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  • A couple walking their dog in early summer heat at Crosby Beach, Liverpool.
    GD002036.jpg
  • Nominated for 11th International B&W Spider Awards<br />
<br />
Just a simple observation of two people walking along the summit of a huge wind-blown sand-dune in Fuerteventura. The fashion seemed so incongruous to the situation, and I loved the human relationship in this vast space, between the second man bending forward as his companion strode ahead oblivious.
    GD001446.jpg
  • I love the way the virgin snow of the drift seems to funnel upwards like an ice cream cone before exploding outwards across the sky in a 180º spread. <br />
<br />
It was an icy cold but beautiful day in the snowy mountains of the lower Carneddau. The walk which we planned to finish in 5 hours, had to be shortened drastically as thick snowdrifts made progress unbelievably slow. We cut out two peaks and walked just below the summits to save time but we still ended up on dangerous unconsolidated snow, hiding treacherous ankle-snapping drops into streams below. We finally arrived in near darkness at the Aber valley far below, in pain and having learned lessons for sure.
    GD001387.jpg
  • As is the way with my days off these days, there is no rush ever. Jan works long days and even longer nights in an intensive care department and there is NO shift pattern at all to allow a person’s body clock to plan the week. Her need for sleep catch up is vital, so I have learned not to expect a 7am leap out of bed, and instead to respect her body clock readjustment time. It doesn’t stop me getting fidgety however if the light looks amazing, and the day is going by :-)<br />
<br />
It was Sunday however, and for Jan a rare Sunday off, so whatever! The weather forecast was for brightness, light cloud, zero chance of rain and plenty of sunshine later. We could do a lazy leisurely hill walk later with no worries about the elements or timings. I didn’t really absorb the additional information I skimmed through on the mountain weather forecast though, which indicated freezing level at summits and 45mph winds. Nevertheless we threw in our Paramo’s and Rab wind proofs just in case, along with two flasks of steaming hot coffee.<br />
<br />
At about 2pm we started the one hour drive towards the distinctive pyramid shaped mountain called Cnicht. I haven’t done it for couple of years and I love the mountain (approximately 2200 feet). I have done it from the very meandrous North side and also from the shadowy East facing quarry valley of Cwm Orthin, which was today’s plan as I wanted to show Jan the old quarry workings. However, as part of her prep for some bigger mountains in the next few weeks she said she’d prefer a steep ascent, so we headed for Croesor on the brighter West side instead. This was a first for me too which was nice, making our way up the classic West ridge.<br />
<br />
We decided to have a cuppa and a sandwich in the cafe in the tiny, sleepy hamlet of Croesor but the cafe was so asleep it was closed! I was really surprised, this being the Easter break and a car park packed with walkers’ vehicles. We started up the long, bouldery woodland track before exiting right up towards
    GD001736.jpg
  • As is the way with my days off these days, there is no rush ever. Jan works long days and even longer nights in an intensive care department and there is NO shift pattern at all to allow a person’s body clock to plan the week. Her need for sleep catch up is vital, so I have learned not to expect a 7am leap out of bed, and instead to respect her body clock readjustment time. It doesn’t stop me getting fidgety however if the light looks amazing, and the day is going by :-)<br />
<br />
It was Sunday however, and for Jan a rare Sunday off, so whatever! The weather forecast was for brightness, light cloud, zero chance of rain and plenty of sunshine later. We could do a lazy leisurely hill walk later with no worries about the elements or timings. I didn’t really absorb the additional information I skimmed through on the mountain weather forecast though, which indicated freezing level at summits and 45mph winds. Nevertheless we threw in our Paramo’s and Rab wind proofs just in case, along with two flasks of steaming hot coffee.<br />
<br />
At about 2pm we started the one hour drive towards the distinctive pyramid shaped mountain called Cnicht. I haven’t done it for couple of years and I love the mountain (approximately 2200 feet). I have done it from the very meandrous North side and also from the shadowy East facing quarry valley of Cwm Orthin, which was today’s plan as I wanted to show Jan the old quarry workings. However, as part of her prep for some bigger mountains in the next few weeks she said she’d prefer a steep ascent, so we headed for Croesor on the brighter West side instead. This was a first for me too which was nice, making our way up the classic West ridge.<br />
<br />
We decided to have a cuppa and a sandwich in the cafe in the tiny, sleepy hamlet of Croesor but the cafe was so asleep it was closed! I was really surprised, this being the Easter break and a car park packed with walkers’ vehicles. We started up the long, bouldery woodland track before exiting right up towards
    GD001737.jpg
  • An icy cold but beautiful day in the snowy mountains of the lower Carneddau. The walk which we planned to finish in 5 hours had to be shortened drastically as thick snowdrifts made progress unbelievably slow. We cut out two peaks just below the summits, to save time, but still ended up on dangerous unconsolidated snow which hid treacherous ankle snapping sinks into streams below, as we headed down into the Aber valley in near darkness. Lessons to be learned for sure.
