The Rock – Swimming with my Spouse

My rock in stormy seas. Introducing Mr Seabird

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The final part in the family swim stories trilogy.

Part I – Libby in the Lakes – swimming with my Daughter

Part II – Monarch of the Glen – swimming with a Laird

My husband and my depression, have been constants in my life since I was teenager. We met when I was 12 and he was 13 and we got together when I was 15 and he was 16. Right about the time when my teenage brain was experiencing it’s first incidence of poor mental health, and seeking out new risky experiences, resulting in lots of poor choices. He watched the poor choices from the wings, without partaking himself, often clearing up the debris.

Over the years, like any couple we’ve had our ups and downs, as my mental health has had it’s up and downs. Sometimes the two things are intertwined. My choices have improved with age and so has his support. He doesn’t always agree with my choices, decisions and ideas but his support is unwavering. When I let him get a word in edge-ways, he has been known to give bloomin’ good advice. He is the rock I cling to in stormy seas.

My choice to skin swim in the sea year round is also watched from the wings. He loves that I do it, but he neither has the time or inclination to join me. He enjoys being at the beach or in the sea but he prefers gentle beach breaks or small hidden coves and warmer sea temperatures. Our holiday choices are easy. It has to be by the sea and the car is filled with neoprene, SUPs and surf boards. He will get up early for solo surfs and be the first one to suggest a sunset swim before bed. Finding a beautiful secluded beach in Cornwall a couple of years ago and forgetting our swimsuits meant a skinny dip was inevitable. The teens are yet to forgive us.

Our holiday choices match but the type of swims we like can differ. I have been bought up on steep shingle shelves and long shore drift. Brighton beach is my favourite place to swim. It’s familiar, although ever changing. It’s my safe space although sometimes precarious. He only likes it local when it’s warmer and when it’s slack tide. He hates the, sometimes unstoppable, strong tidal current that can be like swimming on travelator going the wrong way. A couple of hard swims home when I’ve encouraged him to swim with me didn’t help lessen his hatred for fast moving water.

On special occasions I can convince him to swim with me on home territory. The featured image above show the pre-swim smiles of my 45th birthday. Early on a Sunday morning in July he accompanied me for a swim out to the buoys in front of the King Alfred. There is no post swim photo. There was no post swim chat. There was only post swim sulks, from both of us. The cross shore pull that had made reaching the buoy relatively easy was making the swim back tough. As I swam beside him giving advice on where to aim for to exit the sea safely and where we had left our bags I infuriated him more as I was able to talk and swim and wasn’t in the slightest bit concerned about getting back to dry land. We ended up having a row in the sea that resulted in me swimming off in the direction I had suggested and him the other. In hindsight I realise I had taken him out of his comfort zone, then emasculated him with my nonchalance in the water only to abandon him when he was feeling vulnerable. The salt in the wound being the walk over sharp shingles at the end of his ordeal. He is so confident in every other aspect of his life it didn’t enter my mind that this was something he was doing for me and not necessarily something he wanted to do.

It really is the pull of a current that he hates. In a warm non-tidal Mediterranean sea he would regularly take the children out to depths and distances that left me watching from a sunbed in horror. Fortunately, a couple of bad experiences haven’t put him off swimming with me…..just not in Brighton. This year’s birthday was spent swimming the Somerset Levels together. Pull of the water panic was replaced by pike panic. There was our trip to Scotland. The glens and waterfalls are hands down, the most beautiful place we have both ever had the pleasure of swimming. The peaty dark brown lochs provided a very different swimming experience as he confidently entered the water I splashed and stayed in the shallows put off by the murky water and what could lie beneath. He also joined my sister and I when we swam in Bude Tide Pool in April in armed only with his swim shorts. But he is at his happiest in a Cornish cove in the summer.

I call him a fair-weather swimmer but he is really not. He just doesn’t enjoy some of the same swims as me and there is nothing fair-weather about being married to me. All the while I wish to skin swim, year round I have the company of the Salty Seabirds. Absence makes the heart grow fonder after all!

Scribe: Seabird Kath

Footnote: I am reading and editing this in bed pre-publication and he is snoring to the point of punching his face in! It ain’t all hearts and roses.

The Days of the Dawnie are numbered

Not only is winter approaching, fast cooling the sea and air temperature, but daylight is fading fast too. And shorter days mean less opportunity to swim particularly if you are an early bird like me.

My favourite time to swim is first thing in the morning. I regularly wake up at 5.30am without an alarm all year round no matter what time, and in what state, I have gone to bed. This is both a blessing and curse. The curse is quite obvious. I can’t stay awake past 9pm, most peoples lunchtime is when I want to be eating my evening meal and don’t even think about asking me to do anything that uses my brain or my body after 4pm.

The blessing of being up at the crack of dawn is no body else is. I can start my day at my own pace and chose solitude or a seabird swim.

Brighton Beach in the morning is a totally different place to the bustling tourist trap that is presented on the front page of the red tops every time we get a hot day. Most locals stay up late and get up late so the shops and cafes do the same. So you can head down to the beach and scarcely see a soul. There is a huge community of sea swimmers, cycling commuters and promenade runners, but not a tourist in sight. Sadly the remnants of their late night activities too often are.

As you approach the sea front road you see people strolling out of the flats, towels rolled under arm, and heading onto the shingle for their morning constitutional. Open water swimming is a very social pursuit and fosters strong communities but the early morning swimmer seeks solace and silence. Courteous nods are exchanged but little chatter as you find your own spot and sink into the sea. Even if you are in a group voices are muted to suit the situation.

I have been trying to put my finger on what is so special about swimming at dawn. For surfers they can catch clean waves before the air temperature rises and creates a sea breeze. With less people in the line up, they also get their pick of the waves. The same can be said for morning swimming. The still air can create mill pond conditions and you will always be able to find a quiet spot.

But it is more than that. Knowing you will leave the water feeling relaxed and ready to face the day is a particular draw for me. The calm before the storm. The stillness of the air and water literally gets absorbed into your soul. The light in the morning also carries a sweet peace. Grey or blue, bright or dull, cloudy or clear it has a special sort of light in the sky that steals the horizon creating an endless seascape. The sun is low in the sky gradually creeping upwards taking your mood with it.

But how many Dawn Patrols are their left before winter steals the sunlight? Well that all depends on how close you are to the equator. For the Seabirds in Brighton we’ve got light at 7am until the end of the October. When the clocks change and we leave British Summer Time we are given the gift of a few more early starts possibly into November. Much like last year we will just keep getting in the sea and see.