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  • Wind blown Marram grass catches the last of the sunlight as the weather changes and a gale advances over the Irish Sea here at Porth Tyn Tywyn, Rhosneigr, Anglesey, Wales.
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  • A small area of tall reeds in an expanse of marshland gets the full brunt of the wind, the direction highlighted by bent shaped stems in the foreground, whilst the clouds race over from West to East.
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  • Wind formed shapes in the Llanddwyn sand dunes, with crepuscular rays in the skies behind. <br />
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A lone walk on a beautiful winters day, from Newborough to Abermenai to relook for Beautiful Silent Danger! It would be nice to say it was just the sound of birdsong and trickling water but an enless drone of planes and unadventurous circling microlights shattered an otherwise magical escape.
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  • Bright sunshine reveals circular wind formed shapes in the Llanddwyn sand dunes, with sunlit clouds above, and the Llyn Peninsula on the mainland in the far distance.
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  • Strong wind blowing the Marram grasses on these large sand dunes at Aberffraw, West Anglesey. The private Bodorgan Estate can be seen to the left, with the mountains of the Llyn Peninsula on mainland Wales can be seen in the background. Waves push at the shoreline and the wind creates sea spray off those breaking waves.
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  • Nominated in 10th (2017) International Colour Awards (Nature category) <br />
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"This is from a series I was working on, looking at the amazing shapes created by the force of the wind. Here at Llanddwyn where the dunes face the endless breeze from the Irish Sea, spectacular circular shapes can be found carved into the sandy hills. The light is characteristic of this area, with dark clouds over the mountains and occasional brilliant sunshine bouncing off the surface of the sea. It’s wild and elemental but always captivating”
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  • I sat above the vast bowl of Cwm Marchlyn just staring at the dark water in the reservoir below. Random gusts from a stiff breeze punched the surface of the lake creating the most wonderful and mesmerising abstract movies. It was impossible to tell where the next impact flower would appear. I was lost in the performance as the wind sang to me through the rocks I was crouched amongst.
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  • The low stunted bush obviously betrays the powerful and ever present prevailing winds from the Irish Sea. In fact the whole land on which this tree sits is a mass of once shifting sand dune, slowly and tenaciously reclaimed by grasses, mosses and finally plant life.
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  • Heavy rain showers and icy winds blow across Llanddwyn Island towards Llanddwyn Beach and the Anglesey mainland. The water surface in the sand pools shows the effects of the wind by the ripples on the surface.
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  • Shot whilst being filmed for a French TV channel. I took the crew to Newborough where we discussed my 'Wind Formed' series, looking at the shapes and patterns within the sand caused by effects of the wind. This series started in about 2006. It was almost impossible to create anything worthwhile when a crew requests where to stand and where to look and when to chat but I was happy enough with this grab shot for them to use it within the feature.
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  • Brilliant sunshine and gale force winds made for an incredible light over the cove of Porth Trecastell.<br />
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As I stood on the cliff top and looked towards the horizon, I had the illusion of low flying over the long wind-blown Marram Grass and the sand of the cove beyond. <br />
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I felt uplifted in so many ways. This was a place I’ve swam and surfed and taken the kids swimming. My life is racing on at such a pace, history left in my wake and yet, the place remains fundamentally unchanged, and will create many more memories for so many more people in the future after my own lights have dimmed. A very special place.
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  • Wind formed shapes in the Llanddwyn sand dunes, with crepuscular rays in the skies behind.
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  • Gentle patterns of wind blown ripples, delicate peninsulas of sand and fast moving sheets of cloud with the unmistakeable Llyn Peninsula and it’s classic peaks.