    GD001388.jpg
  • As is the way with my days off these days, there is no rush ever. Jan works long days and even longer nights in an intensive care department and there is NO shift pattern at all to allow a person’s body clock to plan the week. Her need for sleep catch up is vital, so I have learned not to expect a 7am leap out of bed, and instead to respect her body clock readjustment time. It doesn’t stop me getting fidgety however if the light looks amazing, and the day is going by :-)<br />
<br />
It was Sunday however, and for Jan a rare Sunday off, so whatever! The weather forecast was for brightness, light cloud, zero chance of rain and plenty of sunshine later. We could do a lazy leisurely hill walk later with no worries about the elements or timings. I didn’t really absorb the additional information I skimmed through on the mountain weather forecast though, which indicated freezing level at summits and 45mph winds. Nevertheless we threw in our Paramo’s and Rab wind proofs just in case, along with two flasks of steaming hot coffee.<br />
<br />
At about 2pm we started the one hour drive towards the distinctive pyramid shaped mountain called Cnicht. I haven’t done it for couple of years and I love the mountain (approximately 2200 feet). I have done it from the very meandrous North side and also from the shadowy East facing quarry valley of Cwm Orthin, which was today’s plan as I wanted to show Jan the old quarry workings. However, as part of her prep for some bigger mountains in the next few weeks she said she’d prefer a steep ascent, so we headed for Croesor on the brighter West side instead. This was a first for me too which was nice, making our way up the classic West ridge.<br />
<br />
We decided to have a cuppa and a sandwich in the cafe in the tiny, sleepy hamlet of Croesor but the cafe was so asleep it was closed! I was really surprised, this being the Easter break and a car park packed with walkers’ vehicles. We started up the long, bouldery woodland track before exiting right up towards
    GD001735.jpg
  • As is the way with my days off these days, there is no rush ever. Jan works long days and even longer nights in an intensive care department and there is NO shift pattern at all to allow a person’s body clock to plan the week. Her need for sleep catch up is vital, so I have learned not to expect a 7am leap out of bed, and instead to respect her body clock readjustment time. It doesn’t stop me getting fidgety however if the light looks amazing, and the day is going by :-)<br />
<br />
It was Sunday however, and for Jan a rare Sunday off, so whatever! The weather forecast was for brightness, light cloud, zero chance of rain and plenty of sunshine later. We could do a lazy leisurely hill walk later with no worries about the elements or timings. I didn’t really absorb the additional information I skimmed through on the mountain weather forecast though, which indicated freezing level at summits and 45mph winds. Nevertheless we threw in our Paramo’s and Rab wind proofs just in case, along with two flasks of steaming hot coffee.<br />
<br />
At about 2pm we started the one hour drive towards the distinctive pyramid shaped mountain called Cnicht. I haven’t done it for couple of years and I love the mountain (approximately 2200 feet). I have done it from the very meandrous North side and also from the shadowy East facing quarry valley of Cwm Orthin, which was today’s plan as I wanted to show Jan the old quarry workings. However, as part of her prep for some bigger mountains in the next few weeks she said she’d prefer a steep ascent, so we headed for Croesor on the brighter West side instead. This was a first for me too which was nice, making our way up the classic West ridge.<br />
<br />
We decided to have a cuppa and a sandwich in the cafe in the tiny, sleepy hamlet of Croesor but the cafe was so asleep it was closed! I was really surprised, this being the Easter break and a car park packed with walkers’ vehicles. We started up the long, bouldery woodland track before exiting right up towards
    GD001733.jpg
  • An icy cold but beautiful day in the snowy mountains of the lower Carneddau. The walk which we planned to finish in 5 hours had to be shortened drastically as thick snowdrifts made progress unbelievably slow. We cut out two peaks just below the summits, to save time, but still ended up on dangerous unconsolidated snow which hid treacherous ankle snapping sinks into streams below, as we headed down into the Aber valley in near darkness. Lessons to be learned for sure.
    GD001389.jpg
  • As is the way with my days off these days, there is no rush ever. Jan works long days and even longer nights in an intensive care department and there is NO shift pattern at all to allow a person’s body clock to plan the week. Her need for sleep catch up is vital, so I have learned not to expect a 7am leap out of bed, and instead to respect her body clock readjustment time. It doesn’t stop me getting fidgety however if the light looks amazing, and the day is going by :-)<br />
<br />
It was Sunday however, and for Jan a rare Sunday off, so whatever! The weather forecast was for brightness, light cloud, zero chance of rain and plenty of sunshine later. We could do a lazy leisurely hill walk later with no worries about the elements or timings. I didn’t really absorb the additional information I skimmed through on the mountain weather forecast though, which indicated freezing level at summits and 45mph winds. Nevertheless we threw in our Paramo’s and Rab wind proofs just in case, along with two flasks of steaming hot coffee.<br />
<br />
At about 2pm we started the one hour drive towards the distinctive pyramid shaped mountain called Cnicht. I haven’t done it for couple of years and I love the mountain (approximately 2200 feet). I have done it from the very meandrous North side and also from the shadowy East facing quarry valley of Cwm Orthin, which was today’s plan as I wanted to show Jan the old quarry workings. However, as part of her prep for some bigger mountains in the next few weeks she said she’d prefer a steep ascent, so we headed for Croesor on the brighter West side instead. This was a first for me too which was nice, making our way up the classic West ridge.<br />
<br />
We decided to have a cuppa and a sandwich in the cafe in the tiny, sleepy hamlet of Croesor but the cafe was so asleep it was closed! I was really surprised, this being the Easter break and a car park packed with walkers’ vehicles. We started up the long, bouldery woodland track before exiting right up towards
    GD001734.jpg
  • Tiny drops of sunshine torch-light the dark rolling hills of North Wales' Lleyn Peninsula, and in the middle distance lie the sites of several iron age hill forts.
    GD001538.jpg
  • Official and hard-wearing footpaths are needed on Wales' highest mountain, Snowdon, simply due to the vast numbers of walkers aiming for it's summit. Nevertheless the hillsides and surrounding peaks are always fantastic, despite the crowds.
    GD001686.jpg
  • The summit of Yr Wyddfa (Snowdon) Wales' highest mountain, as seen from a lower peak of Yr Aran, above the huge bowl of the corrie of Cwm Llan.
    GD001377.jpg
  • GD001032.jpg
  • Fairbourne Railway Bridge over the Mawddach Estuary at Barmouth, mid Wales, in Spring sunlight
    Rail In Barmouth
  • A phenomenal temperature inversion in North Wales, leaving only the summits of Snowdonia's hughest peaks in glaring sunshine above the cloud bank. Here we see the first peaks of the Nantlle Ridge, a hill walker's paradise, with Moel Hebog just making an appearance in the far distance.
    GD001792.jpg
  • Stunning views of the surroundings hills and valleys whilst descending from Yr Wyddfa (Snowdon) Wales' highest mountain. The effects of glaciation are clearly visible and explains why so many educational groups come to this region to study geography and geomorphology
    GD001497.jpg
  • The huge & imposing massif of Yr Wyddfa (Snowdon) Wales' highest mountain. This was taken following a last minute decision to slog up Mynydd Mawr under inclement weather but it resulted in just the most fantastic hour of weather-watching from it's summit. I was utterly gripped by the continual theatrical change of light being played out across the Snowdonia hills. If it were not for my friend feeling frozen I would have braved another hour or so of just sitting and watching.
    GD001343.jpg
  • This is the upper lake just below the summit of Elidir Fawr, which is streamed into huge pipes which feed the 4 turbines in the power station 500 meters below. The water is pumped back up at night when demand is low and pumping costs are least.
    GD001373.jpg
  • Stunning views of the surroundings hills and valleys whilst descending from Yr Wyddfa (Snowdon) Wales' highest mountain. The effects of glaciation are clearly visible and explains why so many educational groups come to this region to study geography and geomorphology
    GD001499.jpg
  • A phenomenal temperature inversion in North Wales, leaving only the summits of Snowdonia's highest peaks in glaring sunshine above the cloud bank.  <br />
<br />
Tryfan & the Glyderau are the high peaks in the background and Yr Wyddfa (Snowdon) fill the foreground above the fog
    GD001892.jpg
  • A phenomenal temperature inversion in Snowdonia, North Wales, leaving only the summits of Snowdonia's highest peaks in glaring sunshine above the cloud bank. This ridge of Mynydd Mawr is at cloud level, just before breaking into bright sunshine, the cloud below dark and ominous.
