Hold it! Flash, bang, wallop!

What a picture! Found this old image at a postcard fair a few years ago. Just a little digging around turns up the  White Rose Motor Services Company which was founded in Rhyl in 1912 by the Brookes Brothers. They ran charabanc trips to local beauty spots and they became incredibly popular. The fleet eventually numbered just under 100 buses and coaches by the time they were taken over in 1930. 

Note the speed limit, bottom left on the charabanc ... and those kids - what on earth are they doing?

SEMPER EADEM

What a Knob!

There it was, lying in a clump of wet seaweed right on the top of the rocks. No ordinary artefact this - exquisitely carved with excellent patination – the surprise find seemed to stare back at me.  Maybe the man in the middle had something to do with it. I’d been charmed by an unknown face on an old wet door knob, I had to admit it - I was instantly smitten.

 With his sharp mediaeval pageboy hairstyle held in place by a princely crown, this bloke’s status appeared to be pretty clearly defined, not to mention the precision carved designs surrounding his head - but it was the piercing eyes that had me from the outset.  I bet he’d been there all afternoon, the silent observer watching me from the rock pools ... digging hard in the mud and sand.

Okay, so the only thing I actually detected that day was a sardonic grin beneath his bronze beard, and to date I haven’t been able to dig up any history on my verdigris prince, but for once I don’t care.  

This little beauty goes down as one of my best finds ever, and I love it! 

ANGLO-SAXON SHIPWRECK ON ANGLESEY ?

I’d walk down the creek to Lleiniog beach anyway, because it’s such a fabulous rock-strewn stretch, but after this morning’s chat with M.D. Postie I’m ready to set up camp there for the winter.
  

According to the postman with the metal detector there’s a shipwrecked Anglo-Saxon sailing vessel somewhere down there.

I guess there are those who have known all about it for years, but it’s the first that I’ve heard. This place is a geological feast for the eyes, and famous for it too, but where do you start to look?  Treasure hunting is a more of a visual work out, but well worth it - on a good day there are stone beads and some nice pieces of jet to be had – but an Anglo-Saxon shipwreck?

Now you’re talking!

Photographic image copyright HangingontoWaves

CHILL OUT

                                Don't panic! It's last year, but .....

                      It all started like this (today at The Gazelle).

                And if we're lucky it could be like this again.

                          Don't like ?   Aw ... chill out!


All images copyright HangingontoWaves

AT LAST!

Off the beach, out of the cold and into The Bull - that’s the business. A raging fire, a glass of Pinot and someone’s dulcet tones floating down on a stream of laughter from the back room; the lads are in and what good news was waiting around that corner!

It turns out that at last we’re going to see Antony-the voice-Owen on national telly. Yes! He’s this week’s talented guest singer on the Rhydian show. Emotional for me because I reckon he sings like a god and a break like this is long overdue - celebrations are definitely in order!

“Another Pinot please... and a pint for the man with the magical voice.”

www.s4c.co.uk: Listings: This week Rhydian welcomes former 'Britain's Got Talent' winners, acrobatic gymnastics group Spellbound, who join Rhydian in a unique performance of 'O Fortuna'. Popular Welsh soprano Shân Cothi serenades us with her version of the traditional Welsh song 'Lisa Lân' and re-creates the duet made famous by Freddie Mercury and Montserrat Caballé, 'Barcelona'. We also meet Antony Owen, a singer from Anglesey, who has the chance to show off his talent on stage. Wednesday Dec 7th 9.00

CAN YOU TELL WHAT IT IS YET?

THE TIDE IS HIGH AND I'M HOLDING ON ...

...Until it recedes. No need for a detector this week!






Photographic image copyright HangingontoWaves

SIR ANTHONY HOPKINS & THE DUCHESS OF CAMBRIDGE WALK DOWN THE AISLES - SO WHO'S NEXT?

Bumped into Sir Anthony Hopkins in Waitrose at Menai Bridge last week ... 

Well okay, truth be told, I bumped into the shop assistant who bumped into Sir Anthony Hopkins in Waitrose last week – but I was still as amazed as she was, although probably for a slightly different reason.

It seems like only yesterday that one could find a parking space, no matter what the time of day, at the old Coop (Waitrose before the make-over) and that you could top up your tank next door at the little family run garage.

 Now it’s not that I’m complaining, I do honestly love the new-look gateway to Anglesey, but I do find myself reminiscing about a yesteryear that is barely twelve months old!

