Sea People

It had to happen one day. Thousands of beach-hours spent pounding the sand into glass powder in search of the past, made almost inevitable the possibility that I might eventually come face to face with it.

In terms of natural resources, this rocky sand belt has everything that you’d need to survive, and I have often wondered about its tenacious offspring - the people who once lived down there, in the caves and behind the waterfalls.

Where there’s a crossing there will always be good business – on both sides of the water – and even though the tides have repeatedly thrashed the old trading grounds, evidence of money exchanging hands still survives in rock pools and sand-soaked clumps of seaweed.

It wasn’t a brilliant return as far as treasure hunting goes -  a couple of shoe buckles and a corroded penny - but the weather was fine and the atmosphere was almost rarefied, so it didn’t seem to matter.  Sometimes it feels as if someone is standing between the big rocks, and on a good day you can fair feel the eyes of history upon you.

So there I was, crouched down on the sand, scratching around in the pebbles – concentration level maximum -  and then ... suddenly a hand presses down on my shoulder, and a husky male voice whispers closely in my ear,” Who are you?”

What happens next is predictable: a sharp intake of breath; military-style body roll; frantic grapple for spade, mobile and finds-bag. I desperately scrambled to my feet and spun around, attempting to take up a sort defensive stance.  Futile. There was no-one there.

Can’t remember the order of my feelings as I stood there alone on the shoreline: confused; uneasy; amazed; incredulous - I guess I felt them all at once. The seagulls were screeching overhead and the wind was blowing off the sea in just same way that it had been before I heard the spirit-voice. Everything was unchanged, except that I was trembling slightly and feeling just a little silly for having been ‘caught out’.  I expect that this sort of experience is par for the course when you’re seeking out the personal effects of people long lost to this world.

@beeadamsart   : beeadamsart.co.uk : @carolynwarburton

Child Lost

After the big storm the sand was strewn with shoe leather. Boots, clogs, heels and straps - lying soggy, in rock pools and clumps of seaweed. Nothing too surprising about that, given that this stretch of beach was once the old Beaumaris town dump.

A tiny right shoe was sitting on the end of my workbench for days - drying out slowly. Measuring just 15cms, and still intact with all boot nails present, it was in wonderful condition, but every time I passed by it I found myself pausing for a moment and going back for a second look - something wasn't quite right.

The people of Beaumaris were pretty poor during the 17th and 18th centuries and nothing of value was ever thrown away or discarded. This boot had only the slightest signs of wear and would definitely have been handed down to the next generation - so what was it doing in the sea?

I decided to go back to the beach, in the hope that I might pick up a few clues from the other bits and pieces which were washing up on the shoreline. It was midday and the boatyard was in full swing. As I walked down the slipway I saw Boatyard - Dave cutting across in  my direction with a handful of bent copper and old rope. "Want these?" he asked. I took them gratefully and started to explain my reason for being there that particular day. He listened thoughtfully and then pointed towards a pile of rocks next to a newly dug trench. "See that rubble over there ... it's the remains of an old quarantine station. I remember when I was a boy, a very old man used to work here on the boatyard, and he said that his father once told him about the people who had been forcibly landed on Gallows Point because they were too sick to travel on the ships bound for America - maybe your shoe leather belonged to them."

@beeadamsart   :   www.beeadamsart.co.uk

     

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Need more space ...

Trying hard to pack up studio but still can't prevent visiting artists from setting up shop!