    GD001793.jpg
  • During awful, dreary weather in Snowdonia, a break appeared in the clouds and evening sunshine flooded in an upon this soft and ancient Welsh landscape. It looks as though a theatre spot light has been turned on but the lighting is natural and just the way I saw it.
    GD001579.jpg
  • GD001467.jpg
  • Glimpses of sunshine - patches of fast-moving light scudding across the striking ridges of Yr Wyddfa (Snowdon) and its foothills. First warm rays - an ultraviolet shower between snow-clad peaks. Perfect company and amongst this theatrical majesty, a young woman’s first illuminating and exhilarating ascent of a Welsh mountain
    GD002006
  • A phenomenal temperature inversion in North Wales, leaving only the summits of Snowdonia's hughest peaks in glaring sunshine above the cloud bank.
    GD001952.jpg
  • A phenomenal temperature inversion in North Wales, leaving only the summits of Snowdonia's hughest peaks in glaring sunshine above the cloud bank.
    GD001951.jpg
  • Fit blonde woman starting the famous and difficut hiking trail down the Masca Barranco Gorge in Tenerife which leads from the high mountain village of Masca down to the Atlantic Ocean at Masca Beach.
    GD001764.jpg
  • There was a draw, I wanted to just leap into the light, to soar like a raven into the void - I wanted the light, I needed the light and the cool vapours swirled around me as the sun tried to warm my face. <br />
<br />
It was caused by a phenomenal temperature inversion in North Wales, leaving only the summits of Snowdonia's highest peaks in glaring sunshine above the cloud bank.
    GD001891.jpg
  • 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 !
    GD001297.jpg
  • Winner - Honourable Mention in 10th (2017) International Colour Awards (Nature category) <br />
<br />
The huge & imposing massif of Yr Wyddfa (Snowdon) Wales' highest mountain. This was taken following a last minute decision to slog up Mynydd Mawr under inclement weather but it resulted in just the most fantastic hour of weather-watching from it's summit. I was utterly gripped by the continual theatrical change of light being played out across the Snowdonia hills. If it were not for my friend feeling frozen I would have braved another hour or so of just sitting and watching.
    GD001347.jpg
  • The iconic and craggy peak of Tryfan, a hill walkers' mecca in the heart of Snowdonia, peaks it's irregular summit in the far distance, but to the right, deceptively looking even higher, is the huge rounded and open peak of Glyder Fawr. <br />
<br />
This was taken following a last minute decision to slog up Mynydd Mawr under inclement weather but it resulted in just the most fantastic hour of weather-watching from it's summit. I was utterly gripped by the continual theatrical change of light being played out across the Snowdonia hills. If it were not for my friend feeling frozen I would have braved another hour or so of just sitting and watching.
    GD001342.jpg
  • SUN28 Shot Up North Awards winning entry (2016).<br />
<br />
International Color Awards 2016 - Nominee in "Nature" category<br />
<br />
The huge & imposing massif of Yr Wyddfa (Snowdon) Wales' highest mountain. This was taken following a last minute decision to slog up Mynydd Mawr under inclement weather but it resulted in just the most fantastic hour of weather-watching from it's summit. I was utterly gripped by the continual theatrical change of light being played out across the Snowdonia hills.
    GD001348.jpg
  • A phenomenal temperature inversion in North Wales, leaving only the summits of Snowdonia's highest peaks in glaring sunshine above the cloud bank but here in the transition zone on Mynydd Mawr the fog created eerie views above steep and craggy mountain cliffs.
    GD001953.jpg
  • GD001498.jpg
  • 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 !
    GD001292.jpg
  • The huge & imposing massif of Yr Wyddfa (Snowdon) Wales' highest mountain. This was taken following a last minute decision to slog up Mynydd Mawr under inclement weather but it resulted in just the most fantastic hour of weather-watching from it's summit. I was utterly gripped by the continual theatrical change of light being played out across the Snowdonia hills. If it were not for my friend feeling frozen I would have braved another hour or so of just sitting and watching.
    GD001344.jpg
  • A last minute decision to slog up Mynydd Mawr on a mixed weather day, resulted in just the most fantastic hour of weather watching from it's summit. I was utterly gripped by the continual theatrical change being played out acros the Snowdonia Range. If it were not for my friend feeling rather chilly I think I'd have braved another hpour or so of just sitting and watching.
    GD001534.jpg
  • A phenomenal temperature inversion in North Wales, leaving only the summits of Snowdonia's hughest peaks in glaring sunshine above the cloud bank.
    GD001950.jpg
  • Fit blonde woman tying shoelace during the decent of the famous and difficut hiking trail down the Masca Barranco Gorge in Teneriffe. This trail leads from the high mountain village of Masca down to the Atlantic Ocean at Masca Beach.
    GD001765.jpg
  • A phenomenal temperature inversion in North Wales, leaving only the summits of Snowdonia's highest peaks in glaring sunshine above the cloud bank.  <br />
<br />
Nantlle Ridge peaking above a vast sea of fog in brillian sunshine. Below. it seemed like an awful dull wet day.
    GD001893.jpg
  • 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 OS 1:25,000 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!
    GD001294.jpg
  • Stunning views of the surroundings hills and valleys whilst descending from Yr Wyddfa (Snowdon) Wales' highest mountain. The effects of glaciation are clearly visible and explains why so many educational groups come to this region to study geography and geomorphology
    GD001500.jpg
  • The huge & imposing massif of Yr Wyddfa (Snowdon) Wales' highest mountain. This was taken following a last minute decision to slog up Mynydd Mawr under inclement weather but it resulted in just the most fantastic hour of weather-watching from it's summit. I was utterly gripped by the continual theatrical change of light being played out across the Snowdonia hills. If it were not for my friend feeling frozen I would have braved another hour or so of just sitting and watching.
    GD001346.jpg
  • Nominated for 11th International B&W Spider Awards<br />
<br />
The huge & imposing massif of Yr Wyddfa (Snowdon) Wales' highest mountain. This was taken following a last minute decision to slog up Mynydd Mawr under inclement weather but it resulted in just the most fantastic hour of weather-watching from it's summit. I was utterly gripped by the continual theatrical change of light being played out across the Snowdonia hills. If it were not for my friend feeling frozen I would have braved another hour or so of just sitting and watching.
    GD001345.jpg
  • 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 !
    GD001293.jpg
  • GD001206.jpg
  • The peak of Yr Elen in the Carneddau range, Snowdonia, covered in shadows of passing cumulus clouds.
    GD001033.jpg
  • On the summit in dark swirling cloud. A delicate sun glimmered through the vapour, illuminating shards of quartz-covered, shattered wet rock.<br />
.<br />
I was alone on the summit and it helped create the feeling that this pictorial wonder was my privilege alon
    GD002348.jpg
  • On the summit in dark swirling cloud. A delicate sun glimmered through the vapour, illuminating shards of quartz-covered, shattered wet rock. <br />
<br />
I was alone on the summit and it helped create the feeling that this pictorial wonder was my privilege alone.