Take the Anglesey Arms for instance – what a transformation – and even the post office has gone posh! It’s all good stuff for the area, especially the influx of glitterati who are gracing the aisles of our supermarkets - but I do draw the line when it comes to one particular institution. I go so far as to say that I might even consider setting up camp in the middle of High Street and exercising my right to picket if the make-over-fairies ever attempt to get their hands on Evans Bros! 

GOOD LORD! HE'S AT IT AGAIN

Some people just can’t keep out of the public gaze (or is it a case of ‘you can run but you can’t hide'?) Lord Winnington (aka Mr Cragg) looks set to be telly bound yet again, which isn’t surprising considering the gift of a house that he lives in. No sooner has he waved goodbye to the Sky TV crew than our bon viveur is putting out the welcome mat again.

Merlyns has had more incarnations than Doctor Who and his lordship has been responsible for his fair share of them.  It’s the fab place that everyone wants to live in – conjures up all the adjectives: Large, white, airy, dreamy, loads of interior woodwork, period fireplaces, views to die for - very, very Victorian ... Do I need to go on? 

Yep! We’re all a little bit jealous if we’re to be honest, but we can live with it can’t we? We love him, Ian is our favourite philanthropist and his doors are always open, so to speak (especially now that he’s turned the place into an arty B&B).

The place is the perfect setting for anything you can think of: Summer School; Jazz on the lawn or opera on same, in fact any kind of artistic pursuit because Merlyns seems to have a natural dynamic all of its own.  It was once the childhood home of Sir Kyffin Williams, but strangely enough he wasn’t altogether happy in that particular paradise, the house seemed gargantuan to a little chap. It’s different now of course, there’s central heating and loads of hot water in the Welsh slate shower rooms - a far cry from pine wash stands and Pears soap.

So what’s this about the media? Well, here’s the thing ... Winnington’s not a man to rest on his laurels. He whipped up a pretty impressive art gallery a couple of years ago, which was followed immediately after the launch by plans to build a flat-pack house in the wood at the bottom of his garden (the fairies were all up for it) and there was some romantic talk about the reinstatement of the original 15^thcentury monastery fishpond as a wildlife lake.

Slow down ... Slow down. Surely to God, no-one can do all that in a couple of months, with only one male offspring? Of course they can – it’s Ian – he’s like that.

The building was up and running in just six weeks (awesome) but not without all the usual highs and lows inherent to this type of adventure:  Flooding trenches and bad weather; Depression-and-too-much-wine; Missing builders; Depression-and-too-much-wine; Beautiful staircase and fabulous kitchen; Delirious-relief-and-too-much-wine. Yes, it was heavy stuff and Sky tv were there. 

 But it’s all over now ... done with ... water under the bridge ... quiet evenings at the bridge club ... a laugh and a pint at The Bull and a stress free life ...

Well, actually, no. That doesn’t sound a bit like Winnington.  Word on the grapevine has it that there’s another tv programme in the offing: Different channel, different subject, same intrepid characters.

Can’t wait!

THE DUCHESS OF CAMBRIDGE SAVES ON ANGLESEY

Shopping in Llangefni just turned into something else this week. The word on the island is that Kate has switched sides and they even know about it in Menai Bridge – especially at Waitrose!

The Duchess of Cambridge is now shopping for the royal palate at ASDA(One in the bag for WALMART). Good Lord! The staff at ASDA are walking on air.

Watch out Waitrose!  

*Every little helps – even when you’re a Royal.

ROYAL PIER-AGE!

It’s a dirty job, but someone has to do it. Grovelling in the mud beneath Bangor Pier, surreptitiously sifting through the detritus of past generations - love it. Not everyone’s cup of tea, I’ll grant you, but there could be anything buried in this oily slime: animal bones, bits of old pottery, mediaeval  artefacts, coins of the realm - literally anything and that’s the attraction, not to mention the peace and quiet ...  or so I thought.

“Hiya Barb ... what you doing down there?”

Terry Thomas’ smiling head was up there in the daylight. Squinting from the shadows I could just make him out, hanging over the wrought iron pier railings. I was going to say something sarcastic about having a picnic on the rocks and then I remembered that he was the proprietor of a little goldmine part way down the boards.  “Just coming up for a brew Terry,” I called back.

Wow! What a great surprise. I knew he had a little F&B business, and that it was becoming more established with every season, but this was better than I’d expected.

