Across the mud banks

We’re disappointed by the grey skies and drizzle that accompany our walk this afternoon, this morning’s brilliant sunshine having vanished. It seems brighter out towards the Orme, but then I catch a glimpse of dark silver stretching  across the river and in that instant our plans change. Sometimes grey skies offer something blue skies just cannot. 

The dark silver is the deeper water of the river, a ribbon growing ever thinner as it flows out to the sea, draining the estuary basin until only the mudflats remain. I need to act quickly before the still reflections vanish leaving the moored boats leaning roguishly in the sticky mud. Even now, the thick mud banks emerge, deeply etched with winding drainage channels, curlews and oyster catchers wading at the edge. 

This is the perfect moment to capture the little harbour town, nestled between sea and mountain, overlooked by Edward’s castle and safely held within its thick thirteenth century walls, allegedly the most intact in Europe.