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  • Waves pushing shorewards from the Irish Sea, at Rhosneigr, West Anglesey, at sunset with rich colors in the sky and splashes of water and movement of tide
    GD000892.jpg
  • Waves pushing shorewards from the Irish Sea, at Rhosneigr, West Anglesey, at sunset with rich colors in the sky and splashes of water and movement of tide
    GD000889.jpg
  • And so it was, at about 4.00 pm, I headed for the West Coast of Anglesey, as usual, to catch the dipping sun. I turned up at one of my favourite spots and ambled, totally arbitrarily along the shoreline, enjoying the water, the sounds, the heat and colours of the warm sun and the glistening rocks emerging from the receding tide. Funnily enough, the stark sunshine, at this time of day, at least creates strong shadows, long shadows and sparkling sea tops. As it sank lower the colours intensified further and amazing hues resulted, almost, but not quite unbelievable.
    GD000893.jpg
  • Just before sunset, but in the shadow of the shoreline crags, a powerful repeating surge created an eerie disturbance in what was otherwise a calm sea. Looking out, I could meditate over the tranquillity of the scene, but when I looked down, the water was rising and falling in deep crevices, occasionally rising so high that it covered my boots, but then dropping maybe five feet down slippery slopes into the darkness.
    GD000690.jpg
  • And so it was, at about 4.00 pm, I headed for the West Coast of Anglesey, as usual, to catch the dipping sun. I turned up at one of my favourite spots and ambled, totally arbitrarily along the shoreline, enjoying the water, the sounds, the heat and colours of the warm sun and the glistening rocks emerging from the receding tide. Funnily enough, the stark sunshine, at this time of day, at least creates strong shadows, long shadows and sparkling sea tops. As it sank lower the colours intensified further and amazing hues resulted, almost, but not quite unbelievable.
    GD000895.jpg
  • Waves at Porth Ceiriad near Abersoch, Llyn Peninsula, North Wales.  West Anglesey at dusk. Gentle waves on a long sandy look soft because of motion blur.
    GD001580.jpg
  • Millions of years and perpetual attack. These huge bastions of hard Cornish granite may be smoothed by a process of attrition, but they will never be defeated !
    GD001069.jpg
  • A choppy sea at the craggy coastline at Rhoscolyn with the moon rising over the Welsh mainland.
    GD000824.jpg
  • And so it was, at about 4.00 pm, I headed for the West Coast of Anglesey, as usual, to catch the dipping sun. I turned up at one of my favourite spots and ambled, totally arbitrarily along the shoreline, enjoying the water, the sounds, the heat and colours of the warm sun and the glistening rocks emerging from the receding tide. Funnily enough, the stark sunshine, at this time of day, at least creates strong shadows, long shadows and sparkling sea tops. As it sank lower the colours intensified further and amazing hues resulted, almost, but not quite unbelievable.
    GD000894.jpg
  • GD000682.jpg
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  • GD001089.jpg
  • The beautiful smoothed granite rocks looked like giant pieces of disused bubble gum, soaked and literally glowing in stunning evening sunlight facing the Atlantic Ocean
    GD001070.jpg
  • Sunset over the Brison rocks seen from Porth Nanven, SW Cornwall.
    GD001096.jpg
  • Icy cold water from snow-capped summits, flows down through small but spectacularly sculpted gorges, to the comparatively warm Irish Sea waiting below
    GD002620.jpg
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  • A pink sunset near Rhosneigr, West Anglesey. Gentle waves wrap around rocks just off the sandy beach and look soft because of motion blur.
    GD001333.jpg
  • This may not be the most dramatic of Welsh coasts on South West Anglesey, but the jagged reefs and Westerly waves provide endless variation nevertheless. It still surprises me just how rough the rocks are, after millenia of erosion from the sea
    GD001302.jpg
  • Wind blown rushes behind the beach at Aberffraw at West Anglesey, Wales
    GD001245.jpg
  • 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.
    GD001107.jpg
  • Waves at sunset, crashing into the small rocky cove at south of South Stack on Holy Island, Anglesey, Wales,
    GD000987.jpg
  • A lobster pot is washed ashore by slow powerful waves at sunset at Dinas Dinlle beach near Caernarfon, North Wales.
