Spring tide, February 2018

Today was the highest tide of the month, one of the highest of the year (11.5m!) and I pulled myself of out bed to get to the very end of the Harbour, by the Entrance Lock, for 9:20 and the high point.   I know that doesn’t sound like much, but on a grey, dreich Saturday in February, it’s a big deal.  Especially with the Chocolate Path closed.  Especially in the rain.  But wow, I’m glad I did!

Clifton Suspension Bridge, spring tide

Cumberland Basin, high tide

River, refelctions

When I got to the river, it was still, that moment of balance that I love, and wish I could find in myself.  It’s always a rush to get as many shots as possible in that time, and I was cursing because I’d once again forgotten the cameras I wanted to bring, spare film etc.   But it was lovely.  I lay on the edge of the Harbour, putting an underwater camera in the river (it’s so much better doing that in summer) and watched the way the misty rainclouds moved through the trees.

I think my favourite part was standing on the Entrance Lock gate, and watching the water move.  By this time the tide had turned, and the water, which had flooded over the top of the lock gate, was rushing back out to re-join the river, bringing clouds of silt.  I only had my phone to take films, but this makes me very happy:

The clouds of silt always look so magical, and I could have watched this for days.  I walked on around the Harbour, and had other adventures too – but those will be in my next podcast…

 

Moon-watching

Yesterday was the last day of January, and the special-blue-blood-moon, or whatever the hashtag is.  I’d loved it all the way home, running across roads to try (fail) to take photos – so when I got home, I persuaded Vik we should go and see if we could see what it looked like over the river.

It was COLD, the water choppy in the wind, and dark, with the moonlight rippling on the wavelets.  High tide, coming up to spring tide tomorrow, and apparently the highest tide of the year.  With all the recent rain, the Entrance Lock gates were open, and the Cumberland Basin so full.  We walked through Greville Smyth Park in the dark, feeling for the path with our feet, to the very end of the Harbour to look at the water.  Of course it made me miss the Chocolate Path more than ever, and that is always going to cast a pall on any river walk – but I’m really happy I did this, instead of just collapse on the sofa.

I’m waiting for my film photos to come back, though not hopefully, as 100iso on a point & shoot without a tripod is not the best way to take photos in the dark (…) but here are three from my mobile phone, lit by the streetlight.   I loved how the collapsing piers by the Entrance Lock became islands in the water, and how easy it was to forget how incredibly deep the river was.

The collapsing piers, like islands at high tide

Public art, collapsing pier

Night Avon, high tide