    GD002346.jpg
  • "Coming Home" shot just now!<br />
<br />
Having been stranded in South Africa during the worst pandemic in a century, when poverty and related crime become as potentially dangerous as the virus itself, we were finally evacuated back to the UK by a British Government plane. We are so relieved to be back on Welsh soil, and to have the relative freedom to walk out of our front gates, something denied to us for more than three weeks in locked down South Africa.<br />
<br />
We did a lovely walk today to try and regenerate ourselves and it was Heaven. We met several wonderful friends along the way, whom from several meters away, we were able to enjoy chatting with, revelling in human communication with others, again something denied during a total lockdown in South Africa.<br />
<br />
We ended the walk via the Belgian Prom and honestly, Telford’s Bridge has never looked so solid, so magnificent, so secure, so timeless, so beautiful. That bridge has seen wars and diseases and big cultural changes, and it’s outlived us all. It was familiar, it was welcoming, it was reassuring and ‘normal’. Watching the tide roaring between the arches was mesmerising and levelling. We will have lost so many people to this awful, society and world changing disease, but the planet will keep on spinning, the tide will keep on turning and the sun will keep on shining regardless.<br />
<br />
As I worry beyond all worry, about my Jani walking into a dangerous zone in the local hospital on a regular basis, and potentially bringing the danger home as well, I desperately try to remember that we all die eventually anyway, but that ‘life‘ will go on. It’s all a matter of time but I really don’t want anyone I love to go just yet.
    GD002446.jpg
  • It was slightly nerve wracking walking out onto this old dissused jetty, with wave after wave splashing over my waist every second or so. It really felt as if I was walking on the surface of the sea at some points, and at others where the jetty had broken, I was walking IN the sea! My camera got soaked, my clothes got soaked but I enjoyed the experience anyway.
    GD002487.jpg
  • From a shoot alongside the BBC's 'Weatherman Walking' series with Derek Brockway. I was acting as guide for the walk because of my book about the location.<br />
<br />
We had just come up from Tre'r onto the summit of Garn Ganol. The hill fog had been very thick, swirling in a clammy wet blanket about us which was very atmospheric but also blocked all the views. Here however, the cloud suddenly parted and revealed beautiful patches of sunlit Llyn Landscape. Even the cameramen were ecstatic about the weather phenomenon before us - stunning.
    GD000935a.jpg
  • En route to an afternoon in the Welsh hills, I stopped off to check the state of the snow, and just loved the light over the Strait, and in particular the way it highlighted Ynys Gorad Goch. Having just absorbed the view for a few minutes, it changed my mind from walking Drosgl, to walking Moel Eilio and Foel Goch instead ! :-)
    GD001393.jpg
  • On a walk where I sank in soft mud; a walk where BOTH soles came off my walking boots; where I simply couldn’t find what I’ve been hunting for over several years now, I nevertheless felt awed by the sheer beauty of this mirrored universe - what a truly amazing place to live
    GD002561.jpg
  • Surprisingly, with the beautiful Telford’s Suspension Bridge carrying dozens of morning commuters’ vehicles ever minute, there was a peaceful serenity down here at the waters edge. I stood on the gritty shoreline and watched as the calm water silently rose up my boots towards my ankles, visible, discernible a creeping cleansing of everything in its path. <br />
<br />
Oystercatchers called from a nearby drowning mud flat after being disturbed from their slumber in the warm morning sunshine.  I could hear the sound of the tide as it surged past the huge arches stood steadfast in the Menai Strait. <br />
<br />
Intermittent puffs of smoke rose from the old waterside cottage, its timber panels faintly creaking as they warmed.  No one appeared at the windows and no one could be seen walking the bridge and even the dog walkers of the Belgian Prom seemed absent. There was a sense of tranquillity in this normally busy spot.<br />
Oystercatchers called from a nearby drowning mud flat after being disturbed from their slumber in the warm morning sunshine.  I could hear the sound of the tide as it surged past the huge arches stood steadfast in the Menai Strait. <br />
<br />
Intermittent puffs of smoke rose from the old waterside cottage, its timber panels faintly creaking as they warmed.  No one appeared at the windows and no one could be seen walking the bridge and even the dog walkers of the Belgian Prom seemed absent. There was a sense of tranquillity in this normally busy spot.
    GD002146.jpg
  • En route to an afternoon in the Welsh hills, I stopped off to check the state of the snow, and just loved the light over the Strait, and in particular the way it highlighted Ynys Gorad Goch. Having just absorbed the view for a few minutes, it changed my mind from walking Drosgl, to walking Moel Eilio and Foel Goch instead ! :-)
    GD001394.jpg
  • On the eve of another severe lockdown, with my head closing in and the first irregular heartbeats in many months beating in my chest, I raced out to the coast for last minute medication. Since I heard about this mis-targeted lockdown, I’ve been telling myself “it’s just two weeks, it’s just two weeks, you can do it” but I’ve been in panic mode all day. Almost without fail after work, for years, I’ve always had a deep need to escape to the hills or the coast, it’s almost like an addiction because it makes me feel so good, so alive, that there’s a reason I’m on this earth.<br />
.<br />
I think about the little city-men in suits, who seem oblivious to the mental health benefits of people being allowed to continue to get into nature, but who instead blanket legislate without thought about the unnecessary damage they are creating to well-being. Walking on a lonely beach or cliff-top harms no-one. Even at its busiest, Llanddwyn is massive with so much space to avoid others. Instead we are forced to walk the town paths like hamsters on a wheel with 20,000 other trapped souls. Why are they hitting everyone with such severe restrictions, instead of targeting those people & activities that really spread the killer disease?<br />
.<br />
I’m still telling myself that it’s just two weeks and my lovely ITU lady who see the disease at its worst, also tries to calm me down about lockdowns! What an amazing angel, dealing with physically ill patients and a mentally wobbly partner !