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  • Wind blown rushes behind the beach at Aberffraw at West Anglesey, Wales
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  • Wind blown sand ripples at the mouth of the Malltraeth Estuary where it joins the Irish Sea at Llanddwyn Beach
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  • Bright red bench atthe end of the pier in Beaumaris, Anglesey, with stormy winter weather over the Welsh mountains of Snowdonia and tje wind swept Menai Strait in the middle & far distance. The pier has been altered since this image to take a floating pontoon
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  • This really is the season of storms and gales. After days of torrential rain, fingers of sunshine searched through layers of cloud trying to make a clearing. I grabbed the opportunity after work today to see if I could catch any of this dramatic light. At the coast the light had already subdued but the wind remained extremely breezy. I carried just one camera and one lens and left the tripod in the van. I had literally just 10 minutes of tantalising sunset before dusk drew a darkening curtain across the windswept stage
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  • Wind blown rushes behind the beach at Aberffraw at West Anglesey, Wales
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  • Patterns caused by wind blowing different weight sands across the vast wind swept beach of Morfa Dyffryn near Barmouth, Mid Wales. <br />
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We turned North and immediately felt the full brunt of the Northerly gale in our faces. Progress was not difficult but was definitely slow. The wind was so strong that sheets of sand were lifted off the beach and blown towards us like swirling fog around our feet. A dog in the distance jumps for a stick and travels 20 feet before landing ! It sorted "men from the boys" as they say, and I noticed a few beach visitors start in this direction then turn back very quickly, but Carol and I were on a mission to get to the far point and the estuary beyond, and it was maybe two miles of beach walk against this headwind. I was blown away [pun intended] by the patterns and tones caused by the sheets of wind-driven sand over the shore, it really was like looking down at the earth whilst flying through low cloud but anything taller than one foot or so remained clear and static, betraying the impression!
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  • I could see this Tor from miles away, in every direction! It loomed, dark and strange, like a battleship on the horzon. As I got closer, it really was isolated from everything else. Only masses of wind blown grass, tangled brush wood, and hidden holes prevented access. It was a very spritual place for me, and finally climbing to it's dark, slightly green top, I felt privileged to be there, surveying the surrounding lands right down to the Atlantic.
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  • Even as I stood under my huge brolly, with the rain lashing at my back, the wind eddied rain drops onto my lens regardless. This is one of the most popular bucket & spade beaches on Ynys Môn hence my usually giving it an extremely wide berth, but today, even without continued lockdown, the rain kept most people away. I actually loved the view; I loved the minimalist simplicity of it all; the vast stretch of water, the ship in the distance waiting for pilotage to Liverpool; the gusts of wind ruffling the surface of the Irish Sea, and the misty distant island headlands. For the first time in years, I felt connected to this beach, a place I could relate to and allow my mind to wander in. In the silent downpour I felt peace.
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  • Wind blows through soft rushes surrounding isolated bare trees at the lakeside of Llyn Gwynant glacial lake in the wide valley of Nant Gwynant in the heart of Snowdonia, Wales. The lower foothills of Wales' highest mountain, Yr Wyddfa (Snowdon) can be seen on the far side of the lake.
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  • White bunting adorned every street, and the tiny white flags buzzed in the strong Atlantic breeze blowing over the Canary Islands. In the hot streets the cooling effect of the wind was extremely welcome
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  • Strong winds and inclement weather sweep over the huge sand dunes at Llanddwyn, Anglesey. The sunset provided bursts of sunshine over this Marram Grass strewn landscape.
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  • Strong winds and inclement weather sweep over the huge sand dunes at Llanddwyn, Anglesey. The sunset provided bursts of sunshine over this Marram Grass strewn landscape.
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  • Huge cumulonimbus clouds catch the evening sunset above wind-blown Marram grass covering sand dunes at Llanddwyn Beach, West Anglesey
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  • Boat wreck in wintry, showery weather and high winds, at low tide at Cymyran beach near RAF Valley, West Anglesey.
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  • Winter winds blew across the beach; small ripples radiated across the wide sand sea water pools and clouds raced overhead. Such beauty, such awe and such contrast. As I stood and watched the sunset play before me, cold air crept down my neck and I realised just how easy it is to be fooled by beauty.
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  • 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.
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  • Rough surf from the Irish Sea in stormy weather forces it's way into the narrow cove of Porth Trecastell (Cable Bay) West Anglesey, Wales. On the windswept headland, Sea Pink (Thrift) blows amongst long grass covering the burial mound of Barclodiad Y Gawres,
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  • With just an hour or so to spare after a dreary day on Anglesey, I headed for the coast just for the heck of it, one of my usual haunts simply because it's vast, open and easy escapism. Having enjoyed some contemplative observation in the gentle gloom, I became aware that the ambient light had increased.  When I turned around the dunes were on fire, a blazing torch of orange light was burning over the Irish Sea and the the sky was fluxing from blue to pink. The fresh salty air was now blowing in my face and I felt liberated and ecstatic, for I also knew this momentary pleasure would be over in a flash.