    GD001628.jpg
  • After a demanding, muddy 7 mile walk along the Cornish coast in mid winter, we finally arrived at our destination of Pra Sands on the South coast of Cornwall. Although dark clouds still encompassed us, a dramatic break in the cover allowed an evening sunset to burst through, turning the world shades of pink and purple. <br />
<br />
By the time we had walked the length of the beach to our van the evening had lost all of it’s colour and the rain arrived.
    GD002126.jpg
  • GD002078.jpg
  • A Monday evening. I'd gone out to catch some surf but it was seriously blown out in some very heavy gales and was just mush, so I took some shots instead :-) The very low evening sunlight was blitzing the coast with an amazing intensity, as powerful in it's own way as the pounding waves. Where the waves were smashing over this set of rocks the plumes of spray were being backlit turning them a rich orange/gold. However, as you can see from the foreground I was basically IN the sea, with no tripod so for the first time in my memory, I have deliberately cropped the original a little to show just the bits I wanted. Theoretically it would have been easier for me to change lens but the sea spray was so intense that I didn't fancy a £5K sensor covered in salt water - so there you go, probably my first ever forced crop! :-((((
    GD000850.jpg
  • Large rockpools in the reef at Rhosneigr at sunset, West Anglesey, Wales.
    GD000821.jpg
  • In the same way as many people enjoy jumping and playing in the waves, I also see the waves as playing their own game, dancing in a regular rhythm across the shoreline and crashing against the cliffs. Waves are consistent and have a pattern but each individual wave is subtly different, with thousands of sparks of water shooting off unpredictably. As a metaphor for mankind, we generally dance to the same tune, but as individuals we may fly off in many different directions. Each separate journey makes the main wave look unique and exciting, but almost inevitably, we finally rejoin the main body of water, perhaps just in a slightly different place!
    GD000734.jpg
  • An ebb tide reveals multi-coloured pillow-lava at Llanddwyn on West Anglesey. Many people have asked if the colours have been retouched in the computer, which they are not.When you are on a beach most pebbles look rather drab, but wet them in the water and they reveal rich vibrant colours. Imagine this on a bigger scale, where a whole reef of mineral rich rock becomes wet from the sea, and you’ll then understand why there was no need to use software to embelish this image
    GD000688.jpg
  • Nominated in 10th (2017) International Colour Awards (Fine Art category) <br />
<br />
Field drainage water pours out through a water channel into the Irish Sea here at Porth Cwyfan. The 13th Century, Eglwys Cwyfan (St Cwyfan's Church), not far from the small village of Aberffraw on Anglesey's West coast, at one time stood on the mainland coast but over the years, the sea has eroded the surrounding land leaving it stranded on it's own little island. Services are still occasionally held here but times are tide dependent.
    GD000820.jpg
  • Cape Cornwall headland near St Just projects into a treacherous stretch of Atlantic Ocean here in South West Cornwall. In the cove to the North of the point, huge granite boulders have been rounded and smoothed over eons and await the powerful waves each high tide.
    GD001948.jpg
  • Cape Cornwall headland near St Just projects into a treacherous stretch of Atlantic Ocean here in South West Cornwall. In the cove to the North of the point, huge granite boulders have been rounded and smoothed over eons and await the powerful waves each high tide.
    GD001947.jpg
  • Snip from blog: "As the light dropped even lower, and I realised my new Petzl head-torch might be used for real for the first time, low level contrasts and longish exposures actually ignited some interest in me, and I even had fun deliberately using my head-torch light on the dark foreground waters. This light was my mark - my signature that I was there, fighting to show my existence in an advancing nothingness. I saw this as a metaphor, in that sometimes there is a necessity to make one's light shine, no matter how incongruous, in the never-ending global story of repetition, emulation and predictability :-)"
    GD000896.jpg
  • Nominated in 2022 International Colour Awards<br />
<br />
Even in this thick sea fog the crash of the waves and the advancing tide is relentless and comforting, confirming a natural order of things, the spin of the earth, the pull of the moon, the winds and the gales blowing their way around the globe. Yet I stand here on the shoreline, in one small microcosm of the rest of the planet, wrapped up in my own thoughts, my own ideas and my own emotions and without doubt my memories. Perhaps the whiteness of the fog even encourages this mental escape, eliminating everything else about me, reducing chaos to minimalist simplicity, lovely!