    GD002538.jpg
  • On the eve of another severe lockdown, with my head closing in and the first irregular heartbeats in many months beating in my chest, I raced out to the coast for last minute medication. Since I heard about this mis-targeted lockdown, I’ve been telling myself “it’s just two weeks, it’s just two weeks, you can do it” but I’ve been in panic mode all day. Almost without fail after work, for years, I’ve always had a deep need to escape to the hills or the coast, it’s almost like an addiction because it makes me feel so good, so alive, that there’s a reason I’m on this earth.<br />
.<br />
I think about the little city-men in suits, who seem oblivious to the mental health benefits of people being allowed to continue to get into nature, but who instead blanket legislate without thought about the unnecessary damage they are creating to well-being. Walking on a lonely beach or cliff-top harms no-one. Even at its busiest, Llanddwyn is massive with so much space to avoid others. Instead we are forced to walk the town paths like hamsters on a wheel with 20,000 other trapped souls. Why are they hitting everyone with such severe restrictions, instead of targeting those people & activities that really spread the killer disease?<br />
.<br />
I’m still telling myself that it’s just two weeks and my lovely ITU lady who see the disease at its worst, also tries to calm me down about lockdowns! What an amazing angel, dealing with physically ill patients and a mentally wobbly partner !
    GD002539.jpg
  • Clouds built over the horizon but in the last of the sun they looked beautifully dramatic, textural and crisp. In fact there was so much texture in front of me that it was hard to find the minimalist simplicity I've been drawn to recently. For maybe ten minutes the world turned pink, the hue washed over the sky and infused in the gentle waves, even the wet sand threw it back skyward. I stood in the sea, in my walking boots, wave after wave lapping at my shins but amazingly my feet stayed as warm as the sunset colours. I studied the waves smoothing and cleansing the beach before me, back to perfection.
    GD001169.jpg
  • No A1 prints left. A2 and smaller only<br />
<br />
"Clouds built over the horizon but in the last of the sun they looked beautifully dramatic, textural and crisp. In fact there was so much texture in front of me that it was hard to find the minimalist simplicity I've been drawn to recently. For maybe ten minutes the world turned pink, the hue washed over the sky and infused in the gentle waves, even the wet sand threw it back skyward. I stood in the sea, in my walking boots, wave after wave lapping at my shins but amazingly my feet stayed as warm as the sunset colours. I studied the waves smoothing and cleansing the beach before me, back to perfection.<br />
<br />
The expanse of Llanddwyn beach and the peak of Holyhead Mountain can be seen in the background"
    GD001171.jpg
  • Clouds built over the horizon but in the last of the sun they looked beautifully dramatic, textural and crisp. In fact there was so much texture in front of me that it was hard to find the minimalist simplicity I've been drawn to recently. For maybe ten minutes the world turned pink, the hue washed over the sky and infused in the gentle waves, even the wet sand threw it back skyward. I stood in the sea, in my walking boots, wave after wave lapping at my shins but amazingly my feet stayed as warm as the sunset colours. I studied the waves smoothing and cleansing the beach before me, back to perfection.
    GD001170.jpg
  • From a shoot with the BBC's Weatherman Walking Series with Derek Brockway...I had just finished the last interview, where I relate one of the legends of Nant Gwrtheyrn to Derek, and they then headed off for Porth Dinllaen but I stayed back a while until almost dark, when I shot this dusk image over the Irish Sea. This is a straight shot, no colour adjustments, and a tweak to the contrast. It was stunning, after a very surreal day of swirling hill fog on the top of Tre'r Ceiri and Garn Ganol.
    GD000937.jpg
  • From a short series of images taken after a very wet rainy day. I had gone to the beach anyway and started walking in the drizzle just to get fresh air. I played with my iPhone taking numerous fun pictures with some on-board software but as I was playing, the skies broke a little, and holes of daylight swept past, briefly and teasingly but the effect on the wet sands was awesome. The rain had meant most visitors had stayed away even the dreaded dog walkers and their sand destroying pooches ! I was alone and totally in the zone. After dark I ran through the waves for the sheer hell of it.  Full story will be on my blog at http://www.glynsblog.com  © Glyn Davies 2010 - All rights reserved.
    GD001873.jpg
  • Dusk in the West, at Aberdesach on the Northern edge of the Llyn Peninsula in North Wales, facing out to the Irish Sea. The mountains of Gyrn Goch, Yr Eifl and Garn For are in the background. <br />
<br />
Clouds built over the horizon but in the last of the sun they looked beautifully dramatic, textural and crisp. In fact there was so much texture in front of me that it was hard to find the minimalist simplicity I've been drawn to recently. For maybe ten minutes the world turned pink, the hue washed over the sky and infused in the gentle waves, even the wet sand threw it back skyward. I stood in the sea, in my walking boots, wave after wave lapping at my shins but amazingly my feet stayed as warm as the sunset colours. I studied the waves smoothing and cleansing the beach before me, back to perfection.
    GD001172.jpg
  • After two amazing days of rock climbing in near 20º sunshine here in North Wales, I found myself walking on Llanddwyn Beach after work today, revelling in the unusual weather conditions. If global warming meant more lovely days like this all year round, with no negative impacts, I’d say bring it on!!<br />
.<br />
The sea was very calm indeed, but as usual the Malltraeth side offered some small but fast waves, crashing against the evening sunlit cliffs. Dozens & dozens of lemming like figures dotted the dunes, rocks and forest edge, all focussing their beady eyes on the setting sun.
    GD002358.jpg
  • This is my Ladybird Book of the Countryside picture. It has all the romantic elements except the pheasant on the wall and ducks on the grass, but the buildings are just what I’d expect from the 1950s British countryside. Normally the yard looks rather quiet, but on this evening, a white horse was slowly walking about, very slowly. I just knew the moment had to be as the horse walked between the two foreground trees, catching the late evening sunlight as it did so. If it had been 2 meters further back it would have been in shadow (but at least social distancing!). So luck came out to play this evening.
    GD002471.jpg
  • After two amazing days of rock climbing in near 20º sunshine here in North Wales, I found myself walking on Llanddwyn Beach after work today, revelling in the unusual weather conditions. If global warming meant more lovely days like this all year round, with no negative impacts, I’d say bring it on!!<br />
.<br />
The sea was very calm indeed, but as usual the Malltraeth side offered some small but fast waves, crashing against the evening sunlit cliffs. Dozens & dozens of lemming like figures dotted the dunes, rocks and forest edge, all focussing their beady eyes on the setting sun.
    GD002359.jpg
  • A simple shot of Bangor Pier taken as the thick fog banks from a temperature inversion cleared in the warm morning sunshine. It was strange to see the Snowdonia mountains appear first, and then slowly but surely Bangor Pier and the Menai Strait, until finally the fog disappeared altogether.
