Sands of Time

We welcome 2022 with a trip to Rhyl - a strange choice of destination perhaps. I realise many blippers may have fond(ish) memories of childhood trips of funfair visits there; we certainly do. However, these are tarnished by its rather run-down image of our adult years, and it’s a place we seldom visit. In fact, however, it has some lovely beach textures offered by its many wooden groynes, and I’m reminded that a further visit may be needed soon. 

Today, however, it’s the western end we visit - really Kinmel Bay across the river Clwyd. I’m on the hunt for snow buntings which apparently frequent the area. Not surprisingly, it’s busy on this stunning New Year’s Day, with families and dog walkers and groups of friends like us wanting to blow away the cobwebs of 2021 - or indeed to clear their heads from recent celebrations! And equally predictably, there are no snow buntings to be seen. 

The beach, however is stunning, and goes on for miles - stretching, it seems, right back to the Carneddau masked today in sepia tones, tiny figures silhouetted on distant horizons. We walk along, finding ways past deep river channels flowing through the sand and shingle, low sun sparking on the water.  

It’s blustery, the sharp wind picking up dry sand and causing mini sandstorms across the beach, the feet of dogs and walkers disappearing in golden dust. 

Despite the lengthening days, the sun is already low, casting long shadows across the marram-grass topped dunes and fences, and huge tree trunks long abandoned in the sand glow warmly in the dying light. Atop the dunes, a cloth-capped man stands all alone, staring towards the near-setting sun, contemplating the year just gone perhaps, or musing on what this new year might bring. And it’s this that forms my main, but I’m taking full advantage of the luxury of all those new year extras to add to the story of our day. 

Still catching up ……