    GD001075.jpg
  • Subtle moments of brighter light at sunset after a wet, rainy day at Silver Bay, Anglesey. The advancing tide created a powerful backwash of waves.
    GD001201.jpg
  • In the failing light, remnants of the old jetty stand proud against the powerful rise and fall of the sea. The waves and sky did their best to suck everything away from the beach but these small objects cling like limpets to the shoreline.
    GD000782.jpg
  • Loved the textures and patterns created by the advancing waves at Porth Swtan (Church Cove) - the solidity of the hard, isolated boulder acted as a wonderful juxtaposition to the ever changing nature of the sea.
    GD001461.jpg
  • Waves at Rhosneigr, West Anglesey at dusk. Gentle waves on a long sandy look soft because of motion blur.
    GD001283.jpg
  • Colourful sunset reflected on wet beach, pools and the sea itself, at the coast at Rhosneigr, West Anglesey, Wales
    GD000834.jpg
  • International Color Awards 2016 - Nominee in "Nature" category<br />
<br />
Large rockpools in the reef at Rhosneigr at sunset, West Anglesey, Wales.
    GD000819.jpg
  • Brilliant sunshine backlighting gentle waves sweeping over the beach at Silver Bay, near Rhoscolyn, Anglesey.
    GD001196.jpg
  • 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.
    GD001187.jpg
  • Even in this thick sea fog the crash of the waves and the advancing tide is relentless and comforting, confirming a natural order of things, the spin of the earth, the pull of the moon, the winds and the gales blowing their way around the globe. Yet I stand here on the shoreline, in one small microcosm of the rest of the planet, wrapped up in my own thoughts, my own ideas and my own emotions and without doubt my memories. Perhaps the whiteness of the fog even encourages this mental escape, eliminating everything else about me, reducing chaos to minimalist simplicity, lovely!
    GD001074.jpg
  • A Cornish evening - Church Cove<br />
<br />
© Glyn Davies - All Rights Reserved
    GD001067.jpg
  • A piece of driftwood jammed in the sand at Silver Bay, Anglesey get washed by incoming waves in the cove at sunset, during stormy, wet weather.
    GD001202.jpg
  • Huge storm waves exploding with full force on the rocks at Silver Bay near Rhoscolyn.
    GD001199.jpg
  • 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.
    GD001001.jpg
  • 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.
    GD000997.jpg
  • A dense reed bed behind the beach at Llugwy, East Anglesey, at dusk
    GD000058.jpg
  • Fairy Ring of red Amanita muscaria toadstool mushrooms next to the Aber river in the hills up behind the high Rhaeadr Aber waterfall.
    GD001312.jpg
  • 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.
    GD002486.jpg
  • The forecast was for mixed weather but thankfully we never ‘quite’ saw rain. Here on the coast of West Penwith a river tumbles down through the boulders to join the Atlantic Ocean. Brief moments of sunshine illuminated the flowing water and everything sparkled. The clouds closed in, the wind increased and the cold intensified but my mood was as bright and alive as the view I was offered.
    GD002125.jpg
  • This small sound of water at Penmon can be treacherous as a huge volume of tide pulls around this point at each turn of the tide and there is a relatively shallow rocky chanel beneath. The present Penmon lighthouse at 29m tall was erected between 1835 and 1838. It was converted to solar power in 1996 and it's 15,000 candela light can be seen 12 nautical miles away. It also has a fog bell which sounds every thirty seconds.
    GD000727.jpg
  • Nominated in 10th (2017) International Colour Awards (Nature category) <br />
<br />
This small sound of water at Penmon can be treacherous as a huge volume of tide pulls around this point at each turn of the tide and there is a relatively shallow rocky chanel beneath. The present Penmon lighthouse at 29m tall was erected between 1835 and 1838. It was converted to solar power in 1996 and it's 15,000 candela light can be seen 12 nautical miles away. It also has a fog bell which sounds every thirty seconds.
    GD000683.jpg
  • There was nothing set up about this image. The wood was actually there, partially embedded in the soft sands of Silver Bay as the waves washed over it on the incoming tide. In the background a gentle sun illuminated the rear of a heavy blanket of rain cloud, sending a pink glow into the air. The shift between the warm and cool ends of the spectrum were subtle and delicate, absolutely beautiful.
