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.
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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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