    GD002307.jpg
  • A hillside tree is sillouetted by dramatic sunlight reflecting off the vast bay of Traeth Coch, (Red Wharf Bay) which at low tide reveals a pattern of sand cusps in the wet sand which reflect the bright sunshine. Small figures at the water's edge on the shoreline show the scale of this beach. <br />
<br />
Following a specific location request from one of my customers, I found myself (almost) lost outside Llangoed on a warm late summer's afternoon. The sunshine back-lit the leaves of lush overgrown lanes as Cara Dillon sang to me in the front of the van. The hedgerows literally brushed past me as I ventured into narrower and narrower pathways, crows giving buzzards a temporary reprieve as they laughed at my black VW squeezing it's way out towards the bay.<br />
<br />
The shallow beach at extreme low tide creates huge cusps of sand and water, resembling textile designs from the 1960s! The vicious and burning intensity of the light on the retina was not from the sun itself but from it's reflection on the wet sand. Although I tried to compose using peripheral vision I still was left temporarily blinded after shooting some frames.<br />
<br />
Of course the contrast between the sunlit sand and the dry areas surrounding, meant the contrast was of the scale. To me, this was wonderful though, for just as looking towards the light blinded me, I found the fake shadows to be a beautiful and textural contrast, absolutely stunning.
    GD001010.jpg
  • These two huge obelisks, the Coal Rock Beacons, locally known as the Two White Ladies are 45ft tall stone navigation marks set on the hillside at Carmel Head, North Anglesey. They were erected by the Mersey Docks & Harbour Board as an aid to shipping navigating to Liverpool docks. <br />
<br />
These days in the age of electronic & satellite navigation they are far less relevant, but walking past them, isolated on these near deserted cliffs, they are surreal and imposing and reminiscent of scenes form the film 2001 - A Space Odyssey!
    GD002208.jpg
  • Absolutely incredible, beautiful light and colours on this West Coast Anglesey beach. I was alone and windswept but colours washed around my feet, like walking in magic. Gulls cried above the relentlessly roaring sea, at the excitement of seeing sunlight after such a wild stormy day.
    GD002034.jpg
  • After two amazing days of rock climbing in near 20º sunshine here in North Wales, I found myself walking on Llanddwyn Beach after work today, revelling in the unusual weather conditions. If global warming meant more lovely days like this all year round, with no negative impacts, I’d say bring it on!!<br />
.<br />
The sea was very calm indeed, but as usual the Malltraeth side offered some small but fast waves, crashing against the evening sunlit cliffs. Dozens & dozens of lemming like figures dotted the dunes, rocks and forest edge, all focussing their beady eyes on the setting sun.
    GD002360.jpg
  • It was a calm, silvery sea at dusk. There was hardy a drop of wind and the air, for April, was warm enough. It was near silent on the beach, just the distant voices of a couple walking in the dunes behind. <br />
<br />
I’d hoped the sun would have been a little more intense having raced across Anglesey to get to the beach, but everything was delicate and muted. From the sea bed, remnants of energy pulses from ocean storms thousands of miles away finally reared up and gasped a last breath on the shingle shore. <br />
<br />
I stood on some low rocks at the waterline and watched the sea tide slowly come in around me. Every so often a rogue bigger wave would crash over the rock and I’d lose sight of my feet in the white foam. Against the brighter surface of the sea, these little hillocks of water looked dark in their own shadows.
    GD002184.jpg
  • Possibly the strongest winds I’ve ever battled against; so strong that I was knocked sideways twice by gale-force gusts. My face and camera were sandblasted by the stinging particles, and yet, I was equally blown-away and utterly invigorated by the power of it all. The flying sheets of sand were side-lit by blazing sunshine, not long before towering walls of darkness moved in rapidly from the West. I took some other versions of this image where it literally looks I'm walking on clouds of sand, but I wanted to retain the visual of these boulders in the foreground, which became obscured in the other views.
    GD002505.jpg
  • After weeks in self isolation and lockdown in South Africa, walks in the Anglesey countryside really were like a walk to freedom. Everything seemed fresh, special, more intense and beautful than ever before. We really do live in a beautful place.
    GD002455.jpg
  • Normally I avoid taking pictures of the mountains when they only have light patchy snow, as I always think it looks 'messy' but this evening, in the last of the sunlight before dusk, there was something subtly beautiful about it all, so I relented and made an image before a very muddy, squelchy, flooded walk home.
    GD002579.jpg
  • I think most of my family, friends & followers of my work have seen how far I’ve been sinking since lockdown started back in Africa in March. I haven’t coped that well with losing access to one of the main cures for my darkness, getting out into the landscape & nature. It’s been a real battle internally and I felt I was losing a grip on what life was about, so many waves of loss, fear and entrapment. <br />
<br />
So with the latest minimal change to Welsh lockdown rules, and the ability to drive five miles to meet friends or get exercise, it’s been euphoric for me. My first walk up a small hill, just to be in the mountains again, was as if it was my first time! My heart literally was pounding with excitement and I found myself grinning constantly as I ascended the hill. I found it remarkable to just watch my feet in their walking shoes, taking steps up rocks and grass covered slopes. The wind was cold and I’d delayed the start of the walk to allow a heavy hail shower to pass over, but when the June sunshine appeared it bathed me in warmth and joy. <br />
<br />
From the summit I was able to see all the major peaks, the Carneddau, Tryfan, the Glyderau, Yr Wyddfa, Garnedd Elidir, and even Yr Eifel on the Llyn. A couple passed me on their way down and after an awkward, socially distanced acknowledgement as is the way these days, I saw no one for the rest of the time in the hills. It was the sort of solitude I yearn for, the solitude of choice not the solitude of jail.   <br />
<br />
Shortly before another heavy hail shower, which lasted almost half an hour, I found myself enchanted by the morphing dark clouds over the Carneddau, even their ominous depth seemed magical and awesome. Quite suddenly an intense beam of warm sunshine split the sombre scene and caressed its way up and over Foel Meirch until it ticked the shrouded summit of Carnedd Dafydd. It was my perfect light, theatrical and dramatic, a play with no characters, just backdrops. <br />
<br />
I sat on the summit, alone and happy in my own thou
    GD002484.jpg
  • Nominated for 11th International B&W Spider Awards<br />
<br />
Walking in the baking heat of the desert landscape in Northern Fuerteventura, my mouth was dry, my skin burned, the air seemed to suck moisture direct from my lungs. The wind whipped sand across my legs and every step in the soft sand was an effort in the middy sunshine. <br />
<br />
At the back of a beach these would be no more than fun dunes but even in this very small piece of landscape, the distant hills seemed even further away than I’d imagined, and each sandy hill was a mountain that defeated uphill progress. I found a drinks can, so beaten by the ultraviolet radiation and intense conditions that it was completely devoid of its original colours and was breaking down in structure. <br />
<br />
And yet, despite the extreme sensations I was experiencing, there was a beauty in the hostile environment, a delicate aesthetic that lures you in to its heart; unspoiled virginal white sand sculpted by nature into wonderful curvaceous shapes. <br />
<br />
Every time I revisit this island I am drawn back to this mini desert, but it has left me with a thirst to experience more vast and impressive deserts. Is it that the shifting surfaces and the labyrinthine of changing landscape features makes these places more magical, or surreal? It may be that we are visiting Namibia in 2018 so my curiosity and hunger for these places may be sated.
