Ynyslas, The Walk

The route is always the same, but the destination invariably different.

This time, an unusually warm Autumn evening, everything seems still, the colours and light seeming to blend, much like we are staring at a watercolour, dominated by the calm silver sea, reflecting the fairy pink sky as the heavy Sun begins to fade.

The only things that appear defined on this hazy lazy canvas, are the frustrated surfers, that appear like a plague of black flies in the near distance, gently bobbing up and down, waiting for a wave that, like so many broken promises, never materialised.

Cardigan Bay is filled of surfers tears.