The train hesitates as if to pluck up courage to make its long crossing of the Barmouth Bridge over the Mawddach estuary. The wooden viaduct looks precarious against its mountain backdrop. The bridge was built over 150 years ago by Victorian engineers who sunk iron piers into the estuary's shifting sand and gravel to support the timber trestles which carry the track. I look down and see footprints on the sandbanks. The incoming tide is swelling the pewter-coloured water of the Mawddach river.
Suddenly I have a sense of recognition, not just of the physical presence of the place (I've crossed this bridge by train three times before) but also of a passage in W G Sebald's Austerlitz.
Austerlitz is recollecting memories of seeing Barmouth Bay when "the separate surfaces of sand and water, sea and land, earth and sky could no longer be distinguished".
I look out of the window and see the wooden pedestrian walkway which runs alongside the railway bridge. Austerlitz recalls a specific memory of walking out one evening along this footbridge. He describes the incoming tide "gleaming like a dense shoal of mackerel, flowing under the bridge and up the river, so swift and strong that you might have thought you were going the other way out to the open sea in a boat. We all four sat together in silence until the sun had set ... large numbers of swallows were swooping through the air."
It's a beautiful lyrical description but it's also a poignant memory of a lost time in Austerlitz's life. The swallows seem to emphasise the ephemeral, and the brevity of existence. "It was the very evanescence of these visions that gave me, at the time, something like a sense of eternity," says Austerlitz.
The poet Lee Harwood often visited this area of north west Wales. He wrote in "Cwm Nantcol" of those
" ... Seeming timeless moments
when stood here in the sweep of the mountains."
[W G Sebald Austerlitz (Penguin paperback 2011edition) p 135-6]