    GD001200.jpg
  • Wind blown rushes behind the beach at Aberffraw at West Anglesey, Wales
    GD001243.jpg
  • Waves on an incoming tide  flow around large granite boulders on the shoreline of the Atlantic Coast at Sennen, West Penwith Cornwall.
    GD001087.jpg
  • Water floods out from fields via a drainage outlet as a half moon rises in the sky above the church of Eglwys Cwyfan in the cove of Porth Cwyfan, West Anglesey, Wales
    GD001116.jpg
  • On my favourite beach, in the subtle dying rays of light on a warm summer's day, on an advancing tide, I walked alone on the shoreline, as a full moon rose over the sand dunes to my left. Unnervingly, there in the sand dunes arose a dark figure to watch me. I couldn't make out any details. As I walked closer he dropped  back into hiding. I was unnerved en route back to the car.
    GD001282.jpg
  • Sunset and clouds over streams and rivulets flowing down the huge sandy beach at low tide at Traeth Harlech, Tremadog Bay, North Wales
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  • Stunningly beautiful sunset, even though the sun actually set behind me, but the colours left behind, washing all over the white foamy sea was awesome...© Glyn Davies - All Rights Reserved
    GD001066.jpg
  • 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.
    GD001188.jpg
  • Selected Print for the IN:SIGHT (Washington Green) New Artists Competition 2015<br />
<br />
International MONO Awards 2014 - Honourable Mention <br />
<br />
"In the beginning there was just rock - and then water - black lifeless water. There were no plants or birds or trees just a planet in waiting.<br />
<br />
Dark water moves from ocean to gully, almost imperceptibly, and a woman takes tentative steps towards the light”
    Movement Above Inky Depths
  • A small flock of birds was the only noticeable movement in this whole scene, where the Cymyran Strait passes through the tiny village of Four Mile Bridge. I've literally never seen it this mirror-calm before, and I was SO awed by it that I screeched to a halt on the far side of the bridge and came back to photograph this amazing view. I got chatting to Janet, a retired surgical nurse who lives just a few hundred feet away from this, as she also stood mesmerised by the view. She said she'd been living there for many years and like me, had never seen it just SO perfectly calm, where usually the movement of the tide at least creates some currents and ripples.
    GD002909.jpg
  • Though the sea never looked tumultuous and the swell height was rarely over two foot, the power of the explosion as the swell hit the rocks continued to surprise me. The stored energy in the waves was suddenly released on obstructions, rather than dissipated across long shallow beaches. In this shot, I love the way the wave appears to blend with the cliff and rise up to the cliff top. I always enjoy being on the beach after being in the mountains. I need to see the movement of the waves and hear their crash on the shore. Landscape always seems so much more vibrant on the coast.
    GD000789.jpg
  • Coastguard cottages in gentle morning sunlight passing through thick fog at Trwyn Du. These houses are so grand for such a remote and exposed spot. A blackbird hopping along the wall was the only movement in this gentle Spring stillness and it's song the only sound balancing the melancholy 'dong' of the lighthouse bell.
    GD002303.jpg
  • One minute the summit of Elidir Fawr was bathed in early Spring sunshine and the next the sky had darkened and freezing vapour engulfed us. However the rapidly swirling clouds formed the most beautiful shapes and the semi obscured sun created a backlit stage of theatrical movement as we drank hot coffee to keep warm.
    GD002011.jpg
  • Rhuddlan and it's castle have been the site of numerous Welsh English battles in history. The castle was originally mostly built of wood and ships used to moor alongside the jetty. Today, a Royal swan peacefully glides amongst the shadows of the castle's trees and a huge driftwood log is the only wooden movement along this shallow river today.
    GD000486.jpg
  • Selected Print for the IN:SIGHT (Washington Green) New Artists Competition 2015<br />
<br />
Nominee in 10th Annual Black & White Spider Awards<br />
<br />
"The woman stood motionless, or so it seemed, her feet slowly sinking into the sticky black leaf litter below the surface. There was hardly a breeze, no movement, just the occasional chirp from the Summer’s last Swallow, breaking the silence at this mountain lake. But when you look closely, you see ripples oscillating away from the woman’s body, continuing almost imperceptibly across the lake. Her energy, her life force was affecting the landscape in a clearly visible, tangible way, utter connection between our living organic form and the earth we come from.”
