Black Velvet - a photo on Flickriver

Black Velvet

            Even by my standards I’ve been very slack at sharing images from last summer’s expedition to North Wales.  All the more bizarre when you consider just how beautiful it is there.  There are those of you who rightly point out that I’m extremely lucky to live out in the sticks where I do, far away from all the noise and angst of the cities, next to one of the most feted coastlines on the continent.  Cornwall is stunning - there’s no arguing with that.  

But so is North Wales.  And not only does the top half of the Principality have a coastline to rival our own; it also has imposing mountains, huge lakes and crashing waterfalls in numbers.  And it’s delightfully serene in the middle of June.  You don’t get ripped off here either.  I mean I’m not keen on the concept of paying to park at all, but at least the prices are reasonable in this part of Wales.  I’m not going to tell you how much Cornwall Council charges us to park at Gwithian Towans now we’re back in the busy season.  As far as I’m concerned, North Wales has the lot.  A hiking acquaintance of mine from Denmark, who knows the Scottish Highlands very well, insists that North Wales is her favourite part of Britain.  It’s just as remote from the world as our home in West Cornwall, and it’s even got a smattering of heritage railways if you like that sort of thing.  Although Ali wouldn’t let me go for a ride on the Talyllyn Line.  She has no sense of reverence for my childhood dreams of yesteryear.  Come on - I know it’s not just me; hands up - how many of you wanted to be a train driver when you were five years old and fed on a diet of bedtime stories from the Reverend Awdry’s published works?  The Talyllyn Railway even made a guest appearance once or twice when Thomas and Percy were on their holidays. 

We came to Harlech because yet more hiking friends of ours had been here three summers earlier, when we had all been cautiously released from some of the more drastic aspects of Lockdown One.  I followed their motorhome adventures across the realm on the usual social media channels, and demanded to know exactly where they’d parked the bus to get such a jaw dropping view across the Llyn Peninsula.  Mark told me, and I duly noted the location for future reference.  One day, once we had a van of our own, we’d be heading there ourselves.  I needed that view in my life.

Of course by the time we were planning that visit in Brenda, our ageing Renault Master van, I’d forgotten the name of the farm campsite up in the clouds, but confirmation that I’d found it on the map again came quickly, and we made a pilgrimage of our own.  It didn’t disappoint; right from the first evening we were treated to a spectacular sunset.  The second evening was pretty good too as you can see.  As we rolled up the slope towards the main road from the beach at Llandanwg towards sunset, we paused briefly to admire the view from the cliffs above the edge of the beach.  Not for the first time I pointed the long lens over the darkening expanse of Bae Ceredigion, picking out the line of the mountains at the eastern end of the peninsula, while a glowing band of rich orange golden light filled the space between the water and a thick band of black cloud.  To cap the moment, a pillow of nodding cumulus drifted silently across the scene, mimicking the shape of the landscape below almost to perfection.  

There are those of you who know that despite this being a very Welsh scene, black and gold are the national colours of Cornwall.  It seems our Celtic brethren do a similar line in spectacular evening light, and it’s perhaps no coincidence that, surrounded on three sides by the sea, the Llyn Peninsula is a very similar shape to our own - take a look at the map and you’ll see for yourself.  It even points in the same direction, cloaked in the black velvet of approaching darkness.  

I’d better stop eulogising about Wales now.  My better half is Cornish through and through and she doesn’t like it when I start suggesting that other parts of the British Isles might be at least as nice as home.  “Gisson over the bridge back to where you came from,” is what I usually get, even though I’ve been here for nearly fifty years.  Otherwise she might not allow us to come back to Harlech - and I’ve already stated an intention to return next summer.  I want to go on a train ride you see………..

Taken in: UK / Wales / Llanfair / Llanfair (show map)

Taken on: June 17, 2023

Tags:

Wales

North Wales

Cymru

Snowdonia

Eryri

Coast

ukcoast

welsh coast

British Coast

glow

Cloud

Mountain

Llyn

peninsula

Water

Sea

seascape

bae

ceredigion

Gwynedd

Great Britain

Britain

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Canon

Canon 100-400 Mk2

Sunset « less

Sets appears in: • Wales 2023 • Wales more » • North Wales • Mountains « less

Groups appears in: • Sunrise, Sunset -- Anything Sun! • Amateurs more » • Sunset Great Britain • Flickr Social Club • Photography Week • Amateur Photographer Magazine • Flickr Social « less

Camera: Canon EOS 5D Mark IV, f/11.0, 1/50 sec, 164mm, ISO 100 (more info) (hide info)

Camera:	Canon EOS 5D Mark IV
Lens:	EF100-400mm f/4.5-5.6L IS II USM
Aperture:	f/11.0
Exposure Time:	0.02 sec (1/50)
Focal Length:	164mm
ISO:	100
Exposure Bias:	+1/3 EV
Flash:	Off, Did not fire
Exposure Program:	Aperture-priority AE
Exposure Mode:	Auto
Metering Mode:	Multi-segment
White Balance:	Auto
Color Space:	Uncalibrated
Software:	Adobe Photoshop Lightroom Classic 13.2 (Windows)
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