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  • A mountain walker stops at a high point of a precipitous crag of Craig y Bera on Mynydd Mawr, to watch banks of cloud roll in from the Irish Sea and curl over the top of the Nantlle Ridge in Snowdonia, North Wales before evaporating again over the Nantlle valley.
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  • A choppy sea at the craggy coastline at Rhoscolyn with the moon rising over the Welsh mainland.
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  • August on Dartmoor. After months of earth-scorching summer the elements during our three day trip to this magical national park in the South West turned out to be mixed to say the least. Brooding clouds hovered over dark hillsides and the sun glowed rather than shone, through thin patches of grey blanket overhead. <br />
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I was taken aback by how lush the valleys were, so much more tree cover than here in North Wales. The variation in the vegetation was also surprising, creating quite a tapestry of earthy greens and browns. Of course, the most exciting aspect of this landscape for me, is the granite beneath, sometimes punching upwards as huge sculptural tors, monuments amidst acres of silent grasses and foliage. I find Dartmoor uniquely spiritual, enchanting even and I can’g wait to return.
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  • Sunset from the summit of Yr Wyddfa (Snowdon) before spending the night sleeping on the café floor whilst on a commercial shoot for a client.<br />
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The light was simply spectacular, with warm colours that belied the cold we felt due to the ‘wind-chill’ factor of gale force winds. We were greeted the next morning with thick cloud and bitterly cold drizzle so the evening light really was a magic moment.
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  • On the other side of the hill the winter sunshine warmed the rock, not enough to fry an egg, but enough to allow you to sit down without your buttocks freezing to the stone! Out of the icy north-westerly winds, it was possible to just sit and enjoy the view down the Llyn to Nefyn, Porth Dinllaen and Tudweiliog. The clouds scurried past at speed, but no matter how many there seemed to be, this day remained sunny and bright most of the time and was an enriching experience.
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  • Low cloud rolling in from the Irish Sea wraps around the summit of Mynydd Mawr and adjacent peaks of the Welsh mountains of Snowdonia at sunset. The top of a pine woodland can be seen on the hillside, separated from the background by  sheets of hill fog.
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  • If I knew I was dying, this would be an ideal place to go. On a grassy terrace high above the beach, looking South West over the Irish Sea, it brought back memories from so many places I’ve lived and visited, from Cornwall to the Azores, Scotland to the Canaries. The huge cliffs, steep drops and open expanse of the ocean would be a fitting place to finally close my eyes for the last time. I can only hope the poor sheep took similar uplifting thoughts with her!<br />
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A sheep skeleton lying on grass in bright afternoon Winter sunshine and rain showers over the Irish Sea and a rocky hillside on the hill top  above Nant Gwrtheyrn valley on the Northern Coast of the Llyn Peninsula, North Wales<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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  • Featureless mountain-tops led down to isolated 'findings' before shrubs, trees and man-made forms started dominating the landscape once more.
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  • I always enjoyed being on the hilltops when staying at Y Nant. There is liberation and escape on the open hillsides. The views are spectacular and wide and you can see for miles in most directions. As we are on a peninsula here, the sea and sky dominate everything, even more than the mountains running down its length. The snows gave the whole area an even greater freshness and brilliance of light. Just being there was invigorating and life-enhancing, the wind blowing deeply into your lungs and chilling your face.
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  • Retreating off the summit as huge sheets of rain swept across the peninsula, a most beautiful rounded granite boulder stood proud against the dark stunted vegetation all round. The wind ruffled the grasses as drops of rain started spitting in my face and then the stone sphere glistened under a torrential downpour, just one of millions in it's own process of shaping and growing older.
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  • Whilst waiting for my rock climbing partner to arrive, I couldn’t resist shooting this amazing morning sunshine illuminating striking cubist-looking slate crags. I saw them as huge landscape sculptures erupting from the dark grey slate waste all around.
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  • Stunning views over Langebaan Lagoon in the West Coast National Park on the West Coast of Africa. The crags were quite surreal and quite beautiful, sculptural even. I rarely photograph people but in this case using Jani in the shot really did help with a sense of scale.
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  • The impressive waterfall cascades down the cold and shadowy cliffs of Y Graig Ddu, whilst a bitter autumn wind buffets the still-lush pine trees in an intense early-morning sunlight.
