LAND 51 I crouched behind the church bell tower, sheltering from the gale that screamed in from the Northwest. I tried to make a quick sketch of the church but struggled mightily with the gusting wind. Inside the church, protected by thick stone walls, I could make out activity and a warm orange light.
I left the shelter of the churchyard and headed northwest into the teeth of the windstorm. I stopped briefly at a ‘crazy golf’ course, built in the shape of Bornholm, and including scale models of many of Bornholm’s landmarks and tourist attractions. It seemed quite fitting, after having walked around the island for the last 51 weeks, to be gifted with the opportunity to have the whole of Bornholm laid out in front of me.
I continued for a while, then stopped again at another of the island’s better-known tourist attractions – Bornholm’s medieval centre. I used to visit many years ago in the summer when the kids were small when there would be shows, workshops, and activities – and throngs of tourists. Now, of course, the site was closed and as I wandered around the replica fort and wattle and daub houses, past the rare-breed sheep and tiny rocky fields, muddy and forlorn in the biting wind, it seemed almost as if I had stepped back into the Middle Ages. Fitting as well, after 51 weeks of passing through so many historic sites and pondering the passing of time, that I was now gifted with such an immersive historical experience.
I carried on, taking a narrow road that followed the shoulder of a granite ridge ‘Lens Bjerge’, with good views to the south and east.
I passed through a small wood, somewhat protected while the wind roared in the treetops swaying above me. At the foot of the ridge I crouched down tried to paint.
It was a struggle managing all my gear in the wind, so I decided to see if I could work with the elements instead. I soaked some grass ends in watercolour paint and let them make marks on the paper. An invigorating detour, but the results were unsatisfactory.
I continued, walking northeast towards Salene Bugt, then doubling back into the relative shelter of Gudhjem plantation. Here I paused by the picturesque small lake of Gråmyr, as the sun battled to break through the clouds and the wind began to reduce in intensity.
I continued through Holkadalen and then up into the maze of small roads and jumbled houses with views down to the village of Gudhjem below. At one point the sun came out and the rooves of Gudhjem were lit red against the stormy sea and dramatic sky.
At Gudhjem museum, where I hope to exhibit some of the paintings from the LAND exhibition in six months’ time, I paused by two of my favourite Bornholmian sculptures: ‘Klo’ by Inge Lise Westman, and ‘Aaboen’ by Julie Høm.
The shortest day of the year, and I was exhausted and completely wind-addled. I finished the day by Melsted Stubmølle, a tiny post mill that was originally located at Aarsdale, before being moved to Tejn and then in 2006 moved to Melsted. The dramatic sky reflected my mood, and the day was done.
LAND 51
WEATHER REPORT – Overcast and very windy. Temperature 3 – 4 degrees. Wind 13 – 17 m/s, from the west. Hours of precipitation: 0.5 hours. Hours of sunshine: 0.5 hour.
STOPS with the BIVVY – 0
KILOMETRES WALKED – 12.49 km
DAY LASTED – 7 h and 16 m
PEOPLE TALKED TO – 1
BIRDS SEEN and HEARD – 25 species (0 new = 135 species in total)
LESSONS LEARNED – Forgot my gloves again. I learned that I learn nothing.
IN MY HEAD – When I wasn’t cursing the wind I was thinking of departed artist friends, Greg and Barbara.
On the shore, two women on horseback thundered up and down the beach, laughing with an unbridled abandon. Just when I thought the morning couldn’t get any more spectacular, a lone kingfisher darted out and flew low, dart like, over the surface of the mirrored sea, and disappeared into the sea mist. 
When the kingfisher returned and perched on a nearby rock I resolved to not paint and just soak in the atmosphere instead. I couldn’t though, and soon got overinvolved with a reflective gull. 
The previous week I had been teaching a field painting course at Bornholm’s Højskole, and the lessons of the week were still fresh in my memory. I tried to not get too upset with the reflective gull disaster, and just carry on (‘…don’t judge and keep working’). I lost myself in some herring gulls feeding in the bay, the sea mist long having been burned off by the rising sun. 
Before moving off from my perch at the end of the pier, where I had now been for many hours, I tackled the solar reflections on the surface of the water. I wanted to show how the green seaweed, rocks and innumerable jellyfish below the surface of the water replaced the reflections of the sky towards the bottom of the visual plane, but failed. 
I finally packed my things and started to walk on Balka beach towards Snogbæk, the day’s destination. I stopped again rather quickly, wanting to capture the sweep of the bay, with Snogbæk pier in the far distance. 
As I was painting, the first flocks of graylag geese flew overhead, returning to spend the day at Nexø Sydstrand, last week’s start point. I quickly drew the mutating shape of a large flock of several hundred geese, as it passed by. 
As I continued walking along the beach my eye was caught by the rills, folds and patterns in the sand caused by the action of the waves lapping at the shore, together with the tracery left by mica, crushed mussels and seaweed. A sandbank created a lagoon of completely still water that reflected the clouds scudding by in the dynamic skyscape. I made two studies (see also top) 
I carried on along the beach all the way to the end of the bay at Snogbæk, where I set up the M60 and had lunch and a really good sleep. On waking I looked towards Salthammer Odde, the great shelf of grey balka sandstone that juts out from Snogbæk and continues under the sea, attracting a rich diversity of sealife and birds. All week with the students we had been concentrating on tonal values and working with ink, which I had bought along. I tried to capture the movement of the feeding frenzy on a bank of seaweed, where gulls, geese, crows, pigeons and starling all worked together feverishly, hoovering up sandflies and the like. 
I worked again with the ink, trying to capture the dynamic shapes and silhouettes and making inky marks with sticks, feathers and seaweed. 
I packed my things and walked on to Snogbæk, taking time out to look and listen before continuing with painting again. I turned my back to the town, an eclectic and unpretentiousness mixture of tourist cafes, bars, summer houses and fishermen’s’ huts, and looked instead towards the sea. After a detour to the local supermarket I sat on the sandstone bedrock, hidden amongst the vegetation, and looked with my scope towards the multitude of gulls preening, sleeping and standing stoically in the early evening breeze. 
The day finished quickly and I had no time to draw the six curlew that arrived just as the sun was setting and my lift arrived.
I had the most amazing 10 days on 
Really the most amazing week in Aberlady, Scotland (the following is summary I sent to SWLA for their website)
A quick word on the places we visited. On the first day I couldn’t understand why everyone was getting so worried about the weather, and whether or not we would get to visit Bass Rock. Surely it couldn’t be that good? It was, and then some. I will never forget my two days on the Bass – deafening noise, an unholy stench, a stinging wind, and gannets as far as the eye could see – truly an other-worldly place. St Abbs head was almost its equal, an incredible collection of cliffs and rocks that, after a day or two of drawing, you couldn’t help taking home with you.
This Spring I’ve been visiting a place called Vang, here on the island of Bornholm. Vang is the site of a large granite quarry, which is still operational today – though in a very limited sense. Peregrines returned to Bornholm early this century, after an absence of 50 years or so, and this year a pair decided to nest on one of the ledges of rock in the Vang Quarry. 
Once I found out about this I’ve been visiting regularly and watched the chicks grow from dirty white balls of fluff to fully fledged apex predators. The peregrines were kind enough to nest on a ledge where they were easy to see. In fact, the spot where I sketched them was stable, sheltered from the wind and afforded fantastic views. Perfect. 
Actually, I was surprised just by how still the falcons were, once they had fed the chicks, and sometimes hours went by with little or no movement. Not that I would ever criticise a bird for being too still, but sometimes I forgot about the birds and became more interested in the way the shadows moved over the rocks with the passing of the day.
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