Glorious sunshine on the beach and early morning heavenly swims.

Glorious sunshine and warmth, finally!  My skin is enjoying emerging from the thermals that I have been wearing since last autumn.  There is a spring in my step as I escape from my house into bright sunlight.  Summer has arrived alongside a general sense of relaxation and cheerfulness.  It feels like a mini-break from the long pandemic months we have endured this year. More people seem to say good-morning on my morning walks when the sun is glistening on the sea.  Everything feels just a little better in the sunshine.

There is of course a downside to living in this picturesque, supposedly trendy seaside town.  And that is the sudden arrival of cars, visitors, noise and litter.  It is just part of the package, I know... mostly quiet for nine months of the year and then overcrowded for the warm weeks.  It just feels like a shock each year to my sensitive, nature loving soul.  I crave peace as much as I crave sleep, food and dark chocolate.  During our long lockdowns, I think my body has reset itself to enjoy the emptiness of our roads and beach.  Now things have become busy again I feel rather like my friend's "lockdown puppy" that now barks at the slightest noise and disturbance.  Not that I've yet to start howling, although I feel close to this at times.  My heart also sinks as I notice that some people come to the beach and ruin it with toxic barbecue smoke and disruptive music.  I long to tell them all to connect with nature just as it is and to enjoy the clean, salty fresh air and relaxing sound of the waves.  It is already perfect here, why disturb this?

However, I do understand the human desire to flock to the beach in the sunshine.  With such a limited number of hot days in England, we often associate sunny weather with trips to the beach.  Perhaps it reminds us of happy childhood memories of building sandcastles and eating fish and chips on the beach, without a care in the world.  After a year of feeling anything but carefree, the beach is a perfect respite from the pandemic's endless challenges.  While politicians and scientists argue about the latest variant, case numbers and restrictions, the sea remains limitless and wild.  No matter what is happening in our life, the waves will still ebb and flow in a rhythm that is reassuring and primal.  Being out in nature, away from screens and zoom is always going to be extremely good for our well-being.

In order to find my moment of peace and calm in the sea, I have become an early morning swimmer for the first time.  As I opened my eyes each morning this week, woken by cracks of sunlight, my first thought has been the sea.  I could almost hear the waves beckoning me to emerge from my sleep into the peaceful, empty waters.  This morning it was 7.30 am as I crunched my way over the shingle to the water's edge.  There was grey in the sky for the first time, providing coolness and a scattering of rain.  The morning sea is always cooler, which still appeals as a refreshing, invigorating part of the experience.

As I looked around, I was not totally alone.  Three Herring Gulls were waiting for me as I swam out past the groynes and I could hear the quiet chatter of two local swimmers along the beach.  A paddle-boarder passed me, gliding effortless (or so it appeared) out to sea.  In these warmer waters I can swim a little further out and head to the jetty, a short distance away.  The swim there was easy, assisted by the current which made me feel like I was almost gliding like the paddle-board.  As I turned to come back, I realised the deceptively calm sea was still moving strongly.  It felt like I swam about a hundred strokes to just travel five metres.  But in the warmth of these summer seas, my body felt more mermaid-like and awake rather than tingling with cold.

When I checked the temperature of the water, it was around 15 ℃.  I wondered if it felt more like a warm bath because I have acclimatised through winter swimming?  I then watched someone slowly easing themselves into the sea, gasping and shrieking for at least a couple of minutes!  Does it really feel that cold to the novice swimmer I thought?  Having swum every other day through the whole winter (including frost and snow) summer swimming is very different.  There is less physical challenge obviously and no need for long warm-up sessions with hot drinks afterwards.  But it still feels good, refreshing and freeing to be in the sea.  Maybe we all need a moment of calm connection to nature each day wherever we are.  Especially in these continuing uncertain times.

Comments

  1. Sue WalkerJune 10, 2021 at 9:43 AM

    "I enjoyed reading about summer swimming and how different it is to your winter dips"

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

A wonderful week of nourishment at Cortijo Romero in Spain.

