Nothing says summer like a jellyfish sting!

Hers in Brighton and Hove our seasonal swimming friends the jellyfish have arrived in abundance. In this blog you will learn how to identify the common types and what do do if you are stung.

Once the May Bloom begins to die back the jellyfish appear on the south coast of England.  We had a sunfish sighting off Brighton’s beach last week which meant the jellyfish were imminent. It is their staple diet as it is for leatherback turtles. So what visitors can we expect each year from May to October? (Also included are a couple of creatures that are technically not jellyfish but kinda look and act like them so they get a mention.)

I love jellyfish. I think they are mesmerising to watch and I can often while a way a few minutes (read hours) watching the Monterey Bay Aquarium jellyfish dance on their jellycam.  They don’t really swim but instead are carried by tides and currents around the UK waters. They all sting but to varying degrees and are essential in the marine food chain so I feel we can forgive them if they accidentally leave some nematocysts stinging cells on our limbs. For me summer has only truly arrived once I feel a slight skin irritation after a shower and know it’s because I’ve been stung by a jellyfish.

sea goosberry

Sea Gooseberry – The first to appear in the summer are sea gooseberries, which are not actually jellyfish, but they are my favourite. They are so named for obvious reasons but are sometimes called comb jellies or ctenophore. Due to their almost transparent nature they can be hard to see but you feel their cilia, which they use for swimming or their two long trailing tentacles as a soft tickle. Their shadows on your skin are sometimes easier to spot than the actual creature itself.  They vertically migrate throughout the day so are most common near the surface in the mornings or evenings.

moon

Moon – this jelly has an umbrella shaped transparent bell with 4 very distinct purple or white rings in the centre and gets up to around 40cm. These are the jellyfish gonads! It has very short hair like tentacles which release the mildest of stings. So mild you may not even realise you have been stung.

compass

Compass – this is the jellyfish we draw or see in drawings. It has a typical umbrella top and lovely long tentacles and frilled arms and grows to around 30cm. It is identifiable by the markings on it’s bell, which resemble a compass and are reddy brown in colour. If you feel you have been stung by a jellyfish on the south coast this is likely to be the culprit. It is sometimes called a nettle jellyfish as it’s sting feels similar to that of a nettle.

blue

Blue – This jelly fish has a dome shaped bell and lots and lots of stinging tentacles and is around 30cm. Although it is named ‘Blue Jellyfish’ it doesn’t actually turn blue until it is at full maturity. It gradually changes from a pale yellow to a blueish purple. During it’s paler phase it can commonly be mistaken for a Lion’s Mane Jelly. He’s stinger!

Largelionsmanejellyfish

Lion’s Mane Jellyfish – quite obvious how it got it’s name. A very elaborate orange jellyfish which can grow quite large (50cm – 2m) with This is the worst stinger but fortunately for those of us that swim off the south coast they are usually found in northern waters. The problem with these is they sting A LOT because they have such A LOT of tentacles which easily break off. These are worth seeking medical attention for.

barrel

Barrel – sometimes called dustbin lid jellyfish as this is typically their size so you’ll know of you see one. They can get up to 1m. You can often spot them in the deep water of Shoreham port when they get stuck in the locks there. They are incredible to look at. The good news is they do not have tentacles but rather frills and if they sting you they re very mild.

mauve

Mauve Stinger – does what it says on the tin. It’s mauve and it stings. It’s much smaller than the others only getting up to about 10cm and it has a deep bell, pinky purple in colour. It have 8 stinging tentacles that can leave you with skin irritation, blisters, hives and scabs.

Portuguese_Man-O-War_(Physalia_physalis)

Portuguese man-of-war or bluebottles are not actually a jellyfish and don’t just exist in Portugal. It is in fact a siphonophore which in layman’s terms is a whole host of colonies of genetically identical creatures!  It gets its name from the uppermost polyp, a gas-filled bladder, or pneumatophore, which is blue-purple in colour and  sits above the water and somewhat resembles an old warship at full sail. It has incredibly long fishing polyps, up to 10 metres long and although rare in UK waters is has a powerful and dangerous sting. Get to the doctor!

by the wind

By the wind sailor – sometimes confused with the Portuguese man-of-war as it too has a sail like structure that sits above the water line and they are blueish purple in colour. Again it is not a jellyfish but it does have stinging tentacles that are harmless to humans. The tend to appear in huge swarms.

