Silence at Ramsey Island
Less than 1 km off the coast of Pembrokeshire lies another realm, immersed in solitude and confronted with a landscape unchanged since the last Ice Age. Upon landing, words were uttered in hushed tones as we slowly discovered we were alone. Soaring seabirds reinforced our gravity; some followed us and helped define the edge. Walks took us to the South Western tip of the island, where large red sandstone boulders the size small islands seem to have been tossed carelessly into the sea by the last legends of Wales. Here, within earshot, resting and unseen in the caverns below, the uneasy calls of grey Atlantic seals rise up like mythic Norse legends and fill the dense, moist mist of the day. Space loses its depth, sliced only by a solitary peregrine. The irrelevance of our existence comes forth from the stillness of white. Nature does its thing with glorious existential indifference and we agree in a moment of rest on a landscape of lichen. This is the magic of the real - this is life.