    GD001441
  • Walking in the baking heat of the desert landscape in Northern Fuerteventura, my mouth was dry, my skin burned, the air seemed to suck moisture direct from my lungs. The wind whipped sand across my legs and every step in the soft sand was an effort in the middy sunshine. <br />
<br />
At the back of a beach these would be no more than fun dunes but even in this very small piece of landscape, the distant hills seemed even further away than I’d imagined, and each sandy hill was a mountain that defeated uphill progress. I found a drinks can, so beaten by the ultraviolet radiation and intense conditions that it was completely devoid of its original colours and was breaking down in structure. <br />
<br />
And yet, despite the extreme sensations I was experiencing, there was a beauty in the hostile environment, a delicate aesthetic that lures you in to its heart; unspoiled virginal white sand sculpted by nature into wonderful curvaceous shapes. <br />
<br />
Every time I revisit this island I am drawn back to this mini desert, but it has left me with a thirst to experience more vast and impressive deserts. Is it that the shifting surfaces and the labyrinthine of changing landscape features makes these places more magical, or surreal? It may be that we are visiting Namibia in 2018 so my curiosity and hunger for these places may be sated.
    GD001449.jpg
  • Another fantastic day walking in the Welsh mountains, this time with my gorgeous lady. It was bitterly cold as we started up the hill, and then when we reached the col the breeze chilled it even further. The sun started to come out from beneath a huge blanket of grey cloud and we enjoyed a hint of warmth on the ascent to the frost covered summit. We didn't hang around at the summit at all, as we knew we'd be in the dark on the final freezing leg back down the Northern bluff to the car park. Couldn't resist however, taking these images as we left the summit and faced the setting sun. Beautiful, wonderful, magical afternoon in real Wales, with Jani
    GD002350.jpg
  • Another fantastic day walking in the Welsh mountains, this time with my gorgeous lady. It was bitterly cold as we started up the hill, and then when we reached the col the breeze chilled it even further. The sun started to come out from beneath a huge blanket of grey cloud and we enjoyed a hint of warmth on the ascent to the frost covered summit. We didn't hang around at the summit at all, as we knew we'd be in the dark on the final freezing leg back down the Northern bluff to the car park. Couldn't resist however, taking these images as we left the summit and faced the setting sun. Beautiful, wonderful, magical afternoon in real Wales, with Jani
    GD002349.jpg
  • I’ve seen elephants in zoos of course, restricted, moving around in circles, stared at by the thousands of noisy visitors - such a desperate form of existence. In the 22,270 km² Etosha National Park in NW Namibia however, I was for the first time able to see these truly magnificent creatures in their natural habitat. Watching David Attenborough programs on TV is always a delight, but nothing prepares you for the sheer awe of seeing these animals in real life in their own world.<br />
.<br />
From the heavily corrugated dust track we were on, the first thing I saw was what looked like a huge rounded granite boulder over the top of a hillock, but as we drove to the crest of the mound we realised it was in fact the head of a huge African elephant standing at a waterhole! This was real and I’ve never felt so small or humbled by natural wildlife. There are strict instructions never to leave your vehicle whilst in the park, so I had to accept that looking out of the window of our 4x4 was the best I was going to get.<br />
.<br />
All around us herds of Zebra were also drinking, running & frolicking with each other. Springbok daintily skipped past & Oryx & Giraffes were all there too. Hundreds of birds flitted about and falcons and other birds of prey circled overhead. It was a visual tapestry of wildlife with so many species all measuring each other up and acknowledging the hierarchies at the hole. What struck me most was the grace of motion of the elephants. Every movement of foot or trunk was slow, fluid & purposeful. At times they were just like living statues, almost motionless, just studying the world about them & at other times when walking, able to cover big distances so quickly but so gently. I was aware that they were aware of us, large eyeballs measuring us up but not seeming irritated or intimidated.<br />
.<br />
It was hard (especially looking from the car window) to take in the reality of it all rather than still imagining it was a TV program. I also felt deeply sad that it’s only a mat
    GD002258.jpg
  • GD001661.jpg
  • A fleeting burst of light during an overcast, mizzly day in the Welsh mountains.  The light glowed briefly over Llyn Peris before skipping at speed over the levels of the disused Dinorwic slate quarries and then disappearing altogether.<br />
<br />
It’s strange studying these old industrial workings, where men blasted away half a mountainside around half a century ago, but then seeing so many people using the quarried levels for climbing, walking, mountain biking and general sight-seeing. In a way it’s a really positive thing that so much fun has come out of so much destruction, and hardship for the quarrymen of old.
    GD002339.jpg
  • Within the expanse of hot white sand which stretched for miles here on the Skeleton Coast, a wonderful bubbling of hard-rock granite baked in the midday sun. Small weakneses in the rock had become fissues, divinding the stone hillock into strange and beautiful sculpted landscape. <br />
<br />
I tried walking on the exposed surface barefoot, to experience the textures and shape but my feet melted! The cold Atlantic Ocean in the distance had no cooling effect on this parched earth
    GD002270.jpg
  • Walking in the baking heat of the desert landscape in Northern Fuerteventura, my mouth was dry, my skin burned, the air seemed to suck moisture direct from my lungs. The wind whipped sand across my legs and every step in the soft sand was an effort in the middy sunshine. <br />
<br />
At the back of a beach these would be no more than fun dunes but even in this very small piece of landscape, the distant hills seemed even further away than I’d imagined, and each sandy hill was a mountain that defeated uphill progress. I found a drinks can, so beaten by the ultraviolet radiation and intense conditions that it was completely devoid of its original colours and was breaking down in structure. <br />
<br />
And yet, despite the extreme sensations I was experiencing, there was a beauty in the hostile environment, a delicate aesthetic that lures you in to its heart; unspoiled virginal white sand sculpted by nature into wonderful curvaceous shapes. <br />
<br />
Every time I revisit this island I am drawn back to this mini desert, but it has left me with a thirst to experience more vast and impressive deserts. Is it that the shifting surfaces and the labyrinthine of changing landscape features makes these places more magical, or surreal? It may be that we are visiting Namibia in 2018 so my curiosity and hunger for these places may be sated.
    GD001443.jpg
  • A wild windswept beach at Cinsta on the Indian Ocean, at the Eastern Cape of South Africa. On the sand were hundreds of holes in the sand, and a moment or so after walking past them, dozens and dozens of fast moving crabs emerged from them and scuttled across the beach. <br />
<br />
I found this huge wooden log embedded in the soft sand and was taken by it’s figurative, animal-like form.