Image
On Easter Saturday (2022) I arrived at the gates of Cortijo Romero in Southern Spain and was greeted by Lelly, the host for the week.  "How was your journey?" she asked kindly.  My answer to this was, "fine, everything had run surprisingly smoothly".  My EasyJet flight wasn't cancelled; there were no long queues at security as shown in the media;  I managed to breath comfortably through my FFP2 face mask for the entire journey (phew) and my digital NHS Covid Pass was accepted.  Having not left England for well over two years, there was definitely more effort needed to remember how to navigate travel again.  An element of uncertainty lingered in the background while making these plans to visit Cortijo Romero, but I accepted this as part of the "new normal" that we are supposedly adjusting to.  And, miraculously, each step of the plan fell into place until I was finally here, in one of the most peaceful and healing places that I know. As I walked around
Read more

How Cortijo Romero, in Spain, is keeping calm and riding the ups and downs of the pandemic.

Image
Early August at Cortijo Romero is normally hot, but a warm breeze allows guests to relax fully under the clear blue summer skies.  Nestled in a lush, fertile valley within the Alpujurra region of southern Spain, Cortijo Romero has been welcoming guests for over three decades.  It describes itself as a personal development or creative holiday centre with a weekly programme that ranges from yoga courses, walking weeks, all kinds of creative expression to more therapeutic courses.  As you arrive at Cortijo Romero (CR) after a long journey, you are greeted by both the warm staff and a deeply nourishing energy that feels like no where else on earth.  It makes me want to breathe more deeply, as if a weight lifts from my shoulders and I arrive back home fully into my own self.  I've been fortunate to visit as a guest a number of times, mostly participating in restful and rejuvenating yoga courses.  I have also worked and lived in this beautiful oasis for two periods as their volunteer
Read more

Making a pilgrimage to lay flowers for the Queen and our collective loss.

Image
I stood in a local supermarket early yesterday morning choosing flowers to lay at Green Park next to Buckingham Palace for the Queen.  I wanted to ask someone for advice or reassurance.  Could I just take a small bunch of carnations that spoke to me, in bright pink or yellow?  Surely for the Queen, I should take a specially made bouquet, with exactly the flowers that she loved?  I reasoned that there would be already a lot of flowers there and that a small, biodegradable gesture would be perfectly acceptable.   Clutching my pink carnations, I followed a number of other people from Victoria Station making their way up to Hyde Park Corner.  Having not been to London since the pandemic began, it already felt strange to be among crowds, traffic and police.  Thankfully I had arrived early and there was plenty of space to walk along the pavement.  Turning into Green Park, however, I suddenly saw hundreds of people all making the same pilgrimage to the flowers.  Drawn by the same force that h
Read more

Coast to coast walk day 5. The last section, reaching the south-east coast of Kent! Walking to support Cortijo Romero in Spain.

Image
Yesterday we finally embarked on the last section of our "coast to coast" walk continuing from our previous stop at the village of Etchinghill on the Elham Valley Way.  This final part of the route would take us all the way to the south-east coast of Kent, finishing on the beach at the seaside town of Hythe.  As with many things during the last 18 months of the pandemic, the walk has not gone to plan.  We intended to walk this section two weeks ago, but my on-going health struggles following my second Pfizer jab had other ideas.  Twenty-four hours after completing our previous section of the walk, I was suddenly ill again with more post-vaccine symptoms.  It has taken until now (alongside my GP's firm instruction to not suddenly over-do the exercise) to feel able to walk this far. Etchinghill was bathed in the most glorious morning light with clear blue skies above us and a definite autumnal chill in the air.  We retraced our steps for a mile or so from our last section a
Read more

Swimming (and walking) in the snow while soaking up the beauty of nature.

Image
I think I might have got hooked on sea swimming, just a little, perhaps?  Last week I saw that snow was forecast and my first thought was "great, I can swim while the beach is covered in snow".  I have been excited for days that our little seaside town might get snow that actually settles on the ground rather than the mushy wet slush we've had.  I've not seen snow for years and while we are starting month FOUR of pretty much "lockdown" in this area, snow is beyond exciting.  It means I can have a mini-adventure right from my house and see the world looking all sparkly and white.  Snow feels like a change, a much needed break from the monotony and routine of these weeks of "staying at home".  I was so excited yesterday morning when I woke expecting swathes of pristine, not-yet-walked-on snow.  As I opened the curtains, my heart sank just a little because the snow wasn't settling.  But there were delicate snowflakes coming down alongside the free
Read more

When life takes an unexpected turn, the sudden passing of my father.

