I knew it was cold. The evidence of the frosted grasses and the snow on the higher Downs away from the sea was evidence enough of temperatures reaching minus 8 or 9 in the night, and still well below zero as I walked. I dressed for it – fur hat, the thick Norwegian coat given to me for walking through the snow at North Cape in the depth of winter, but not gloves – using cameras and gloves I find difficult – I believe some call it ‘suffering for one’s art’. Walking is my chosen exercise task, and the bright sunshine and clarity of air today tempted me to stretch out with the cameras to see what visual wonders the coast had for me to see.
As I walked the path down to the Cuckmere I noticed how it was deteriorating. A major path in the South Downs National Park used by an estimated 350,000 people a year, the Park Authority denies all responsibility for its maintenance – another bunch of arses we pay for from our taxes who excel in doing nothing for their money. Careful where I was putting my feet I stopped frequently, not just to take photographs but in the sheer pleasure of the landscape.
The sheep grazed, their woollen coats insulating them from the cold. A rookery provides a raucous music in the morning air, individual birds posing adroitly atop posts whilst dunnocks hunted seeds on the ground below unperturbed by passing walkers, many local, exercising their dogs.
The view down the path has been featured on one iteration of Windows and used in hundreds of TV and music productions, but every time I come down I seem able to find a new image. Today was no exception, but I also noticed a curious sort of vapour rising from the sea. I wondered whether it was pollution from the Cuckmere, but the only industry I know of that uses its waters, besides tourism, is the breweries it nurtures, Harveys in Lewes, some craft brewers including my favourite, the Long Man brewery in Littlington.
I said “Is the sea really steaming” to a fellow walker going back to his car. I doubted my eyes – when you get old you frequently doubt what you see or hear as the world goes increasingly insane. I was not mistaken, however. The colour of the water, paler for quite a way out from the Cuckmere River mouth as fresh water entered the ocean, was indeed steaming. It was not the result of any industrial discharges though, for I looked it up when I returned home, and read:
“Sea smoke occurs when the air mass is so cold it makes water steam, similar to the steam form a kettle or a hot bath. Sometimes referred to as Steam fog or arctic sea smoke”
It was however, the first time I have seen this phenomenon. It may be common in Icelandic (known as ‘Dalalæða’ or Dale-cat). or Norwegian waters, although I have never seen it there, but quite unexpected off the Sussex coast, and a testament to the run of temperatures below zero we have been experiencing in recent days.
With the cold we have had heavy mists but today was bright and clear and warranted on of my testing walks stretching my mobility and part of my challenge to hold back the effects of ageing/arthritis/etc. etc., (take your pick) and keep being creative and enjoying the beauty of the world around me. I have been in combat with my own body for most of my life it seems, but since beating back cancer (another test looms) ageing has entered the ring on the deficit side. With work in the studio curtailed by arthritic hands the cameras have become my creative tool of choice.
Walking is my chosen exercise task, and the bright sunshine and clarity of air today tempted me to stretch out with the cameras to see what visual wonders the coast had for me to see. I am a happy snapper, catching the moment, not agonising over the perfect shot, simply following my eye and knowing I can work on the images in the studio and, God willing, maybe work them up into paintings as I did with my ‘BRotS’ series. For now though, it was pleasure seeking of the kind I imagine Monet did as he walked around the ponds he created.
So now my brain steams as I sort out taking some ideas forward without making a step back…
Recent Comments