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  • Before another traumatic Welsh lockdown, we decided last minute on an afternoon walk up to Penygadair.
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  • From my book Nant Gwrtheyrn - Y Swyngyfaredd (The Enchantment)<br />
<br />
This book is available for purchase here on www.glyndavies.com
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  • Hills of the Llyn in and out of fog.
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  • Unbelievably beautiful shapes, colours and textures in a cliff of slate in the Llanberis slate quarries. It was more reminiscent of an oil painting than a disused quarry face.
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  • 3 Edition A1 - 5 Edition A2<br />
(First two A1s SOLD, one remaining)<br />
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In brief glimpses through thick fog and heavy cloud, stunning recessional hills appeared, illuminated by subtle rays of weak afternoon sunshine, beautiful. In the far distance is Elidir Fawr, then the rounded peak of Mynydd Mawr, and finally the lower peaks of the Nantlle Ridge.<br />
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Views from the peaks of Tre'r Ceiri, an  Iron Age settlement / fortress steeped in Brythonic history of kings and tribes from the Dark Ages on Snowdonia's Llyn Peninsula. <br />
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Clouds and fog swirl around these peaks but when the fog clears, stunning views are to be had of the surrounding countryside. This place is ethereal, spiritual and always changing. The sense of past is strong and the identity with people living on this Iron Age hill top since the dark ages is potent.
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  • Spring Trees at the base of the gigantic 300' ancient waterfall of Malham Cove, reach for the last of the evening sunshine whilst rock climbers practice on the shadowy walls of the cliffs behind
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  • An ominous looking Mynydd Mawr in low cloud and bad weather as seen from the craggy summit of Moel Tryfan above Rhostryfan, Snowdonia, Gwynedd, Wales
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  • ".............we located the footpath and headed for the crag and a hut circle. Sadly, neither the intense evening sunlight nor the hut circle made an appearance, but just the walk up through thick heather to the fantastic shaped rocks made the jaunt worthwhile anyway. On the far side of the crag the land plummets steeply down a soft grass and heather covered hillside to the rocks below........." An old barn remains 'just' standing, patched and re-patched over the years. The signs of modern man, the telegraph poles and the wire fencing remind us that the past and present are always linked and often integral.
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  • There is a stark loneliness at this far-flung crag even in summer. The woman had been silently climbing the rocky crag to reach its flat top, where she crouched down to look around her. The slow turn of her head was the only movement in this still landscape but then she arose, her slender body illuminated by a ray of late afternoon sunshine. She turned to the light and stood on tiptoes before shouting into the breeze, “I can’t believe this! I’m alone on a mountain and I am completely NAKED! This is AMAZING!” She slowly rotated on her stone platform so that she could feel the warmth over every inch of her body and she revelled in the sensual experience of sun-warmed air flowing over her womanhood. She felt natural; she felt the rock; she loved the liberation and the open space. She was at one with the mountains.
    She Saw the Light
  • Banks of cloud roll in from the Irish Sea and curl over the top of the Nantlle Ridge in Snowdonia, North Wales, before evaporating again over the Nantlle valley at Drws y Coed. Taken from the a precipitous crag of Craig y Bera on the adjacent mountain of Mynydd Mawr.