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  • A dense reed bed behind the beach at Llugwy, East Anglesey, at dusk
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  • It was a day of mixed weather; brilliant sunshine then violent hail showers, but even when things seemed at their darkest, the burning sunshine was always just behind. The whole scene was visual metaphor for things in my life at that moment.
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  • South Stack lighthouse, Holy Island, Anglesey, Ynys Môn. c1809 - Electrified in 1938 - Automated in 1984. 440 steps lead from the 200ft cliff top down to the bridge across the gorge below. We can also see here the RSPB Bird watching tower called Ellin's Tower.
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  • South Stack lighthouse, Holy Island, Anglesey, Ynys Môn. c1809 - Electrified in 1938 - Automated in 1984. 440 steps lead from the 200ft cliff top down to the bridge across the gorge below. We can also see here the RSPB Bird watching tower called Ellin's Tower.
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  • Colourful sunset reflected on wet beach, pools and the sea itself, at the coast at Rhosneigr, West Anglesey, Wales
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  • A gentle breeze searched through the undergrowth for me, the ancient burial mound beyond the hill had witnessed me, I had walked in my ancestors footprints. Even as I tried to leave the place I was being watched.
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  • Rare snow on a shingle beach near Penmon village, East Anglesey, looking across the Menai Strait towards the snowcapped mountains of Snowdonia in the background
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  • Stormy conditions at this usually calm, beautiful, summer beach, acres of sand under clear waters, usually!
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  • As Storm Imogen makes her first appearance, and dark clouds build on the the horizon, I find myself fascinated by the sheer variety of beautiful coloured stones lying just beneath the surface of the sand pools before an incoming tide. The weather created dreary conditions but every so often gentle glimmers of light illuminated this wet world, a world that has seen rain for almost three months solid. It was so lovely to find such intriguing beauty in such inclement weather
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  • Windswept Broad Beach at Rhosneigr, West Anglesey, Wales, in a gale and rainy weather at sunset..
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  • Rough seas from stormy weather crash against the cliffs at the headland of Porth Trecastell (Cable Bay) West Anglesey, Wales. Sea Pink (Thrift) blows amongst thr rocky cliff top as surf crashes into the cove below.
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  • Barmouth Beach, looking North towards the Llyn Peninsula
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  • It’s that time of year, and although I thoroughly dislike short days, darkness, rain and gloom, Autumn is also the season of warm water, warm gales, warm sunshine and incredible drama. If we could arrange to keep winter for just a month or so, I’d be very happy, but I’m trying to enjoy the most of the last vestiges of what was summer.
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  • It's very hard for me to tell whether this is Wheat or the very similar Barley, but what fascinated me about this lush scene, even in the drab weather, was the subtle difference shift between the greener ears in the middle distance and the yellower ears all around. Everything was blowing quickly in the strong North Westerly breeze but somehow the greener stems seemed stronger, more static and stood apart in the crowd, so similar, yet so different..
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  • A tallship passes Crosby Beach into the Irish Sea, after leaving Liverpool on the river Mersey.
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  • Evening sunlight catching the Cornish flag at the stern of the St Mawes Ferry having crossed the Carric Roads in windy wet weather, forming a rainbow of the St Just in Roseland headland. A sailing yacht makes it's way out past Falmouth Docks into Falmouth Bay.
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  • No matter how difficult life seems to be, no matter how tenuous our grip on it, we have the potential to survive most things, to grow amongst darkness and to retain a beauty and importance no matter how delicate that may be. This tree is growing on exposed barren land, with nothing but sand and a thin layer of soil beneath, but it survives all nature throws at it.
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  • The Sprig air was warm and a Westerly breeze blew in from the Irish Sea into this small lush valley. The reeds and grasses swayed heavily towards me creating a whispering sound over the gurgle of the brook beneath.
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  • The morning sunshine burned through the cool March air and for a moment it appeared as if summer. <br />
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Nestling into the back of this peaceful cove are the Victorian silica brickworks of Porth Wen. Today the silence was only broken by the call of Oystercatcher and the twitter of sparrows in the hedges behind me,  so different to the noise of the industry here before 1949. I’m always fascinated by the way nature gradually reclaims man’s footprints, but in the meantime I enjoy a glimpse at history, and the chance to imagine what once was.
