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Satellite Navigation

Satellite Navigation

A sudden concern for an unfamiliar sky

Kathryn Tann's avatar
Kathryn Tann
Jun 17, 2024
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It would have been so easy not to go: to simply say, it’s late, I’m tired – another time, perhaps. But other times are not in plentiful supply these days. My partner Andrew and I both live in Yorkshire, a solid six-hour drive from this little house on the edge of the Pembrokeshire Coast National Park. It’s rare, now, that I’m able to come here, and even rarer for us both to be here together. So, despite the weariness accumulated from the weeks’ family activities, the day’s sun and the evening’s food, we lace on our shoes and go out into the darkening night.

This is an old ritual, fixed into my bones while they were still soft and growing. On a clear night, my three big siblings and I – in a rare unified adventure – would climb into the car and chase yellow headlight beams through the tunnelled lanes. Often Dad would park in the village and we would walk the rest of the way through the woods; creeping the narrow path along the Lily Ponds, under the hunch of trees dangling into the black water.

Those evenings were electric. They have remained sharp in my mind: sharper than most other childhood memories. My senses were wide open. Thrilled with the dark unknown beyond our torch lights, we followed our Dad with borrowed bravery, lifting our torches every now and then to catch the jagged shapes of bat wings overhead.

Eventually – though it was actually just less than a miles’ walk – we would break out of the trees and cross a humped stone bridge. It was here, under the open sky, that we would turn off our torches. In the dark our senses would turn up another notch. The air carried a known tang. Listening closely, we could hear the slow collapse of waves. We had arrived at Broadhaven South Beach, and we were there for the stars.

It's must be ten years since I last made this night-time pilgrimage to the coast. For years, after my siblings took their turns to move out, it was just Dad and I. Going out together after dinner, standing, pensive, on the vast empty beach: talking about deep space, stretched time, and unknown infinities. Tonight, we’re sharing it with Andrew for the first time.

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