    Swallowed by the Lake
  • 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
  • On a glorious evening at the tip of North Wales the lo sunshine backlit clouds of spray from the long lines of surf rolling into the bay. Movement caught the corner of my eye and I watched three sheep scramble up to the top of. steep cliff - just a wonderful liitle moment.
    GD002636.jpg
  • There are some images that really should be video, not stills. I think maybe this is one of them. I like the image but only because of my memory of the event; sheets of sand were lifting in the gale and blowing at high speed towards me. The stream was almost gurgling as it tumbled to meet the sea and a flock of geese were chatting to each other as they dabbled in the pebbly sand pools. There was so much going on and so much to hear that I'm not sure any still image begins to describe the beauty of it all. <br />
<br />
I have a feeling that I really need to start shooting 'moving stills', not video as such, just still frames where the world moves within the frame. To share my experiences with others, I feel there are occasions where extra information is needed, audio & movement at least. Now HOW do I record & synchronise the sounds of my scene with the camera - a whole new world of learning & I'm not sure I have enough years left to learn!
    GD002597.jpg
  • A very wet walk on Anglesey's West Coast, so wet that for the first time ever I carried an umbrella 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
    GD000992.jpg
  • The roads were quiet, the forest track deserted and the hillsides empty. The morning rays of sunlight were slowly being extinguished by a deepening cloud cover and the winds were picking up. By the time I reached the ridge a howling gale was bending even the thickest fir trees. The summits were now hidden by a cloud of racing drizzle and were completely uninspiring. <br />
<br />
My heavy heart seemed to struggle to feed movement to my legs and every step felt tiring. As I left the hillsides I meandered around a lake and for only time that afternoon, glimmers of light glowed through thinning cloud, reflecting off the deep black lake, reminding me that at some point we will see light again.
    GD002605.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
  • The sunshine was intense beyond the palm canopy and I pushed up into the tree to see it more clearly. I was mesmerised by the movement of the light through the breeze-blown branches but as I tried to retreat the ‘leaves’ were in fact dagger-sharp barbs that stabbed and sliced at my slightest turn. Sometimes you should only ever move forwards, not backwards.
    AOP-19-GD002457.jpg
  • The sunlight was intense, an all encompassing blanket of dry heat, but here in the bushes a gentle breeze rustled the foliage of wispy trees, creating a coolness in the shade. I was warned about this place, and that I needed to tread carefully to avoid all manner of crawling insects and venomous creatures that thrive in this secluded habitat. Every leaf and even the dead twigs on the ground could all be a hiding place for them.<br />
<br />
So as I beat my way along the overgrown path I was taken-aback by what I stumbled across, lying curled up in a patch of sunlight, pale, delicate skin pressed close against the rough ground and sharp leaf litter. There was no obvious movement, just a slight flex of the muscles upon feeling the vibration of my footsteps. I didn’t know how to proceed as I certainly didn’t want to create any disturbance, and I had no idea what the response would be if woken, so I decided to back-track and find a new way around. I became acutely aware that I really did need to watch every step I took in this African scrubland, as you never know what surprises are at each turn. <br />
<br />
From Glyn Davies’s ongoing book and exhibition project Landscape Figures
    Step Carefully on the Path
  • The story goes that someone tried to drive his 4x4 across this vast lake bed, and was never seen again’ <br />
<br />
A hundred million years ago this huge basin in the Etosha National Park was a lake, fed by the Kunene River in Angola, but 16,000 years ago, due to tectonic plate movement the river was diverted West to the Atlantic and gradually the lake dried up leaving this vast lake bed. At 4800 km² this saltpan, the largest in Africa, can be seen from space.<br />
<br />
I’d wanted to see this surreal landscape for a long time, and surprising though it may seem to others, this appealed to me even more than seeing the wildlife in the park! There is this deep need within me to experience vast empty spaces; it’s all part of that humbling vulnerability that I seek. I wanted to feel minute, isolated and insignificant in every possible term. It was difficult of course with anyone else around but fortunately I had a sense of it with just Jani and her two cousins around. We drove out onto the lake (on an ‘official’ stick marked track) and stepped into the baking heat. There was simply nothing ahead of us, almost 50kms to the far side and almost 60 kms to the left and right – it was vast indeed.<br />
<br />
The earth was soft and crumbly rather than rock hard. I can imagine in rain it would get very soft indeed. I’ve read that in prolonged heavy rain the whole lake bed floods up to 10cm deep creating an incredible mirror –like surface which attracts thousands of migrating flamingos.
