Our connection to the coast
We live on a peninsula in west Wales, with the coast never far away. We see it all the time during our daily comings and goings, it's always there, always beckoning to us.
Dinas Island as seen from Carn Ffoi
Whichever direction we go in our rugged landscape, we catch a glimpse of the sea - head inland to the valleys, it's behind us, and then on our return, in full splendour right there before us. If we head west, and as the land shrinks, it surrounds us on 3 sides.
To our north is Dinas Island - a headland practically cut off by the sea. To the east, we catch glimpses of it from the peaks of hills and mountains - we are rarely more than an hour from its embrace.
A storm brewing (The Pembrokeshire Dangler) in St George’s Channel.
It's a part of us - that salty smell, the 'karrr' and the 'kek' of a gull, a thud from a wave hitting the back of a cave whilst we sleep at night, effecting a dream of the next forage, and the treasures it might reveal.
Our kind of treasure.
We wake with a zest for the coast, and make haste, usually to Aber Bach or Cwm-yr-Eglwys - a forage, some stone skimming and occasionally a picnic before the pull-up the hill for some cleaning and pressing.
Skimming stones at Aber Bach beach.
Our house smells of the sea, we are surrounded by the images of the seaweeds we press, we have maps of the coastline, and names for all the inlets and promontories for miles around.
We love it when it's calm, we love it when it's wild - each day never the same, the tide in, or a long way out, a big swell, or a gentle lap, high on a cliff, or just stood on the sand - it has engulfed us, and we have embraced it with arms open wide.
“The sea does not reward those who are too anxious, too greedy, or too impatient. One should lie empty, open, choiceless as a beach - waiting for a gift from the sea.”