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  • Two amorous Oystercatchers courted on the crag whilst an old face looks out over timeless seas
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  • In a streaming gale Jan and I crossed sand dunes to an almost deserted foam-strewn beach. The waves were heavy and fast and the wind was lifting and hurling foam creatures from the shoreline to the dunes, only avoiding splattering our faces thanks to slipstreaming! The sunlight was broken but when it burst through it was warm and rich, sparkling off the wet sand, backlighting oxygenated suds, waddling their way from the water margin. It was a bitterly cold air-stream sweeping down from the North, and poor Jan looked like a frozen rigid Chilli pepper in her new Paramo coat as I stumbled around on wave-soaked reefs. I was excited by the events in front of me but was ever conscious of my suffering slim companion. The spray was constant and when I looked towards the ancient burial chamber of Barclodiad y Gawres I could see horizontal sheets of spray contrasting with the brooding dark hillside. My lens was covered in spray within seconds and the thickness of salt meant that even specialist lens cloths were not effective at clearing off the saline coating - I accepted that today’s shots would be soft and droplet covered, and actually that no longer worries me these days, as atmosphere always beats detail. I balanced myself on a rock jutting from the pristine sand, ready to shoot the choppy sea but today again, I got caught out by one of those ‘tricksy’ seventh waves, which lifted to knee height which was already 18” above the beach, so this time I did get a boot-full of seawater but also a fun shot in the process - no award winner for sure but a great memory of a moment which had Jan laughing widely, even in her sub zero state :-)We walked on, my boot warming like a winter wetsuit and as I was already wet I resigned myself to further soakings as I haunched just an inch above wet sand to photograph a parade of the foamy suds. Finally we stood atop an isolated black crag in the center of this long sandy beach and we watched larger waves exploding over the offshore s
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  • After the harshness of the crags and cliff sides, the angular edges of the quarried levels and the tidy angles of the village itself, these large and beautifully rounded boulders seemed almost organic, and the way they spaced themselves evenly across the fine pebbles of the beach gave them a lifelike character of their own. It was hard to resist simply running my hands over the beautiful smooth curves, much as you would with a Henry Moore sculpture.
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  • After the harshness of the crags and cliff sides, the angular edges of the quarried levels and the tidy angles of the village itself, these large and beautifully rounded boulders seemed almost organic, and the way they spaced themselves evenly across the fine pebbles of the beach gave them a lifelike character of their own. It was hard to resist simply running my hands over the beautiful smooth curves, much as you would with a Henry Moore sculpture.
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  • After the harshness of the crags and cliff sides, the angular edges of the quarried levels and the tidy angles of the village itself, these large and beautifully rounded boulders seemed almost organic, and the way they spaced themselves evenly across the fine pebbles of the beach gave them a lifelike character of their own. It was hard to resist simply running my hands over the beautiful smooth curves, much as you would with a Henry Moore sculpture.
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  • No this isn’t filtered, this was shot in torrential rain that was back-lit by intense evening sunshine setting over the Irish Sea. I’d been checking out the climbing routes in the Dinorwic Quarries, waiting for the sun to come out from banks of heavy cloud, when I noticed a glow on the crags behind me. I rounded the corner and the sky was on fire. A first few drops of rain dappled the slate slabs around me so I hurried to the edge of the levels and rapidly set up my camera before the heavens opened up on top of me. I grabbed perhaps 10 frames in total as the sheets of rain moved across the hillsides. I also saw and managed to grab a shot of a most glorious rainbow behind me.
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  • Just before sunset, but in the shadow of the shoreline crags, a powerful repeating surge created an eerie disturbance in what was otherwise a calm sea. Looking out, I could meditate over the tranquillity of the scene, but when I looked down, the water was rising and falling in deep crevices, occasionally rising so high that it covered my boots, but then dropping maybe five feet down slippery slopes into the darkness.
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  • I spent most of my 20s rock climbing in Cornwall, from quiet and esoteric crags like St Loy, Rinsey and Carn Les Boel, to popular crags like Sennen, Bosigran and here in this picture, Chairladder. I always found Chairladder an intimidating place to climb, not particularly because of exposure or even height, but instead the confusion of three pitch routes and the wave cut step on which belayers have to stand, hoping their leaders complete the route before they drown in an Atlantic swimming pool! The funny thing is most visitors never ever get to se these cliffs, and their beautiful sculptural magic will always be the view of the sailor and the gymnastic dreamland of the climber, thank goodness!
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  • After the harshness of the crags and cliff sides, the angular edges of the quarried levels and the tidy angles of the village itself, these large and beautifully rounded boulders seemed almost organic, and the way they spaced themselves evenly across the fine pebbles of the beach gave them a lifelike character of their own. It was hard to resist simply running my hands over the beautiful smooth curves, much as you would with a Henry Moore sculpture.
    GD000795.jpg
  • After the harshness of the crags and cliff sides, the angular edges of the quarried levels and the tidy angles of the village itself, these large and beautifully rounded boulders seemed almost organic, and the way they spaced themselves evenly across the fine pebbles of the beach gave them a lifelike character of their own. It was hard to resist simply running my hands over the beautiful smooth curves, much as you would with a Henry Moore sculpture.
    GD000786.jpg
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Glyn Davies, Professional Photographer and Gallery

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