    GD002263.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
  • Already feeling lucky having driven to the beach in dull weather, and finding the sun had broken through, I spent ages absorbing myself with the foreshore. For the first time this year I found myself standing thigh high in in the Irish Sea at dusk, each wave caressing my skin as I concentrated on the miraculous and heavenly scenes unfolding before me. The cool water started to feel warm and the movement of energy launched my mind to the Summer ahead. I hadn’t even noticed the moon overhead at first, but I caught it glinting in the corner of my eye and the whole euphoria of simply being alive was overwhelming.
    GD002041.jpg
  • There is a stark loneliness at this far-flung crag even in summer. The woman had been silently climbing the rocky crag to reach its flat top, where she crouched down to look around her. The slow turn of her head was the only movement in this still landscape but then she arose, her slender body illuminated by a ray of late afternoon sunshine. She turned to the light and stood on tiptoes before shouting into the breeze, “I can’t believe this! I’m alone on a mountain and I am completely NAKED! This is AMAZING!” She slowly rotated on her stone platform so that she could feel the warmth over every inch of her body and she revelled in the sensual experience of sun-warmed air flowing over her womanhood. She felt natural; she felt the rock; she loved the liberation and the open space. She was at one with the mountains.
    She Saw the Light
  • On the top of a high headland, in an apparently deserted village on the mountainous West Coast of Corfu, a cat silently and purposefully walks down a mosaic lane, it glanced at us in acknowledgement, but we didn't speak Greek so it moved into the shadows.
    GD000846.jpg
  • An incredibly tranquil evening near Beaumaris, with winter sun forming a beautifully coloured backdrop over the far West of the Menai Strait. The colours were warm but the air, bitter cold.
    GD002918.jpg
  • Nominated in 2022 International Colour Awards<br />
<br />
It was one of those dreary days in North Wales; the clouds hadn't lifted once and light drizzle dampened you from every angle. I happened upon this mountain lake where a father & son (I think from listening to them) were fly fishing from their little boat. I stood in silence in this tranquil Welsh scene, mesmerised by their action of casting lines out over the surface, a skill indeed. After a short while I found myself smiling though, as just beyond the ripples of movement from the boat and beyond the furthest reach of their bait, I noticed several large fish safely jumping for midges. Clever Welsh fish.
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  • Just the most incredible sunset from a Welsh mountain top, looking out over Caernarfon Bay & the Irish Sea. The sea was basically calm, but you can still see huge swathes of movement when looking at the surface textures.
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  • A hundred million years ago this huge basin in the Etosha National Park was a lake, fed by the Kunene River in Angola, but 16,000 years ago, due to tectonic plate movement the river was diverted West to the Atlantic and gradually the lake dried up leaving this vast lake bed. At 4800 km² this saltpan, the largest in Africa, can be seen from space.<br />
<br />
I’d wanted to see this surreal landscape for a long time, and surprising though it may seem to others, this appealed to me even more than seeing the wildlife in the park! There is this deep need within me to experience vast empty spaces; it’s all part of that humbling vulnerability that I seek. I wanted to feel minute, isolated and insignificant in every possible term. It was difficult of course with anyone else around but fortunately I had a sense of it with just Jani and her two cousins around. We drove out onto the lake (on an ‘official’ stick marked track) and stepped into the baking heat. There was simply nothing ahead of us, almost 50kms to the far side and almost 60 kms to the left and right – it was vast indeed.<br />
<br />
The earth was soft and crumbly rather than rock hard. I can imagine in rain it would get very soft indeed. I’ve read that in prolonged heavy rain the whole lake bed floods up to 10cm deep creating an incredible mirror –like surface which attracts thousands of migrating flamingos.
