Coast

The coast has always entranced me. Perhaps in some lifetime long ago we made a pact together. Who knows. I’ve taken chances, trusted her too much. Followed her siren calls and almost succumbed to her depths. Even now I feel a chill as I remember times when I could have not been here any longer, but for a last burst of strength that pulled me from her searching grip and cleared my lungs of her entwining deeps.

This Northumberland fury held me for many hours, but the furthest I wandered merely overwhelmed my gumboots. As I stared down her temper she became solid, intractable, other than water. The dullness of the day stole nothing of her anger as she pawed at my knees and dragged my vision into the maelstrom that tormented the sand and my Canon.

A millennium of shots later and we came to an understanding. You tell me your story and I’ll tell you mine. We shared tales of wildness, of wrecks and teasings. My images coalesced into solid lumps of life as the foam and the spume rode high across the North Sea to die and be reborn on the sands of time.

Later she pulled me back to her home, on the pinions of Gannet and the pout of Puffin to catch her likeness in a film of moving pictures that can be seen here.

But she inhabits me still. In the darkness of night and the depths of my slumber her rock and roll entices me, thrills me, dares me to step closer. Ever closer. One day we may claim each other.

All images copyright Jason Smalley 2021