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  • A container ship passes Crosby Beach into the Irish Sea, after leaving Liverpool on the river Mersey.  Two sculptures by the artist Sir Antony Mark David Gormley, OBE look on, positined as they are for his landscape artwork, "Another Place"
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  • A couple walking their dog in early summer heat at Crosby Beach, Liverpool.
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  • Welsh mountain sheep pens lie desolate in the bitter winds and snow and there was silence all around save for the wind through the cold stone walls. In the summer there is no such solitude, and the sounds of the sheep return with the sounds of walkers.
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  • 710 square kilometres of incredible white gypsum, that in the evening light pouring over the San Andreas Mountains turned vivid hues of pink & purple. Gentle ripples formed in the sand where this damp and binding mineral has been blown by regular strong winds. <br />
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To the North, almost 60% of these white sand gypsum dunes are still used for military weapons and missile testing - the first Fat Man plutonium bomb was tested in the Northern dunes.  <br />
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And yet, there was such a quietness there, calm and even solitude when you walked a little further into the dunes. We did two visits to this National Monument, and honestly, I could have spent many MANY more days in the minimalist nothingness.
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  • Life grows in the graveyard at Aberdaron. The graves all face out to the Irish Sea, the prevailing winds and the sunsets. If spirits really do exist, than I can think of no finer place to rest, a harbour where many pilgrims have rested on their way to the final destination, the small Celtic Island of Ynys Enlli.
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  • The most incredible sunset over the industrial relics of the Dinorwic slate quarries in Snowdonia. It was so peaceful up there, absolute silence as I studied the clouds gently mutating in the rich sunset over Yr Wyddfa, Wales’ highest mountain.
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  • The days are drawing in and the comforting warmth and brilliant light of summer is gradually being replaced with gales and rain. <br />
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The girl from the forest heads towards the light and pushes through the last trees, finding herself at the shore of a great lake.  The contrast between the stillness and relative silence of the trees is in stark contrast to the heavy weather fetching at speed across the water’s surface. It takes her by surprise, buffeting her tiny figure and she holds onto low branches for support. <br />
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Her hair blows wildly behind her in the wind and she is acutely aware of the rushes caressing her legs and spray from the waves pinpricking her naked flesh, but she revels in these sensations. Her senses are heightened and the place and the moment are a catalyst for her thoughts about her existence and a reminder that the cycle of the seasons is unavoidable and that nature is everything.
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  • 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.
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  • A large and constant river flows from open farmland on Anglesey, past Aberffraw village and out to the sea at the expansive and sandy Aberffraw beach. The wind blowing up the beach creates small standing waves in the river as it rushes against the wind.
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  • 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.
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  • 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.
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  • We decided to ignore the warnings not to drive during Storm Ciara, and headed for the sea. The narrow coastal roads were covered in seaweed and pebbles but high up above the cliffs of South Stack we only had the gale force winds to contend with. I left Jani warm in the van and fought my way down to the cliff edge, thankfully the wind blew me onshore not off! On arrival the skies were dark and gloomy but as I set up the tripod, sunlight burst through a break in the clouds and illuminated the short grasses clinging to the siltstone & quartzite rocks around me. <br />
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I had to lean hard onto the tripod just to try and keep the camera still enough to make the shot. Even then I decided on a higher ISO for safety. Almost as soon as the sun warmed my wind-blown face, it disappeared and I was blown uphill back to the van!
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  • This was taken during a two hour outing to Anglesey's West Coast one Sundaty afternoon during serious gales and stormy weather. The seas were huge for Anglesey and were breaking over the clifs, the strong winds sending plumes of spray into the air and dousing the land with salty foam. As the sun dropped in the sky, the light became more and more intense until it created a theatrical floodlight, backlighting the spray from the crashing waves. The wind was blowing so hard I had to almost sit on the tripod to keep it steady and the lens needed wiping down every few seconds. It was fantastic to ne in these conditions alone on the cliff top because it generated an enormous sense of scale and vulnerability whilst perched there. At this time of year, when the sun setsm, the light diminishes rapidly so I had to tread careful over the wet cliff tops to get back to the van. It was an invigorating evening.