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  • Utterly calm conditions over the Menai Strait, near Beaumaris on a warm Spring morning. The only obvious movement was the flight of waders and seagulls as they swooped over the mirror like surface of the sea. Indeed there was near silence apart from their calls to each other. The enormous limestone headland of the Great Orme almost looked like an island as soft mist obscured the low strip of land that connects it to mainland Wales. <br />
<br />
This was one of those mornings that fills me with positivity, physical warmth and hope for more glorious days in the summer ahead.
    GD002237
  • Already feeling lucky having driven to the beach in dull weather, and finding the sun had broken through, I spent ages absorbing myself with the foreshore. For the first time this year I found myself standing thigh high in in the Irish Sea at dusk, each wave caressing my skin as I concentrated on the miraculous and heavenly scenes unfolding before me. The cool water started to feel warm and the movement of energy launched my mind to the Summer ahead.
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  • "In a way, this was ALL about the sea, the waves and movement, the sky played the role of illuminator only. I became transfixed by the recurring rhythms which occur where waves meet shore.<br />
<br />
At first there is the obvious repetition of waves reaching the shore and dumping their energy. Then there is the apparent chaos of individual waves, which never form the same shapes, height or angle. But then, especially when using a slightly slower shutter speed on the camera, it’s possible to clarify just how much underlying consistency of rhythm there is below the choppy surface, influenced by the shape of the beach in relation to the speed and direction of the waves.<br />
<br />
Although large sweeps of watery sheets seem to slide at all angles over the shore, certain strong lines of confluence emerge, where bodies of water meet bodies of water and the energy is consistently channelled in one direction, like standing waves. On what had been a solitary, dreary afternoon of being out just for fresh air, I had become extremely excited by my heightened awareness of rhythm within chaos, and I may now be able to use that to create perspective in everyday life!"
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  • Just the most incredibly tranquil scene where the Cymyran Strait passes through the tiny village of Four Mile Bridge.<br />
<br />
The colourful handful of mooring buoys looked as if they were floating in the sky, to be navigated by aircraft. <br />
<br />
I've literally never seen it this mirror-calm before, and I was SO awed by it that I screeched to a halt on the far side of the bridge and came back to photograph this amazing view. I got chatting to Janet, a retired surgical nurse who lives just a few hundred feet away from this, as she also stood mesmerised by the view. She said she'd been living there for many years and like me, had never seen it just SO perfectly calm, where usually the movement of the tide at least creates some currents and ripples.
    GD002910.jpg
  • From a lofty hilltop two hundred or more feet above the sea at North Anglesey, we could smell the sea air. Wave crests were breaking into spindrift and salty spray was funnelled up gullies in the cliffs below to fill our lungs with ocean gale.<br />
<br />
The clouds were changing by the second as they raced overhead, casting wonderfully animated shadows of strange figures on the sea below. Apart from the solid headland of Holyhead Mountain in the distance, the only other constant was the brilliant intensity of spring sunshine, shimmering on the millions of waves fetching across the bay. This was real exposure to the elements and from this high up, standing right at the cliff edge, it felt as though we were flying, carried by thermals almost literally lifting us off our feet.<br />
<br />
On the horizon a ferry noses out of Holyhead Harbour, beginning its three hour voyage upon choppy open waters to Southern Ireland seventy three miles away. I'm with my brother who I haven't walked with for many years, but we used to climb together, sail together and drink together; near inseparable until our late twenties. As we continued our cliff-top ramble, both clutching our walking poles and grumbling about the state of our threadbare knee joints, I realised that the only thing as eternal as the movement of wind, waves and tide, was the love between us brothers, all of us brothers. Although our separate lives are racing by faster than we would like, and that we will become just someone else's memories, these beautiful, wild, universal elements will be there for an eternity, bringing similar humbling joy to others in the future.
