Sitting with Cornwall’s autumn evening rays resting on my shoulder, I recall the heatwave of summer. The two month heatwave drawing hoards of holidaymakers to Cornish coastlines. My restlessness accumulating with every surplus second spent indoors at work, craving to share the joy of the outdoors with everyone else. Agitation prevailing, I yearned for a day off to enjoy nature’s finest; to be in the ocean, submersed under water.
There were many days in the end when I was free to explore; free to completely immerse myself in our natural habitat. My agitated, anxious limbs breathed relief as the cold ocean water poured over skin. A natural cleansing; a nourishment from the seawater. Goosebumps rose with eyes wide open under the surface. Blood shot and thirsty for every single drop.
Instant relief as my body touched the water. Every stress, every worry, every anxious thought vanishing, immediately thrust to the back of my mind. Out of sight. Over my head, perfectly in my element. I use the ocean as a means of escape and refreshment. A new beginning at the end of an old day. A loss of stress in its liquid grasp.
Now September has arrived, with her cooler mornings and early dusky evenings, I think back to these special fragmented memories. With these fragments bring smiles and flavours; charcoaled burgers, a warm beer in hand, the inevitable crunch of sand accompanying every beach barbecue. We embraced all of it, especially the sea dips, the full body immersions.
Some of the best moments were meeting friends at our favoured beach for a swim in the clearest blue the Atlantic gifted us. Not a single breath of wind disturbed the surface. We snorkelled round mussel clad boulders, through dense patches of seaweed emanating a contrasting warmth to the cold chill the Atlantic offered. Skimming over dark silhouetted masses of seaweed below; a feeling of panic was ignited within. Something the unknown depths so often conjure. No matter how much time I spend swimming or surfing within these oceanic trails, the depths still intrigue.
Swimming with a friend one weekend in a sheltered bay we revelled in the fleeting solitude before chaos of summer descended. We floated in the shallows of the shimmering aquamarine after a swim beyond the buoys.
Chatting away, I peered down through the malachite surface spotting a mass of seaweed beneath our feet. I glanced back down to see the seaweed moving, growing a large unusual tail. I screamed realising the seaweed was in fact a huge seal inquisitively eyeing us from below. The seal, bored or startled, continued its commute to the working fishing harbour the next bay over. Leaving us spluttering and haphazardly front-crawling our way to shore until we felt sand underfoot. Breaking out into hysterical laughter in that moment of realisation.