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  • Available as 3 x A1 and 5 x A2 Limited editions plus unlimited smaller sizes A3 and A4
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  • I do love silence, well, silence from human noise at least. This evening was so quiet that I could hear the almost imperceptible sound of the rising tide creeping up the shoreline, spilling into tiny ripples in the sand banks and flooding into small sand pools. As often here on the Afon Menai, I could hear the isolated sounds of two waders, a solitary Oystercatcher flitting over the surface of the strait, and a Curlew feeding on the rapidly disappearing shoreline.<br />
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It was yet another dull summer day, wind, rain and eventually a heavy, deadening mizzle, and yet there was also a delicate beauty about the subtly changing scene. The grey sky-blanket wasn't really solid, but an ever-morphing backdrop of monochromatic tones, more like a vaporous dance of silks on a washing line.<br />
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Once again I sheltered under a huge brolly, a dark, warm cove of protection from the elements racing in from the open sea to the West. The landscape became a view, separated from me until I lowered the brolly and felt the full effect of wind-blown rain on my face, smacking me back to reality. It was hard to believe such a pastel scene could exist within the wintry elements all about.
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  • For such a brief opportunity to get to the coast this evening, the conditions certainly delivered and I was blessed with solitude as well. <br />
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As the sun dropped, giving way to a magenta dusk, I suddenly became aware of a brightening half moon over Snowdonia. The darker became dusk the more brilliant appeared the moon and it shimmered on the retreating tide. What really made this image work for me were the gentle curves of small waves pushing over a sand bank. As in my image “Wind Formed 4”, this was perfect geometry in nature, and I was utterly captivated and found it very hard to leave.
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  • August, the holidays in full swing. The sun is clear in the sky and the sand is warm. I walk barefoot through deep pools on the beach and it’s like standing in a bath. What you can’t see from the photo is the gale force winds (literally) which created a wind chill factor that necessitated three lightweight jackets to be worn. My legs in the sand pools were warmer in the water than out.
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  • 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.
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  • Successive storm waves during bad, gale driven weather, create piles of wind blown foam on the incoming tide at sunset in Winter at this West Anglesey beach near Rhosneigr
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  • 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.
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  • Nominated in 10th (2017) International Colour Awards (Fine Art category) <br />
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Caught in squally weather, bitterly cold, blown about like a leaf in the wind, at the mercy of the elements and the huge expanse of the open sea - no, not a lonely sailing boat but me, clinging to the cliffs to try and get a shot at that magical moment, when man made and ambient light balance, that perfect window of opportunity which lasts just minutes. I love the softness of colours and contrasts in the gale driven sky behind, and the hint of comfort from the haunted lighthouse. I thought this was a joke until tonight, when as I was taking my last frame something pushed past me, really squeezing past my thigh. I honestly thought it was a dog but there was nothing there. Quite spooked.<br />
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South Stack lighthouse, Holy Island, Anglesey, Ynys Môn. c1809 - Electrified in 1938 - Automated in 1984. 440 steps lead from the 200ft cliff top down to the bridge across the gorge below. We can also see here the RSPB Bird watching tower called Ellin's Tower.
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  • 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.
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  • I arrived at the beach at the very last minute, after a long day in the gallery and a desperate need for fresh air. The sunshine on the trees and hedgerows as I swept by in my van was an intoxicating promise of things to come but even as I neared the coast I could see a band of broken cloud on the horizon and a chance of broken promises.<br />
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I took a couple of frames from the sand dunes before  jogging down to the water’s edge where huge sand pools had formed. There wasn’t a drop of wind and the water surface was like a mirror. I managed about 3 subtly different frames before the sun dropped behind a layer of dark cloud and the intensity had gone for the night. <br />
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I count myself lucky nevertheless
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  • An extreme low tide revealed sections of sand bars I'd never seen before and at this distance even the dog walkers hadn't managed to destroy the purity of the sand sculptures. The sea was almost silent, the sun warm but the wind cold. I was the only one for miles on this end of the beach and I walked home alone.
