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  • I don’t even know how it got there but a way off the dirt track had slumped this old truck, its faded layers of eroded paintwork peppered with shot-gun holes. <br />
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Abandoned and left to nature and the elements, this vehicle jolted within me the recognition that nothing lasts forever, that eventually everything becomes dust, but in the meantime is a marker for own place along that road, literally.
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  • The huge open desert becomes a blank canvas for Daliesque surrealism when incongrous objects suddenly appear out of nowhere. There was noyhing behind me and nothing beyond except for distant hills. <br />
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To come across this derelict house, alongside a railway that stretches as far as the eye can see and on which we never saw a train, really did make us question ‘why’ and ‘who would have lived there’. Genuinely surreal and a taste of things to come in the deserted mining town miles ahead.
    GD002284.jpg
  • I’ve wanted to go to this vast, deserted coastline since I was a child. In my late teens I saw a picture in National Geographic of a lion prowling along a sandy beach, with a shipwreck in the background and it just stuck within me, always vivid.<br />
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Of course those moments caught on film, are often rare and once in a lifetime, so it was perhaps no surprise that on my first visit to the incredible and weather-dramatic Skeleton Coast in January, I didn’t see my lion! However, the sheer scale of the coastline, the dense fogs that roll in from above the cold upwellings in the Atlantic Ocean, sometimes reducing visibility to a few feet, was awe-inspiring. Couple this with the numerous shipwrecks that strew this coastline and it really is surreal as well as exciting. Several of the major wrecks are within restricted diamond mining zones but a few are accessible to the visitor, such as this one here. I had to go early morning as crowds normal build up later in the day.<br />
This ship has become a permanent roost for hundreds of cormorants and seabirds.
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  • Over time, a buried building emerges from the ash of the 1957 Capelhinos Volcano, Azores, revealing everything from it's structure to it's decor. An explosion of lush succulent plants now pours out of the smashed interior.
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  • It’s impossible for me to walk past the old now abandoned lifeboat house at Penlee, Mousehole without stopping to remember, with great sadness the loss of so many brave, amazing men from one small community. <br />
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The Penlee lifeboat disaster occurred on 19 December 1981 off the coast of Cornwall. The RNLB Solomon Browne went to the aid of the vessel Union Star after its engines failed in heavy seas. After the lifeboat had rescued four people, both vessels were lost with all hands; in all, sixteen people died including eight volunteer lifeboatmen. (From Wiki)<br />
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I was living in Falmouth at the time and the shock across Cornwall and indeed Britain was deep and heartfelt. In school we had assemblies to talk about what had happened to these brave volunteers who risked and lost their own lives to save others. Our communities all felt deep sympathy for the families shattered by the loss of these men. <br />
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To stand above this lifeboat house which was abandoned just two years after the disaster is a direct flashback to that shocking time in my childhood.
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  • Goleudy Trwyn y Balog - is located at 	Llaneilian on the north coast of Anglesey. <br />
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From Wiki: Point Lynas was first lit in 1779 at a site about 300 metres (980 ft) south of the present tower, to provide accommodation for Liverpool pilots making use of the shelter at Porthyrysgaw. The site was abandoned for the present position, so that a light could be positioned on the more important north-eastern position, where a tower is not required, as the light sits 39 metres (128 ft) above mean high water.<br />
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The unusual arrangement of having the lantern at ground level with the look-out and telegraph room above is similar to the Great Orme Lighthouse, also built by the Mersey Docks and Harbour Board. The telegraph station was established in 1879, and two new cottages were erected to accommodate extra staff. Point Lynas has now been taken over by Trinity House.