Image
How do I begin?  It was only a little over two weeks ago early on Saturday morning that I heard the phone ring.  I was in the bathroom at that moment, so all I heard was Martin saying "it's your sister, it's your sister, she has to speak to you".  First thing in the morning calls from my sister have never been good news, so I already knew this was about my dad.  I begged the universe for him to be poorly but still with us, so that we could dash to be with him but my wishes were already too late.  He had died peacefully in his sleep at his care home, having had a totally "normal" day previously.  He had been getting weaker in the last few months, but nothing that gave concern. Perhaps the sudden, unexpected part of this loss makes it more difficult for it to sink in.  The weekend passed in an emotional blur with a strange mixture of adrenaline and grief.  I had such a strong impulse to do something, to rush to his side and help.  But there was nothing we coul
Read more

Getting away from it all into the wilds of Herefordshire!

Image
Living in such uncertain times feels draining.  We seem to be reeling from one change to another at such speed.  Even though I am very mindful about what I watch and read in terms of news (very little) it is difficult to not be affected.  I wonder if this is one of the factors that is affecting my immunity and health?  To find some balance and sense of wellness, I recently headed to Herefordshire to get away from it all.  It wasn't the easiest of journeys as I'd just been ill with a stomach bug which was taking time to recover from (although not infectious still).  But I knew I would be okay once I arrived, as this retreat was all about health and rest!  Arriving at The Clover Mill in the torrential chilly rain wasn't the best start, but I could still see the Malvern hills peeping out from the rain clouds.  Clover Mill is a small Ayurvedic retreat centre, where people come to learn about Ayurveda, eat delicious freshly prepared food, do some yoga and be generally nourished
Read more

Learning about how to rest from observing birdlife on the beach.

Image
Living with long covid for the last four or so months has been challenging.  One aspect I'm struggling with is having to rest a lot during the day.  I'm not talking about a short fifteen minute power nap kind of rest, but often an hour at a time (or more) throughout the day.  My current level of fatigue means that this seems to be the only way to be slightly functional for short periods in the day.  Any more activity and I start to go downhill.  It feels totally alien to me yet every day I am confronted with the fact that at the moment, rest is necessary. Why is something as natural as taking a rest so difficult to do?  I understand and value sleep as an essential part of our health.  But resting during the day?  There is so much I want to do in life, why would I even want to stop during the day? I am someone who has only rested when I feel ill.  Given a choice on a leisurely Sunday afternoon to either have a nap or go for a swim in the cold sea, I would choose the swim.  I wou
Read more

Why is resting so difficult to actually do? A peaceful weekend remembering how to slow down!

Image
"Rest more and take things easy for a while" is advice we have probably all heard or given at some point in our lives.  My GP told me recently to ensure that I rested while still recovering from a persistent virus and bronchitis.  I listened to her words of advice with a deep sense of relief, as if permission was being given to do what my body needs.  But simultaneously I wanted to ignore such advice and keep going as "normal".  I have a deeply ingrained habit of pushing on through, no matter how I feel, to get something done.  If I rest, I won't "progress" or "keep up" and will miss out on things.  Someone has to hold everything together I say to myself, that someone being me!  If I rest, the world could actually fall apart while I'm relaxing somewhere peaceful? Sound familiar?  Having ignored my body's natural need to slow down and rest for decades, I now find myself being forced to pay more attention due to my health.  If I overdo
Read more

How to get through Covid fatigue - have patience and rest or push on through?

Image
Getting covid for the first time was a bit of a shock, having managed to escape it for two and a half years.  I had just come back from a nourishing Ayurvedic retreat in Herefordshire and had been feeling relaxed and well.  A few days later, however, I rapidly felt ill with the classic signs: sore throat, fever and aching muscles.  I just knew that I finally had covid.  It was definitely more flu-like than a sniffly cold and took well over ten days to be out of bed very much.  But nearly six weeks on, I am still on the slow path to recovery... I keep telling myself that I am slowly improving.  The constant headache around the front of my head finally subsided which was a relief.  The muscle aches are less common.  I still cough, especially if I overdo things.  But the main thing left is the fatigue.  Like fatigue I have never experienced before.  It is not being tired nor low energy.  It feels like a strange creature has come to hang out in my body for a while.  Yet the fatigue also f
Read more