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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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  • Biggest waves I've ever seen at Porth Tyn Tywyn. Went to go surfing, took one look at waves and decided to shoot the waves instead :-) <br />
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The biggest waves I've personally ever seen at Porth Tyn Tywyn and I have walked, swam and surfed there many 100s of times over the last 20 years.<br />
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On this particular morning I had gone there with the idea of body boarding what was reported to be a brilliant swell for Anglesey. The day was clear with a strong offshore wind and just a few rapidly clouds. I parked up overlooking the dunes and the sea beyond and I could already see wave tips higher than the dunes (foreshortened perspective of course) and I knew it was going off! I walked down to the reef and two surfers were being thrown about in the white water before finally getting out to the back where a strong rip was pushing them Southwards towards the bay of the burial mound, Barclodiad y Gawres. It was funny in a way watching these guys go for the surf but spend so much time just trying to keep parallel to the shore. At this point, I just knew that I was not going in! I have not body-boarded seriously for years and having had a bit of an epic attempt at Sennen in Cornwall in January in big seas it was all too intimidating for this surf-unfit body !<br />
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Of course the upside to that decision is that I could guilt-freely enjoy taking pictures of the surf instead and it was just so beautiful and powerful to watch. Thankfully the offshore breeze was keeping most of the sea-spray off my lens for a change meaning that I could continue to shoot without minute-apart lens cleans. <br />
<br />
The light on the sea in the bay was sharp and intense, and the lips of the waves were backlit and sparkling against the darker sky in the background. I enjoyed studying the bands of light and dark as they created monochrome Rothko seas, large ocean canvases of abstract landscape. After an hour or more of outgoing tide, the waves noticeably reduced in height to the point where perhaps I could have gone in, but wi
    GD001720.jpg
  • 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
    GD001712.jpg
  • Caught in squally weather, bitterly cold, blown about like a leaf in the wind, at the mercy of the elements and the huge expanse of the open sea - no, not a lonely sailing boat but me, clinging to the cliffs to try and get a shot at that magical moment, when man made and ambient light balance, that perfect window of opportunity which lasts just minutes. I love the softness of colours and contrasts in the gale driven sky behind, and the hint of comfort from the haunted lighthouse. I thought this was a joke until tonight, when as I was taking my last frame something pushed past me, really squeezing past my thigh. I honestly thought it was a dog but there was nothing there. Quite spooked.<br />
<br />
South Stack lighthouse, Holy Island, Anglesey, Ynys Môn. c1809 - Electrified in 1938 - Automated in 1984. 440 steps lead from the 200ft cliff top down to the bridge across the gorge below. We can also see here the RSPB Bird watching tower called Ellin's Tower.
    GD001065.jpg
  • Although no longer a bird-watcher, it was amazing the number of gulls, ducks and waders which could be seen sheltering on the Malltraeth Estuary. The wind was strong and bitter, even in low afternoon sunlight but the place seems like a haven for everyone and everything on it. The mountains in the background give you some idea of the contrast between the low lying lands of Anglesey and the height of the Cambrian Ranges in the far distance.
    GD000359.jpg
  • Another of those awful, dreary, wet grey days with hours and hours of rain, then suddenly at the end of the day, a gentle orange glow built on the horizon, a sign of magic for distant strangers.  We stuck it in a high gear and made for the brightening sky, sunshine gradually warming the interior of the van through the salt-smeared windscreen. <br />
<br />
On arrival, the wind was really strong and the sand was lifting and blowing across the beach. I headed for the shoreline where the breeze tried to do the same with sheet water. The sand was soaking and it reflected the scudding painted clouds on its surface. This was  another of my open-air theatre moments were scenes were changing by the second. I watched it until my feet sank and the sun disappeared, leaving nothing but happiness in the dark.
    GD002533.jpg
  • The sun had long set, but in the gathering dusk the subtle hues still looked beautiful. There was barely a breath of wind and only the gentlest of soft ripples radiated across this false bay. A young couple slowly and quietly beached a canoe on a distant pebble bank, two micro figures in a vast watercolour landscape.