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  • Nominated in 10th (2017) International Colour Awards (Nature category) <br />
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A huge snow blizzard sweeps over a green Irish Sea towards the tiny hamlet of Nant Gwrtheyrn, once the centre of a busy granite quarrying community on the North coast of the Llyn Peninsula, Wales. This is now a post industrial landscape of abandoned granite quarrying buildings and levels. The hamlet is now a Welsh language and conference centre.<br />
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From my book Nant Gwrtheyrn - Y Swyngyfaredd (The Enchantment)<br />
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This book is available for purchase here on www.glyndavies.com
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  • A shattered landscape, blasted, gouged and ripped apart by mans material need, lies abstracted in the gorgeous warmth of evening sunlight, the quarrymen long gone. <br />
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Today a different form of quarry workers assault the slate faces, roped up, drilling, clipping, sweating and shouting to each other in the carved out quarry levels. <br />
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The multitude of tough labourers who faced hardship and danger in this industrial landscape are now but echoes in the shadows and deep pits. From the faces of smooth slate in now abandoned quarries, come the sounds of excited chatter and exhilaration as modern day climbers fill the void that has been left.
    GD002373.jpg
  • In an abandoned quarry village, high up in the windswept mountains of Wales, sits a derelict old chapel with it's roof timbers now collapsing inwards but still pointing skywards. It is only the spirit of the workmen in this busy slate quarry that remains, the valley is silent and desolate.
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  • It was still winter, the rock was icy cold and the bitter rough surface of the curved rock, normally a sun-bed in summer, was freezing her skin. Yet, in the windless air, those afternoon rays of sunshine gave her some relief. She relished the pleasure and the pain and stretched out abandoned to the sensations. Her skin was tight, but textured to touch, thousands of goosebumps working hard to keep her warm.<br />
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I’d never seen anything so incredible, not just the amazing landscape but that it cradled such a gorgeous woman. I walked over to her, took hold of her hand and whispered, “You’re beautiful!" She turned towards me, smiled and we kissed, warmth burning between us in the rocky wilderness that we had found ourselves in.
    Heat On An Icy Rock
  • It's August, it looked sunny. The hills are swarming with summer walkers, like mozzys on a sweaty cow. I have to go further and further afield at this time of year to escape the vortex desperation of lemmings sucked towards the highest peaks. Arenig Fawr jumped out at me on the map - The description: "To some, the poor Southern relative of the Snowdonia bigger peaks" - but to me exactly the reason to reach for it's summit. The downside to these hills, is that their very disuse means the paths are not so precise, so trodden or so scarred. Map reading and navigation are worthwhile skills but even with my OS1;25,000 the description of the descent as, 'follows faint, sometimes invisible paths, across boggy vegetated hillsides" did worry me a little, especially as the clouds were already thickening over Snowdonia by the time we'd even reached Capel Curig !.
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  • She felt the solitude; she was alone and content to be so. She could walk for hours if she wanted to, without finding another soul. In a clearing in the dark woods grew a special tree, ancient and distorted, its wise old boughs now a large hand, enticing, beckoning. <br />
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The nubile young woman silently climbed onto its palm and slowly and purposefully eased her legs either side of a thick mossy branch, a large velvet finger now pressing into her womanhood. Her bodyweight pressed her lower onto the hard wood and she lay backwards, abandoning herself fully and completely to the sensuality of her position. The sticky heat of the day endured and as she lay there, gasping the warm air, she felt the first drops of perspiration trickling down her naked flesh.
    Intimately Connected
  • International MONO Awards 2014 - Honourable Mention <br />
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No one could see her, and she could see no one. Fog shrouded the open hilltop, soaking the grass and the heather. She relished the feeling of the cool vapour circling her body and she noticed only the gentle light from above.<br />
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Invisible within her elemental cloak of privacy, she felt an overwhelming sense of abandonment, a freedom to be herself. She wanted to dance naked and call into the void. At first she stretched, slowly and tentatively but the energy inside was bursting.<br />
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She extended herself to the limit, her fingertips measuring the breeze. She gracefully twisted her torso clockwise then anticlockwise and then leant backwards as far as she could, enjoying the sensation of her flexing muscles, supportive and strong.<br />
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She gently rose onto tiptoes and in a moment of euphoric liberation, sprang into the air, kicking out her feet and screamed into the weather. She felt more alive than ever.
    Mist Opportunity
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Glyn Davies, Professional Photographer and Gallery

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