    GD002352.jpg
  • I’ve seen elephants in zoos, restricted, moving around in circles, stared at by the thousands of noisy visitors - such a desperate form of existence. In the 111 year old and 22,270 km² Etosha National Park in North West Namibia however, I was for the first time able to see these truly magnificent creatures in their natural habitat. Watching David Attenborough programs is always a delight but nothing prepares you for the sheer awe of seeing these animals in real life in their own world.<br />
<br />
From the heavily corrugated dust track, the first thing I saw was what looked like a huge rounded boulder beyond a hillock, but as we drove to the crest of the mound we realised it was in fact the head of a huge African elephant standing at a waterhole! This was real & I’ve never felt so small or humbled by wildlife. There are strict instructions never to leave your vehicle whilst in the park so I had to accept that looking out of the window was the best I was going to get.<br />
<br />
Around us herds of Zebra were drinking, running and frolicking with each other. Springbok daintily skipped past & Oryx and Giraffe were there too. Hundreds of birds flitted about & falcons & other birds of prey circled overhead. It was a visual tapestry of wildlife with so many species all measuring each other up and acknowledging the hierarchies at the hole. What struck me most was the grace of motion of the elephants. Every movement of foot or trunk was slow, fluid & purposeful. At times they were just like living statues, almost motionless, just studying the world about them, and at other times when walking, able to cover big distances so quickly but so gently. I was aware that they were aware of us, large eyeballs measuring us up but not seeming irritated or intimidated.<br />
<br />
It was hard (especially from the car window) to take in the reality of it all rather than still imagining it was a TV program. I also felt deeply sad that it’s only a matter of time before wild elephants are hunted to extinction.
    GD002257.jpg
  • Beautiful old buildings in the unspoilt old town of Ciutadella (once the capital town) of the Balearic island of Menorca. Narrow streets, tall buildings, small windows and many shutters are characteristic features of these streets.
    GD001897.jpg
  • This was my first trip to South Africa and I was blown away, almost literally, by this vast and exposed Western Cape, with the famous Table Mountain dominating the distant horizon. The white sand was warm but the strong South Westerly wind was actually chilly. It formed ripples across the surface of the soft dunes here at Duynefontein. I’d heard so many horror stories before visiting Africa, about being mugged at gunpoint, bitten by snakes or stung by scorpions that I was super nervous for months beforehand. I can’t say my fears disappeared completely, but walking barefoot on the sands in this incredible landscape on my first evening, made me realise that it’s a very big planet, and that with your wits about you, you could actually thoroughly enjoy a new world nevertheless. We are returning to Africa but this time with a lot less nerves and a lot more wisdom about what to expect and what not to do. It is without doubt a captivating country even if you have to be constantly aware.
    GD002132.jpg
  • Christmas Day 2011 - instead of pigging out on Christmas dinners and excesses of booze, I did a two hour cliff walk on North Anglesey, and battled with massive buffeting gusts of wind blowing off the Irish Sea, and sea spray sweeping over the headlands. I found a partly sheltered cove in which to eat cheese sarnies and a mince pie, washed down with hot coffee. Amazingly the rain held off for the whole walk which was fortunate but I also saw some of the only glimpses of sunshine in North Wales that day, which backlit the huge seas crashing against the Anglesey cliffs.
    GD001361.jpg
  • Christmas Day 2011 - instead of pigging out on Christmas dinners and excesses of booze, I did a two hour cliff walk on North Anglesey, and battled with massive buffeting gusts of wind blowing off the Irish Sea, and sea spray sweeping over the headlands. I found a partly sheltered cove in which to eat cheese sarnies and a mince pie, washed down with hot coffee. Amazingly the rain held off for the whole walk which was fortunate but I also saw some of the only glimpses of sunshine in North Wales that day, which backlit the huge seas crashing against the Anglesey cliffs.
    GD001362.jpg
  • I’d made a mistake today. I’d been to the coast for a walk and I was excited by the dark skies over the mainland and the sunshine over the sea. I completed a sunny walk but I didn’t take one pic as nothing tickled my photo fancy. The sun started to disappear as it often does, behind a huge bank of cloud over the horizon, so I decided to drive home to see my good lady. As I drove, the light became more and more intense and in the rear view mirror a huge ball of fire burned through the vapour and then it started to rain heavily. A massive full rainbow blazed across the dark sky ahead of me and by the time I found a place to stop, it was already disappearing but I did grab this one shot from the roadside, just for the memory!
    GD002562.jpg
  • After weeks of lockdown in South Africa, where we were not even allowed to leave the front gate except to get food, it has been a mental overdose of freedom to do something as simple as a little walk around our local town. We are luckier than some, in that at least we have the Menai Strait nearby, and fields to walk through. It’s liberating and uplifting and what I took for granted in the past now seems mesmerisingly beautiful, even when the light wasn’t perfect like today. Freedom is everything, and anyone who thinks prison is easy because they have TV and a pool table, clearly haven’t been self isolating properly, let alone experienced proper lockdown even in their own homes. No matter how big your TV or how many films you have to watch or books you have to read, when you are told you can't leave your from gate your own home becomes a prison and there suddenly becomes a desperate need to get outside! Prison is a mental killer
    GD002447.jpg
  • A Boxing day walk, alone, in the weather and the howling winds. Amazing, elemental, the antithesis to Christmas, natural, wild, empty, unpackaged. I stood three times in the middle of a semi-drowned estuary, sheltering behind my huge (braced) umbrella whilst squalls pounded the nylon and winds flipped the edges of the material like a machine gun. So noisy was the wind that it was hard to tell whether the rain had stopped! I headed for the dunes and a brief few moments of sunshine trying to break through the cloud cover, but soon it was dark, and I had to meander my way back across the dunes to the car park, tripping frequently over rabbit holes and clumps of thick grass.
    GD001359.jpg
  • It is said that the distinctive breast-shaped hillside of Mynydd Carnguwch is sometimes aptly referred to as Bron y Ferch (The Girl’s Breast). It was over these hillsides, years ago, that men from the village would have had to walk for many miles to fetch supplies from the nearest towns, bringing everything back by hand.
    GD000803.jpg
  • A very wet walk on Anglesey's West Coast, so wet that for the first time ever I carried an umbrela with me to cover the camera. It was very useful without a doubt. This was the first time this year when I felt the cold and resorted to wearing gloves to carry the tripod!  © Glyn Davies - All rights reserved. Blog post about this image will appear here: http://www.glynsblog.com
    GD000986.jpg
  • A sunlit Spring walk through the Newborough Forest towards the beautiful and dramatic island of Llanddwyn.
    GD000881.jpg
  • A short walk yesterday evening to catch the last of the light, whilst trying to avoid rain showers. The wind was strong and chilling but the colours behind the rainstorm were wonderfully warm.
    GD002442.jpg
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