    GD002502.jpg
  • Last day of Menai Strait regatta 2017. Beaumaris courses. These images were taken whilst being filmed for the new ITV Wales sries, 'The Strait' to be broadcast in Januray 2018.<br />
<br />
Slam Media / Cread Cyf production for ITV Wales 2017
    GD002213.jpg
  • After weeks of appalling weather, wind and rain, it was such a relief to have a dry-ish day. We headed for the coast and literally just caught the last moments of a giant hole in the clouds where we glimpsed the blue sky above. A gentle shimmering of sunlight reflected off the calm sea, but it was like the eye of a storm as banks of deeper grey cloud moved in from the West and the rain started all over again.
    GD002564.jpg
  • These black, shiny, eroded and smoothed pillow lavas watch the endless earth cycle. The sands shift and shunt and move about endlessly and the wind ruffles surfaces. The sun bakes and the waves smash but still these ancient rocks just take it all in their stride, hardly changing over millennia.
    GD001118.jpg
  • Wintry weather in Summer. The air was warm but the strong wind was cold. The pandemic has left popular beaches near deserted. Today just three other couples along the two mile stretch of shoreline. Sad though it is for so many loyal Anglesey visitors, I have to admit that having beaches to yourself, especially as a landscape photographer, is a rare treat, a treat that may never be repeated in my lifeline, so I relish every moment. <br />
<br />
In the emptiness so much else was happening though, all centred around the movement of sea and clouds and the rapid changes of light across shifting surfaces. The intensity of contrast between moody skies and brilliant sparkling wet sand, was just mesmerising, hard to pull away your eyes let alone move your feet.  There is so much to see in such emptiness, but then I think I’ve always felt that; that sometimes the emptiness itself helps to focus the eye on the smallest of changes and differences.
    GD002496.jpg
  • Tonight I was accompanied by a daft crow. As I walked at high speed to catch an unexpected last burn of sunshine at Llanddwyn, a large crow on the water’s edge thought that the best way to escape his human companion was to keep flying just ahead of me. As I got closer he’d take off and fly another 20 feet. He did this almost the whole length of the beach until I reached the island, when finally he worked out that flying the opposite way from me meany he was left in peace. I I found myself chuckling as I called him a daft bird under my breath. <br />
<br />
The light on the other side of the island was short lived but intensely beautiful.
    GD002531.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.
    GD002443.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
  • The biggest waves I've personally ever seen at Porth Tyn Tywyn and I have walked, swam and surfed there many 100s of times over the last 20 years.<br />
<br />
On this particular morning I had gone there with the idea of body boarding what was reported to be a brilliant swell for Anglesey. The day was clear with a strong offshore wind and just a few rapidly clouds. I parked up overlooking the dunes and the sea beyond and I could already see wave tips higher than the dunes (foreshortened perspective of course) and I knew it was going off! I walked down to the reef and two surfers were being thrown about in the white water before finally getting out to the back where a strong rip was pushing them Southwards towards the bay of the burial mound, Barclodiad y Gawres. It was funny in a way watching these guys go for the surf but spend so much time just trying to keep parallel to the shore. At this point, I just knew that I was not going in! I have not body-boarded seriously for years and having had a bit of an epic attempt at Sennen in Cornwall in January in big seas it was all too intimidating for this surf-unfit body !<br />
<br />
Of course the upside to that decision is that I could guilt-freely enjoy taking pictures of the surf instead and it was just so beautiful and powerful to watch. Thankfully the offshore breeze was keeping most of the sea-spray off my lens for a change meaning that I could continue to shoot without minute-apart lens cleans. <br />
<br />
The light on the sea in the bay was sharp and intense, and the lips of the waves were backlit and sparkling against the darker sky in the background. I enjoyed studying the bands of light and dark as they created monochrome Rothko seas, large ocean canvases of abstract landscape. After an hour or more of outgoing tide, the waves noticeably reduced in height to the point where perhaps I could have gone in, but with a full CF disc I decided to head for hot coffee back in the gallery instead - wrong decision ? Probably ! :-)
    GD001718.jpg
  • In brilliant sparkling sunshine a single yacht starts furling the jib on approach to the harbour. The sea was warm but the wind cooler than of late, a feeling of Autumn creeping in as Summer seeps away.
    GD002391.jpg
  • Spring Trees in the Gwynant Valley. The wind ws cold from the North but the sun was warm out of the wind.
    GD000931.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
  • 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
    GD001736.jpg
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Glyn Davies, Professional Photographer and Gallery

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