A WALK: IMPRESSIONS
20 JULY 2017

A collaborative project between Anna Souter and Stephen Lock. The project involved walking both ways along the Ceredigion coastline from New Quay to Aberaeron, both places that featured heavily in Anna’s childhood. Stephen, by contrast, has only come to know this coastline in more recent years. During the walk, photographs were taken approximately every five minutes to record the journey undertaken. The camera was held at chest height to minimise aesthetic interference and leave the framing of the images to chance. Trees, birds and butterflies become part of this visual narrative, along with other walkers and the apparatus of the pathway. Paying attention to the associations that presented themselves to us during the walk, we wrote down our memories of the walk as soon as we returned home.

Together, the notes and images convey a collaborative portrait of the coastline with many active participants, including ourselves, the camera-lens and the rise and fall of the landscape itself. The result is an exploration of the landscape as a holder and prompter for memory, walking as process and the creative agency of the non-human.

 

ANNA

 

OUT

New Quay car park – walked down to the end of the pier – nostalgia – ice creams and fish & chips.
Memories – sand on the beach, swimming in the cold sea. Eating fish & chips on a blustery day and watching for dolphins in the bay.

 

Down onto the beach at low tide, among the watermarked hulls of boats – sand always looks drier than it is – round the edge of the pier and on to the beach.
Colours: silver-blue and pale ochre sand.
Satisfying tread on damp sand.

 

Up the track we always took as children, past the house where TS Eliot stayed (Dylan Thomas upon the cliffs).
Round the road – quiet country lane – into a field via a run-down house (path unclear). We talked about finance.

 

Into the woods and along, hearing the sea to our left. Not realising we had climbed so high until we suddenly came out into the sunshine and saw the whole coastline before us.
Mountains of north Wales usually visible in the distance – sometimes nearer, sometimes further, playing tricks with the horizon – but not today. The focus is on the foreground – path – sea – vegetation.

 

A stream was suddenly beneath our feet, running under a footbridge (covered with yellow lichen) in a series of pools before tumbling over into the sea. Most streams or rivers lead to the ocean in the end, but there’s something almost shocking about a waterfall that leaps blithely over a cliff-edge, about the splash of fresh water on salt.

 

A very steep bank and a climb through the gorse. A field with horses.
A holiday camp with stables and a children’s play area. Out over a stone road bridge. Through a field of cows – I hover nervously near the gate when I notice the big brown bull among the black and white cows. Move at a trot through the field to safety.

 

More footpaths, including one like a tunnel through hawthorn. A buzzard (?) flies overhead, and the hedgerows teem with noises.

 

Noises are different depending on whether you are in woods or farmland, coast or inland. The hawthorn and slow bushes creak and squeak in the wind. Everything is underlined by the rush of the ocean (turned yellow-green here by the churning of the sea bed).

 

Another waterfall pours into the sea, smaller this time. Gulls curl overhead. Do they sound different depending on the weather?
Then we see two kestrels floating, apparently stationary in the sky. Suddenly, they dived – one after the other – elegant.

 

The town of Aberaeron comes into the distance – dominated by the Harbourmaster Hotel, where sitting on the harbour wall became a byword for simple happiness and nostalgia for my family.
Walked round to eat out sandwiches on the pier (blustery) before getting an ice cream.

 

RETURN

On the way back, I concentrated on the plant life, birds and butterflies around me. Intended to take a picture of every plant species, but quickly realised we would never get back. Instead, captured whatever caught my eye.
It made me stop and look. To look more closely and more deeply than I had on the way out, where the wider act of walking and being had overwhelmed me.

 

Each field and hedgerow was a new ecosystem, the tracks of bees and butterflies connecting them.
I don’t know butterflies – saw several Red Admirals (the only type I know) and many others, including some that looked like the admiral’s rustic cousins, and some with ragged cream wings with brown spots.

 

Flowers I know better, but unsure whether the bloom at the end of my fingers matches the name at the tip of my tongue: sea campion, knapweed, nightshade – all are mysterious.
Yellow flowers abound (although there are also pink, blue, purple and red). Looking at a patch of yellow flowers is a little like staring towards the sun. Tear away your gaze, blink, and you will see the sea-green imprint of their faces wherever you look.

 

Returned to the wide sweep of beach before the fishing village – the tide had come in (so fast, it seemed, that I didn’t believe it to be normal). Trudged half way over the rocks and clay, before climbing a set of steep steps that took us towards the village – a route I had never known.

 

 

 

 

STEPHEN

 

Walked down streets to the quay and along to the end. Bright sunshine, little blue sailing boats, no view of North Wales.

 

Down slipway and onto beach, ripples of sand. Rough waters far out and loud crashing waves, Tchaikovsky. Small white stones on shore among smooth grey pebbles and larger black rocks. Recalled walking along beach before and trying (failing) to cartwheel.

 

Turned off beach up small stream through iron church gate to road, and over small humpback bridge. Along narrow lanes with tall trees, through about previous visit there, and paths in hills above Florence. Climbed from some houses up to higher parts flanked by bushes, insects.

 

Walked through tree tunnel, dappled light, sound of rustling leaves and waves mixed. Down to waterfall, fast, stonechat on a post, but almost sad to see it only as a trickle. Scrambled back up high, birds of prey and gulls circling, squawking loudly. Passed holiday commune, people sat outside, felt watched: seemed smart and bright but unreal, still pleasant.

 

Walked out up slope through cow field, paused for them to make way. Final stretch along the coast, winding down to Aberaeron past ostentatious villa gardens packed with statues and rosehips, and big gothic window.

 

Turned towards council building without knowing what it way – leisure centre, hospital, care home?
Down main road into town and left, over footbridge and onto harbour wall. Sandwiches followed by trip to gallery and honey ice cream.

 

Began return by slightly different route, round harbour and across front. Had to cross boggy patch using stepping stones. Wound way back uphill out of town, past the houses. Looking out for different types of plants, sometimes thinking in terms of colour, sometimes leaf shape. Cloudy – began to rain, chilly, wind picked up.

 

Saw how footpaths often split in two – because of people wanting to walk side by side? Became impatient due to weather and worrying that tide would cut off return by beach, recalled how this had happened before and yet still never planned for.

 

Watched for birds – saw stonechat again? – and tried to remember different butterflies. Tried to spot seals – too choppy and water churned up with seaweed.

 

Constant views of New Quay, only interrupted by holiday village (now empty) and woods/high ferns. Strong wind pushed rainclouds away, sunshine on the water.

 

Found a walking rhythm and quickly time and distance passed. Back down to lanes and church gate – one ruined building by car park, left neglected, another being done up by builders. Thought of challenge of making a home, as well as opportunity if done right. Pink Floyd, Astronomy Domine. Out onto beach, warm and muggy, bright sunlight. Harder work crossing stones at top of beach than sand, not able to take in view, only to concentrate on footholds. Felt I should be quicker at this as spent many holidays climbing around rock pools.

 

Surprised to find people walking other way and sitting out – beach goers without a beach. Climbed metal stairs to find new path back to New Quay, and a long final hill up to the road, interested to see where it brought us out.