Of course the view along the Menai Strait is sensational in both directions, and the food (TT’s special pancakes, authentic Welsh rarebit, homemade Bara Brith etc; etc;) is everything that you’d expect, but I guess the real crack is all the goss – who’s been there, when, why and what they said.

SAYLE OF THE CENTURY?

“Alright then, what’s happening Terry?”

I was glad that I’d asked. It seems that Whistlestop-On-The-Pier has become the must- visit eatery on the North Wales coastline and it hasn’t escaped the attention of the rich and famous:

‘This is a favourite spot of ours. My wife and I come here not only for the views which are spectacular but also for the wonderful, authentic, Welsh rarebit, dished up at the pier’s Whistlestop Cafe. It's run by an ex-academic who used to teach at the University, and it's one of those places that's got that elusive something that always draws you back.’

Alexei Sayle. Beautiful Britain October 2010.

Can’t disagree with him really. My mate Terry is selling grub to the stars now – amazing. Just a week before the Royal “announcement”, last November, Terry had an unexpected visit. The pier was completely empty, not a person in sight when suddenly he noticed a solitary couple walking towards the Whistlestop. He watched them through the tiny gothic windows as they approached and as they drew closer it became apparent that the young chap was Prince Harry.

 “I couldn’t believe it when they came into the cafe,” he gasped. “I knew immediately it was Prince Harry. He had a very nice, dark haired young lady with him (TT wouldn’t say any more on the subject of the lady!) and they sat down to eat. She ordered a pancake and he had a Welsh rarebit. They chatted away happily and no-one was around to disturb them. When they finished eating they came across to pay and I just had to say something, so I casually asked ’Whereabouts  in the country are you from?’ and they started to giggle. The young lady pointed at Prince Harry and mischievously said, ’Oh, he’s from Buckingham ... shire!’ and we all burst out laughing. It was a lovely moment, then they thanked me, said good bye and left. ”

Great stuff Terry! Glad I climbed up for a cuppa. Running this little place atop the pier seems to be a bit like mudlarking beneath it – you never know what’s going to turn up!

IT'S THAT TIME AGAIN

Autumn's great and Winter's even better.  High tides and blustering winds mercilessly thrash away at the coastline and I can't wait to get down there ... but things really hot up after night fall. When Hugh lights the fire at The Bull you know it's time to mellow down for the winter.

 A pint of the guest and a Pinot for the lady - bring it on!

High Wind + High Tide = High Expectations!




Photographic image copyright HangingontoWaves

WHAT THE FHA ARE THEY DOING DOWN THERE ?

It's common knowledge that Anglesey beaches are sprinkled with bits of old pottery, but these pieces of green & white have been turning up regularly on the Menai Strait around the area of the Glyn Garth flats and I've been intrigued as to why they are there. I've been searching for years for some information on the initials FHA. Suggestions have been everything from Federal Housing Administration to Floppy Hat Association. Then I discovered this old photo in a junk shop in Rhyl.

I guess that the F.H.A. Guest House was the original Bishop's Palace which was demolished in favour of a concrete box. I'd like to know more about the F.H.A.

HRH ... and not a Waitrose bag in sight!

                             The Green, Beaumaris.  Piloting the helicopter - not the chap in red. 



Shortcutting

With traffic clots in Uxbridge Square as unfathomable as ever, I decided to take the scenic route through Menai Bridge, along the waters edge and under the bridge to the Anglesey Arms. Down there beneath the mighty iron girders and suspension cables life looks entirely different; one really does 'feel the poetry.' There's a definite sense that two lofty giants straddle the Menai Strait, commanding the swirling blue-green waters beneath their feet ... felt like nothing more than an ant in the bushes to be honest!

This shot proves that height isn't necessarily an advantage. For those of us who are vertically challenged this image is a reminder that people who look down upon life may possibly see someone passing by - but might never catch a glimpse of the journey that they are taking.

Oh yes, and for anyone who says that shortcutting is for lazy buggers ... Wrong!



Photographic image copyright HangingontoWaves

Ladies are lovin' it ...

Spotted this intrepid couple hopping the rocks on our beach ...

 It's all about the red boots really.

Photographic image copyright HangingontoWaves

STRANGER ENCOUNTERS 2

LOCATION: Llanddwyn Island. 3pm July 2011

GIST: Sitting on a stone wall outside the Pilot Cottages Museum, enjoying the breath taking scenic views and watching visitors enter and leave the two tiny buildings at the end of a row of four small cottages which were built for the pilots who helped boats navigate into the ports along the Menai Strait.

