Just like fishing, you cast your line and sit and wait. If you make a catch then all well and good. If not, then at least you’ve tried and hey, there’s always tomorrow!

Music by Mike Dowling.

A Weekend to Remember…

It’s been a long time coming, but it was well worth the wait.
We had glorious sunshine for the whole weekend and boy! did we make good use of it,
a camping weekend with all our kayaking friends and their families down at Rhoscoyln Beach.
A weekend of sun, sea and sand. A reminder of my childhood holidays when all was right with the world. Sand in your egg and crest sandwiches, ice lollies that melted and ran down your face and arms leaving a streak of orange stain that acted as some primitive form of sun block. The high-pitched scream of seagulls and over heated young children as the sun reached its zenith. The splashing waves and salty seawater that acted as a kind of nasal spray that would have a hundred children coughing like a smoker on forty a day.
The warm wrapping of the dry beach towel to conceal and soothed the goose bumps on a shivering overexcited child. Then with bucket and spade in hand, which contained a few precious pebbles along with a crab’s claw and some seaweed as souvenirs, we’d wander back along the beach to wash, to eat and to sleep the sleep of the dead. And when morning came, we’d do it all over again.
All praise to the great British summer.