These waters are never still. The perpetual motion of the tides carries drowned sailors south from Cape Wrath to rest on the shores of haunted Sandwood Bay.
I think of Lycidas drowned
in Milton’s mind.
How elegantly he died. How langourously
in those baroque currents. No doubt
sea nymphs wavered round him
in melodious welcome.
And I think of Roddy drowned
Off Cape Wrath, gulping
fistfuls of salt, eyes bursting, limbs thrashing
the ponderous green. – No elegance here,
nor in the silent welcome
of conger and dogfish and crab.
Norman MacCaig – Sea change, January 1978
Many thanks Cate – a little wilder than the Jersey Shore 😉 (and more inaccessible).
Many thanks, much appreciated.
Such peaceful and powerful images to accompany this poem. Perfect.
Many thanks Cindi – you can rely on MacCaig for fine words about such places.
the sea can be so wonderful …and so cruelty the same time… Think we should visit our beach too as long as we are nearly alone there :o)
Best watched from the shore rather than among the waves 🙂
Thanks. Powerful images and words. McCaig really doesn’t waste a word! Regards Thom.
Exactly right Thom – honed to perfection.
Looks like an unforgiving shore. Is this the land mentioned in Golf in the Wild where you said you’d never spend the night?
The very same – well remembered (although in truth, the reluctance probably has more to do with discomfort than haunting 😉 )
The final shot is very fine indeed
Many thanks Graham – it took about a dozen exposures to get the waves breaking against the dark cliffs (otherwise the effect is lost against the sky). And I got my feet wet for the second 🙂
Love these photos, Robin. How was the book tour? 🙂
Many thanks Jo. The tour was a great success but for various reasons it has been hectic since we returned – hence my lack of posts and only irregular access to the Reader. Hope all is well with you and yours and hopefully I should be back to more regular WordPress activity soon. All the best, Robin.