 

These guys were heroes back in their day. As well as guiding commercial shipping, the pilots crewed the Llanddwyn lifeboat until its withdrawal from service in 1903. The little museum houses information about their lives and beautifully re-creates the cramped, but cosy, one-up-one-down living conditions in which they had to live and raise their families.

Lots of people passed through in the short time that I was there. Suddenly a happy holidaying couple tumbled through the exit door with their three young children. They paused for a moment of contemplation after the museum experience.

HE: It must have been dreadful, having to live in there during the winter.

SHE: Yes, really hard.

HE: Imagine ... No Play Station ... No telly ... No mobile phone 

... Just the sound of the sea bashing on your window.

SHE: Terrible.

NO BIG SPLASH ... BUT THE FUTURE IS HANGING ONTO WAVES

                                                                                                                               copyright hangingontowaves.com

LOVE THIS PIC

Day trippers ... just look at the clothes ... the facial expressions ... the personal effects ... these things I think of when beachcombing.

This was a great day for everyone on board the steamship La Marguerite, but not so good for the passengers of the decrepit paddle steamer Rothsay Castle back in August 1831.

It just wouldn't happen today ... 150 middle class city folk boarded the rotted timbers for a fun day out on the coastline between Conwy and Beaumaris and only 23 survived to tell the tale.


The captain was drunk in his cabin when the old steamer hit hard on Dutchman's Bank, and the rest is history.

It had been a rotten journey - 10 hours to progress thirty six miles (sounds a bit like the A55 on a Friday night) with a helmsman who didn't actually know how to steer.

My finds bag is full of crumbling pocket watches and winders, clay pipe heads, belt buckles and hat pins. I guess they must have been the property of people like this - using their belongings my artwork starts to feel like something of a privilige.





www.beeadmasart.co.uk

St. Peter and the Waves

Beaumaris is packed with Peters. The town has a Peter for every occasion: Pete-the-Feet; Pete-World; Prof-Peter and Peter-Peter.

Peter-Peter (practical in every way) has, this week, been raised to sainthood after performing a minor miracle on my Fisher M-Scope. Yes, she's old, but I love her. Might not be linked to a satellite, but she's come up with some fantastic stuff over the years (anyway, the Penmon postman says that you can't beat an early Fisher M-Scope - and that's good enough for me).

My fault entirely ... Got a huge bleep on Lligwy beach ... Got over excited .. Got careless, threw her down and she hit a rock. Disaster. I found a lump of lead (not a gold sovereign from the Royal Charter) and my little Fisher-friend had bitten the dust (sand in this case).

But sometimes things do happen for the best. I just discovered that I've probably been relying on electronic assistance for far too long - beachcombing with my eyes definitely has its benefits: I walk longer distances and bend over a bit more ... too much information. Good news is that my metal detector is up and running again thanks to the genius of Peter-Peter (and the promise of a couple of pints in The Bull)

ONCE MORE UNTO THE BEACH

Some things come out of the sand as found treasure - this little beauty was a lost one.

First thing I saw was the date: 1603. 'Wow! A 17th century medal', I thought. But no, it is in actual fact a sports medal awarded by the David Hughes Grammar School, Beaumaris in 1936.

HILDA OLIVER
THREE LEGGED RACE
UNDER 16
1936

Hilda would have been so browned off when she discovered that her precious sports medal was lost in the sand on the Menai Strait - it must have been a hard won battle as she struggled to victory across the playing field tied to another schoolgirl. Perhaps someone knows where her family are now?

PICTURE THIS ...

How cold was that day in 1886? These guys are perching precariously close to the shoreline, but they seem to be perfectly comfortable with their proximity to the wreckage of the White Diamond steamer Missouri .  It can, apparently, still be seen in shallow water at Porth-y-Post.

HISTORY~MYSTERY

What’s this all about then?
A sprinkling of pre-history across the Welsh sands, or just a collection of sea tossed rocks? It has been suggested by some local people, in the know, that there has been a flourishing tourist industry in Wales for thousands of years and Neolithic gift shops may have been spread across the coastline for an undeterminable period of time. I tend to go along with this theory as these little stone objects resemble standing stones seen at Bryn Celli Ddu (the mound in a dark grove) and elsewhere on Ynys Môn.

