My very first introduction to Wales was Conwy Castle by the sea. Standing right up on the castle ramparts, gazing out at the vast ocean, my mind instantly drifted back to the coast that used to live just down the road from my old place. 

Wales has been incredibly kind to me; I still cherish the lovely memories of hiking up Moel Famau with my dear friend, the breathtaking sunsets where Great Orme meets the sea, and those peaceful strolls along the Llandudno promenade.

This time, we visited Anglesey and Beaumaris . We made our way to the Trwyn Du Lighthouse, and it was absolute love at first sight.

The shores of the Irish Sea here are proper pebble beaches, full of round, smooth stones that are incredibly charming. As wandering closer to the lighthouse, the rocks and tidal pools around it were layered with seaweed in countless shades of green. 

The lighthouse reflected softly on the water’s surface, and I felt as though we could have sat on that pebble beach for an entire day. Unfortunately, time was limited and we could not stay long. But next time — definitely next time — we will return.

Afterward, we had a wander through the town of Beaumaris, watching seagulls glide low over the pier while dogs dashed joyfully into the sea for a swim, even the pups adore this place.

So many people are drawn to the sea. There is something about staring out at the ocean that leaves the mind wandering, as though every worry is carried away by the waves into the distance. 

My previous home was right by the coast. Whenever I went for a jog, my absolute favourite route was down to the nearby shore. It was a quiet spot with a small pier, where only the occasional local walked their dog. I fondly remember Saturday mornings when I’d regularly cross paths with a lady and her Golden Retriever. I’d always stop to say hello, give the dog a quick pat, and then carry on running.

Sometimes, I’d spy someone in chest waders, standing waist-deep right in the middle of the sea. On weekends, the beach grew a bit livelier, with parents bringing their kids to dig for cockles.

I lived there for ten years, and it was where my running habit actually started. Over the decade, my phone captured countless snapshots of that waterfront: the crisp light of a fresh sunrise; autumn and winter days framed by fallen leaves and bare branches along the prom; and glorious golden hours painting the sea with the glow of the setting sun. The place is no longer as peaceful as it once was. New housing estates have cropped up, and the quiet two-lane road has expanded into a busy four-lane dual carriageway.

I now live 9,000 kilometres away, in a place where the nearest coast is at least an hour’s drive. Life has a way of doing that—you win some, you lose some. Yet, the things we think we’ve lost don’t always truly vanish. The most important thing is to cherish what we have right in front of us. Perhaps ten years down the line, I will look back and deeply miss this very moment, right here, right now…