The Dip

I met my friend today, alongside her new, and not so little, puppy. We walked towards Hove lagoon, a pink ball squeaking every step of the way, until we found a dog-friendly stretch of beach. The weather has changed in the last few days. On Friday night I camped out by Balcombe Lake, and it was only by keeping every part of myself (face included) inside my four-season sleeping bag that I could stay warm. I slept little, however, ducks quacking all through the night (who'd have believed that mallards could be so noisy?),  and squirming in my 'two-man' tent that closely resembled a coffin. However, I woke up to this. The photo doesn't really do it justice. Mist rolling in at 6.45am is a beautiful thing.

This morning was drizzly and grey, promising little. However, as my friend and I sat down behind a groyne on the beach, the sun felt hot and the sea, dazzling. She stood up, and, waving her arms around in circles, told me about a Tibetan nun she'd met in India, and how the nun had once described compassion as being like the sheen of sunshine on crashing sea waves. I stripped off my dress and leggings, unhooked my bra and ran into the water in my knickers. It wasn't particularly cold. However, probably because we were right next to the groyne, the force of the waves immediately knocked me back onto the shingle.

     Consequently I didn't get very far into the sea, each wave hitting another wave that had bounced off the concrete groyne. and knocking me over, time and again. It was fun, but it made me aware how strong the waves can be. In the Isle of Wight I'd jumped wave after wave, all above head height, but was able to ride them; we were in tune somehow. Today, I had no chance. I ended up sitting amongst the pebbles and letting the surf roll over me (and even then the current was strong.) Afterwards I leaned against the groyne and dried out. I wasn't cold at all. It was probably my warmest dip of the summer.

      My outdoor swimming days are numbered. It's a bit sad that my desire for outdoor swimming has escalated as the temperature drops daily. Each dip in the sea is a bonus. I bought this book the other day, but it looks like I'll be keeping it for next year. At least that'll give me more time to forge friendships with other swimmers, preferably ones who are braver at wild swimming than I am. There's nothing like a friend egging you on to get you into that freezing water.