Fantastic to think that some one might have actually carved these pieces for a living. The flow of tourists hasn’t diminished over the centuries, it seems that during mediaeval times pilgrims flocked to these shores en route to salvation and predictably a healthy industry was in operation, providing souvenirs and hat badges for the pious punters - but more on that later.

This particular selection comes in a variety of local stone types, from granite to red sandstone. They measure approx 10-12 cms. Some questions spring up out of the geology e.g., How did pre-historic man carve the granite shapes?

Now there’s a history-mystery for you.

ROCK FACES

BEACH OUT OF REACH

Blue heaven and golden sands - the tourist season's in full flow and my treasure hotspots are definitely out of reach, so I head inland. Digging over sun hardened soil in July is tough, but the promising sound of an electronic bleep in the undergrowth will supply me with enough resolve to endure the inevitable grind. It's going to take some time and I'll probably walk away with a rusty nail, but I've started - so I'll finish.


Too much sun and hard graft .. escaping the discomfort of stinging perspiration my mind wanders back to past expeditions carried out under severely cooler conditions ...


All wrapped up and walking the lonely windswept beach in January a whole world of imagined possibilities unfolds. Thoughts of shipwrecks and ancient cargos colour my intent; but on stooping to retrieve an interesting looking object from an icy clear rock pool, it becomes instantly apparent just how cold the sea is at this time of year. As the bitter bite of the freezing water snaps at my fingers, I often wonder how the stricken sailors of yesteryear ever survived the treacherous waters of the North Wales coastline.

January is the cruellest month and history returns a grim picture. Yet it seems that our forbears were definitely a hardier breed - some people did actually survive the sub zero temperatures of the bitter seas. On New Year's Eve 1845  a brave young lad from Anglesey's Holy Island, single-handedly saved the ship ALHAMBRA and all its crew from certain disaster. Legend has it that he saw the ship heading for the rocks at Rhoscolyn, and knowing the coastline well, jumped into the icy waters and swam out to a rock. He tore his jacket from his body and used it as a flag to wave to the men onboard the ship, directing them around the peninsular to the security of the bay. It's hard to imagine that anyone would be brave enough to do that today - we'd be more likely to film the disaster on the mobile.

BRAVING THE STORM

On the night of October 25th 1859, the coastline saw the worst night in Welsh seafaring history. In what has become known as the Royal Charter Storm, 223 vessels were wrecked and almost 800 lives were lost, but it's probably the luxury steam clipper the Royal Charter that remains the most haunting wreck of them all. That fateful journey from Melbourne to Liverpool should have been a triumphant return for the entrepreneurs who had made their fortunes in the gold fields of Australia - instead, 450 souls perished, along with their money, on the rocks near Moelfre. The Royal Charter carried a bullion cargo of £322,440 in ingots and bags of gold dust, and it's believed that she may have been carrying a further £150,000 in sovereigns which belonged to the passengers. Stories abound of gold coinage scattered far and wide, like seashells, over the foreshore at Lligwy Bay; and to this day Anglesey folklore tells of local salvagers who stored large amounts of sovereigns inside soot blackened kettles, which were hung inconspicuously over the fire, so as to avoid being spotted by HM Customs and Excise.

No-one knows just how much gold from the Royal Charter still remains at the bottom of the sea, everything from cabin doors to candlesticks have been turned up from around the northern shore of Moelfre Head. Clay pipes and coins, glass bottles and shoe buckles are the stuff that dreams are made of - these are the tantalising treasures that will keep you warm when you're wondering why the hell you're out on your own braving the elements. 　　　
　

Blue Island

Then rose from sea to sky the wild farewell,
Then shrieked the timid, and stood still the brave,
Then some leaped overboard with dreadful yell,
As eager to anticipate their grave. - LORD BYRON.



This is a journey. It's all about history really, and the fact that we feel somehow driven to express our relationship with the sea. Not to paint its glittering surface or plunder its depths, but to seek out a new nature created from the debris deposited by human disaster.

Here's the fun .. we  are searching for hidden treasure and then we find it.  After the folly and desire of forgotten ages there's little left to ponder, save an occasional piece of driftwood or a faded pottery sherd washed up on the seashore. Fantastic and enigmatic, these corroded fragments from the past are mine and yours - they are immediately our finds - the relationship has formed, the bonding with a bit of wood and clay is instant. Reconstructed by decay and the passage of time they are thrown up by the sea for our discovery and subsequent use in some creative medium, and this is where the journey begins .... we are artists now and this work is about to become our own man-made history.