Today we walked the track from Embleton to Low Newton (Lisa having set out from Beadnell, me with the car up in Embleton). The gappy teeth of Dunstanburgh castle lie to the south, and along the beach are array after array of glinting rockpools, tempting walkers off-route from their pleasant afternoon ambles along the beach in the unexpected sun. I watch families with youngsters and nets and buckets, three blokes carrying mountain-bikes high in the air across rocks, and a couple of older women in pink and fawn slacks who stumble across to stare into the pools – as do we.
It’s compelling to squint into the alien mini-worlds, crouched precariously above, and there’s usually some kind of reward: a glimpse of a tiny flat-fish that suddenly makes the sandy bottom twitch with life – only to disappear completely in sandy camouflage when it stops; an anemone, half-in half-out – upper half a strawberry jam blob, below the water pink tentacle fronds.
Today’s images are of the rockpool looking back – self-portrait views from above and below. As strange and wonderful as it is to look in, the watery worlds present a new view as a rockpool self that makes me smile.