    GD002631.jpg
  • Generally we didn’t see much in the way of large wildlife as we travelled across the high open roads of Namibia, sometimes Ostrich, sometimes Baboons but here on the Skeleton Coast not much at all.<br />
<br />
As we watched volcanic hills to the right and acres of white sand dunes to the left, slip past us as we motored North along the baking-hot salt roads, I was quite taken aback to see a sudden movement off to our right. There were two Black-backed Jackals, one scampering about, skittish even, but the other almost motionless. We pulled the van over and waited a few moments to see if they’d be bothered by us, but nothing changed. I very gently stepped out of the van and lay on the burning ground so that I could steady the telephoto lens and also include some of the background hills.<br />
Although the active one immediately moved away after I exited the vehicle the other was clearly eating something and confidently remained in place. I was surprised that he’d found anything to eat in the deserted arid landscape, but knowing that they’d even eat spiders an scorpions I suddenly started worrying about what I was lying on! I couldn’t help but see them just as a dog, like a small Alsatian, and I had this urge to call it over and give it a stroke! No chance however, for as soon as I started to move from prone position, it began to walk slowly away. As I lifted the camera to take another pic it shifted further away again. It was clear my Doctor Doolittle dream was just that as soon they were just dots on the dusty horizon.
    GD002268.jpg
  • A hundred million years ago this huge basin in the Etosha National Park was a lake, fed by the Kunene River in Angola, but 16,000 years ago, due to tectonic plate movement the river was diverted West to the Atlantic and gradually the lake dried up leaving this vast lake bed. At 4800 km² this saltpan, the largest in Africa, can be seen from space.<br />
<br />
I’d wanted to see this surreal landscape for a long time, and surprising though it may seem to others, this appealed to me even more than seeing the wildlife in the park! There is this deep need within me to experience vast empty spaces; it’s all part of that humbling vulnerability that I seek. I wanted to feel minute, isolated and insignificant in every possible term. It was difficult of course with anyone else around but fortunately I had a sense of it with just Jani and her two cousins around. We drove out onto the lake (on an ‘official’ stick marked track) and stepped into the baking heat. There was simply nothing ahead of us, almost 50kms to the far side and almost 60 kms to the left and right – it was vast indeed.<br />
<br />
The earth was soft and crumbly rather than rock hard. I can imagine in rain it would get very soft indeed. I’ve read that in prolonged heavy rain the whole lake bed floods up to 10cm deep creating an incredible mirror –like surface which attracts thousands of migrating flamingos.
    GD002259.jpg
  • A couple walking their dog in early summer heat at Crosby Beach, Liverpool.
    GD002036.jpg
  • At high tide this is a vast stretch of wind-chopped sea. Small flocks of oystercatchers and turnstones skim across its surface as they wait for the spoils of low water and terns screech in the open sky before plunging into schools of small fish.<br />
<br />
But now the estuary is empty, just acres of wet sand and silt remain. In the middle of this huge open space a woman lies recumbent in the afternoon sunshine. The last rivulets of brine silently flow past her beautiful wet body, every inch of her skin delicately textured with raised goosebumps. The sunlight and gentle breeze warmed her flesh and her salty skin became smooth.<br />
<br />
That evening on my return journey, the tide was high once again. A lonely curlew gave its distinctive call as it flew inland to nest, and in the darkening gloom of dusk I saw movement out on the water. I focussed hard on the smooth curves amongst the small waves, and I saw a dark tail appear above the surface before the shape disappeared altogether. I can only assume it was a seal.
    Revealed at Low Tide
  • Within 2 minutes I was in Llanfaelog and the most spectacular view presented itself, a full moon right behind an amazing flood-lit church of St Faelog. Even though I was in a blinding hurry, I decided to stop the van and shoot the scene anyway. Actually the moon and church weren't in the ideal alignment for the composition I wanted but by bracing my tripod over the steps of the church, I could just create a composition that worked. I shot about four exposures at varying shutter speeds to get the right cloud coverage of the moon (so much more interesting than the moon alone) and as I was making the last exposure, a huge silent white Barn Owl glid across the scene in front of me, straight out of a Tim Burton film :-) Of course with 20 second exposures there was no chance of me recording this beautiful creature, but it will always be there in memory and will always remain magical. There were other movements in the graveyard, rustles, snaps and slithers but I couldn't actually see anything. At one point I felt something brush against my trousers but still saw nothing.
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  • It only takes a few minutes of keen observation to start to really see the huge variation of colour tone & texture on the sea surface, revealing the endless current movements just beneath the surface.
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  • It only takes a few minutes of keen observation to start to really see the huge variation of colour tone & texture on the sea surface, revealing the endless current movements just beneath the surface.
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Glyn Davies, Professional Photographer and Gallery

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