An Affair with the Sea
Costa del Eastbourne
It seems everyone living next to the coastline started swimming in the sea over lockdown. I even heard seasoned wild swimmers complaining about the crowded waters nowadays. I was one of the newbies. Momentarily, I think I now can’t remember why I started....but with a couple of seconds thought I can remember that after 10 months of lockdowns and uncertainty, and heading into another lockdown in January - one of the coldest, darkest, dankest, saddest months of the year (the other being February) - I felt the urge. I had seen a friend had been swimming, so that is where the seed was sown, and the constant stuck-ness of Covid-life produced the desire to go and do something. To do something that for me, was extra-ordinary. I think I wanted to experience FEELING again. Something to physically snap me back into myself, my body! Life! Being alive! I couldn’t have expressed this at the time, but now I can look back with perspective this is what I see. At the time, I just thought, “why not?”.
You can see the sea from our lounge window. I have been an observer for 10 years. The beach was one of the first places I felt I could relax with our first child - after the pebble eating phase passed. We’ve combed the rock pools at low tide and sometimes I run along the prom. But the inconvenience and faff of going in to the water meant I always avoided it. Too much bother to get in, wet clothes, cold water, sand sticking to the feet...nah. It would not have felt enjoyable to participate in something that just created more work to do. I forgot that freedoms first concern isn’t economical and sensible decision making.
The first time I went in I was so aware of how I would react that I made myself panic. The sea was extremely cold (even in January it would get colder until March) and I had no idea what effect that would have on my body. I had borrowed a surfing jacket from a friend who had agreed to chaperone me which definitely helped, though when you’ve never done this before there’s not much that can stop the COLDCOLDCOLDCOLDCOLD mental soundtrack. I managed a panicky doggy paddle of a few meters before heading in and getting changed. I was cold all over but happy I’d done it. I went back again the following week. As I gradually became used to the cold and how I would react to it I become more confident. Much of this was learning what the sea feels like - how big are the swells and waves that I can deal with? And what I feel like in the sea - how to breathe, how to know when I was cold enough and it was time to get out, when to stay in a little longer. I learnt to take notice, watching the sea as I walked along the prom to our meeting spot - the sea can change so quickly! Even in the time it took to change on the beach the sea sometimes became much rougher or sometimes smooth out to a fine tilth. I’ve grown up with a healthy (I think) respect for the sea and wild water, so it was a surprise to me to feel so much fun and joy in it! Some of the best swims are when the sea is becoming rough with the larger swells that feels intimidating as the waves break on the shoreline, but a couple of meters in feel like the world is lifting you up in the air to give you the bumps. You can feel like a child again in the arms of the world!
Now I sneak in as often as I can, which is a lot less now lockdown has eased so much. I eye up the sea from the windows, when on the beach, along the prom and check the tide times often so I can get in again. As the weather gets warmer I find it harder to get in - if you’re frozen to the bone on the beach you may as well submit to the water and get on with it. With the warmer air the change in temperature on entering the water is so much greater it has become more difficult to get in at all! But the split second where I think shall-I-really-do-this-or-shall-I-just-get-out-I-didn’t-really-want-to-do-this-did-I is also the moment determination kicks in and I know I can’t give in to a moment of comfort for the 10 minutes of freedom, life-giving, wave riding JOY that is in the water.
My final thought is to write down to remember that this is play. This is exploring and being part of a process I haven’t mapped out myself or can follow someone else’s map for. This is reactive, responsive experience and I am glad for it and I am better for it. This is learning.
I took the children up to a wonderful hill near us last week, promising a good slope for rolling down. Then Astrid walked knee deep in buttercups all the way down, revelling it the gold and beauty with no other thought on her mind whilst I kept diligently to the path. There is no path in the sea. Perhaps the next challenge is to find other ways of leaving the path on land.
You don’t have to go skinny dipping to be a client, FYI.