
Untitled
These untitled photos were taken at Pett Level beach. The tide was coming in, and the waves splashing gently against the worn stumps of the sea defences.
They can be viewed full size on my Flickr page by clicking on them.
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These untitled photos were taken at Pett Level beach. The tide was coming in, and the waves splashing gently against the worn stumps of the sea defences.
They can be viewed full size on my Flickr page by clicking on them.
I was sat on Pett Level beach one afternoon late last summer. The tide was coming in, so too was a sea mist. Fairlight hill was slowly becoming obscured by it. The mist veiled the sun replacing vibrant colours with muted ones. The groynes turned into silhouettes. It was calm and relaxing watching the changing light.
With each wave lapping on the beach, the groynes were slipping slowly under water. I took this photo at that moment.
Like the Harbour Arm, Hastings Pier is also under constant pressure from the sea. Yet although the pier seems much frailer than the solid concrete harbour arm, it relies on clever design rather than brute strength. The core structure of the pier has stayed pretty strong since it’s construction in 1872.
In its original design the end nearest the shore was forked. This design helps to break up the waves during heavy seas. The architect, Eugenius Birch, created a screw system to ensure that the pilings provided the strongest support for the structure. He applied it in all of the 14 piers he designed.
In 1898 Hastings Pier produced a net profit of £3612,. 3s 9d which is roughly the equivalent of £360,000 in today’s money. Could that happen after the pier reopens in 2014? Any profit would be a great achievement.
Hastings Pier is looking for sponsors to help support its redevelopment. You can adopt a plank by clicking on this link.
View this picture full size on my Flickr page by clicking on it.
Hastings Harbour Arm takes a battering during a storm. This is another photograph taken during the session mentioned in my recent post.
I don’t know what it is about the Harbour Arm, but it has a presence that goes beyond being a great lump of concrete. Even though its an inanimate object there is something noble about the way it takes the punishment when the waves are like this.
Sometimes, during the times I’m out taking photographs, I come back only to find that most of the pictures haven’t turned out as I’d hoped. A photo might look ok on the camera screen, but when viewed full size it just doesn’t work. On other days it’s the opposite and every picture turns out as expected.
This photo was taken on the same day as the original Sunrise on a Windy Day, By the Seaside, and Hastings, Surfers Paradise.
I was struggling to find something to write about this photo, so I looked for some appropriate poetry instead. I found a verse by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, a prolific American poet who lived between 1807 and 1882. I wondered if by chance he’d ever been to Hastings during his travels through Europe. That cannot be confirmed, however he did write two poems that mention the town. One is called ‘Hastings‘ about the battle and another called ‘The Warden of the Cinque Ports‘.
Ah! what pleasant visions haunt me
As I gaze upon the sea!
All the old romantic legends,
All my dreams, come back to me.
Sails of silk and ropes of sandal,
Such as gleam in ancient lore;
And the singing of the sailors,
And the answer from the shore!
Most of all, the Spanish ballad
Haunts me oft, and tarries long,
Of the noble Count Arnaldos
And the sailor’s mystic song.
Like the long waves on a sea-beach,
Where the sand as silver shines,
With a soft, monotonous cadence,
Flow its unrhymed lyric lines;–
Telling how the Count Arnaldos,
With his hawk upon his hand,
Saw a fair and stately galley,
Steering onward to the land;–
How he heard the ancient helmsman
Chant a song so wild and clear,
That the sailing sea-bird slowly
Poised upon the mast to hear,
Till his soul was full of longing,
And he cried, with impulse strong,–
‘Helmsman! for the love of heaven,
Teach me, too, that wondrous song!’
‘Wouldst thou,’–so the helmsman answered,
‘Learn the secret of the sea?
Only those who brave its dangers
Comprehend its mystery!’
In each sail that skims the horizon,
In each landward-blowing breeze,
I behold that stately galley,
Hear those mournful melodies;
Till my soul is full of longing
For the secret of the sea,
And the heart of the great ocean
Sends a thrilling pulse through me.
Ah! what pleasant visions haunt me
As I gaze upon the sea!
All the old romantic legends,
All my dreams, come back to me.
Sails of silk and ropes of sandal,
Such as gleam in ancient lore;
And the singing of the sailors,
And the answer from the shore!
Most of all, the Spanish ballad
Haunts me oft, and tarries long,
Of the noble Count Arnaldos
And the sailor’s mystic song.
Like the long waves on a sea-beach,
Where the sand as silver shines,
With a soft, monotonous cadence,
Flow its unrhymed lyric lines;–
Telling how the Count Arnaldos,
With his hawk upon his hand,
Saw a fair and stately galley,
Steering onward to the land;–
How he heard the ancient helmsman
Chant a song so wild and clear,
That the sailing sea-bird slowly
Poised upon the mast to hear,
Till his soul was full of longing,
And he cried, with impulse strong,–
‘Helmsman! for the love of heaven,
Teach me, too, that wondrous song!’
‘Wouldst thou,’–so the helmsman answered,
‘Learn the secret of the sea?
Only those who brave its dangers
Comprehend its mystery!’
In each sail that skims the horizon,
In each landward-blowing breeze,
I behold that stately galley,
Hear those mournful melodies;
Till my soul is full of longing
For the secret of the sea,
And the heart of the great ocean
Sends a thrilling pulse through me.
Hastings is not known as a surfer’s paradise because it is not one. But when the wind is strong and blowing in the right direction and the tide is in there is, if you are inclined, a chance to surf. You will be confined to a stretch of beach about 50 meters in width at the end of the Stade. There the waves are compressed against the sea wall and grow in height as they race towards the beach. You’ll have about 5 seconds to enjoy the thrill of riding the wave.
I’d been on the beach for about half an hour before I noticed these guys doing their thing. They jump in, ride the waves for as long as they can before being washed up. Then they walk round to start again.
As I hung over the railing to take these photographs in the stiff November wind I wondered “What possesses these men to get up early in the morning and hurl themselves into cold, rough seas? “. The reason was evident in their rosy faces as they walked past; they were exhilarated by it.
You can view each of these photos full size on my Flickr page by clicking on them.
The alarm going off an hour before sunrise. Forcing myself to shake off the desire to stay in the warm and go back sleep. Looking out the window to see if the skies look clear. Creeping about the flat trying not to wake the family up. Every noise from the kettle boiling to zipping up my coat sounding deafening in the quiet. Still deciding where to go as I get in the car.
Why do I do it? Because it’s great to watch the sunrise. You get to witness something different every time. There aren’t many people around. It’s free to park.
Click on the image to view it larger on my Flickr page.
Driving down to the seafront at St Leonards last week I arrived just in time to see and photograph the sunrise. It was nice to see the sun after the dismal weather in recent days. These were taken a a few minutes apart and in slightly different locations. The sun rises too quickly when you are trying to photograph it. In some ways I’m too focussed on the camera to actually appreciate what is unfolding. I guess you either take a photograph or sit back, take it in and record it only in your memory. (Click the pictures to view in Flickr)
The sky was interesting on this morning, making this familiar view of Hastings Pier seem almost unfamiliar. (Click the picture to enlarge)
You can view more posts about the Pier here.