STINGS – what to do!

Jellyfish can sting whether they are dead or alive and if a part of the tentacle is broken off it can still sting you. Stinging cells, normally intended for their food prey,  basically attach themselves to your skin and well sting. How much they hurt and how dangerous the sting can be all depends on the type of jellyfish, how much you have been stung and how you react to stings. For example, if you are the type of person that blows up when bitten by a mosquito because your body produces an excess of histamine, the likelihood is you will react the same way to a jellyfish sting. Certain types of stings will always require medical attention as per the description above. The more mild stings can be treated in the following ways;

  • Remove all traces of the stinging cells from your skin with a bank card by scraping it along the surface.
  • The sting reacts to changes in temperature and PH levels so keeping both of these consistent for as long as possible will reduce pain and redness. So it sounders counterproductive and probably not very inviting but stay in the salty cold water of the sea for as long as possible.
  • Do not clean the area with fresh water as this will do both of the above (change in temperature and PH) and boy will you know it if it is a significant sting. As previously said I sometimes only realise I have been stung when have a shower – a good reason to avoid them and stay salty.
  • Treat with heat not a cold compress
  • Take paracetamol and/or antihistamine
  • A newly discovered favourite is put shaving foam on the affected area as it apparently prevents the spread of toxins. Who knew!

 

The gooseberry, moon, compass and barrel are the most common in the English channel. I have never seen the others in Brighton and Hove but that’s not to say they have never occurred, just that they are rare. If you wish to continue swimming in the sea over the summer months you are going to have to put up with these fascinating residents. Rash vests and swim leggings can be worn to prevent stings but it won’t prevent you from encountering them. Hopefully, learning about how important they are to the marine food chain and knowing that the sting from the most commonly occurring types is harmless won’t stop you from getting in the water.

Lots of organisations are interested in tracking jellyfish populations. The Marine Conservation Society record which jellyfish get washed up and where so please report whatever you see. The Wildlife Trust also asks for public volunteers to record wildlife on our shores.

Favourite jellyfish fact: Groups of jellyfish are called swarms, blooms or my favourite smacks!

NB: All image are taken from Wikipedia – there will be better and beautiful  examples of the jellyfish on the internet but so as not to breach copyright they have not been shared here.

Just keep swimming!

The Buoys are Back in Town

The summer season is here in Brighton and Hove. The Swim Area Buoys and lifeguards have returned to our beaches but there have been a lot of changes to their service. This blog explains the 2020 Lifeguard Service and advice on swimming safely through the summer.

The much anticipated arrival of the iconic yellow ‘SWIM AREA’ buoys is finally here. They are safely anchored off Brighton and Hove’s beaches but they aren’t quite the same………

As a group, we try to encourage all local residents of all swim abilities to join us in the sea. Our aim is to create a community space for people to enjoy the water and provide a way for swimmers to manage their mental health and wellbeing. The summer is great time to start and as we re-opened the group to new members this week we have already seen lots of new Salties joining our flock. So as a warm welcome to warmer seas we’d like to share the story of our swims, the iconic Brighton Buoys and our summer season lifeguard service. Particularly as C19 has meant significant changes to the Seafront service and we want our flock to swim safely.

As the waters warm, our numbers inevitably grow. This year we are unable to share our swims with more than 5 other Salties. The beauty of the bigger regular swims is you will find someone that meets your swim needs. They swim the same stroke as you, the same speed as you, the same distance as you and eats the same cake as you. Some of us will swim out and round the buoys, some won’t. Some will paddle, some will float, some will swim for long distances. Whatever works for you. But in the spirit of inclusivity we swim at the speed and to the distance of our most relaxed swimmer if we meet as a group, and we ask our swimmers to be mindful of this as new Salties join us.

Normally the SWIM AREA buoys would arrive in early May ready for the lifeguard season to start on Brighton and Hove’s beaches over the May Half Term. Due to C19 there has been a delay. Brighton and Hove normally has 14 lifeguarded beaches  and the swim area buoys mark out an area that is safe to swim in if the yellow and red flags are flying and a lifeguard is on duty.  They are not there for swimmers to swim round although many use them as markers to swim too and roughly measure the distance of their swim. If you were to see a bird’s eye view of them you would see they are never parallel and move around quite a bit in bad weather so it is a very rough measurement .

The season normally runs from May to September with the outer posts of Saltdean, Rottingdean, Ovingdean and Hove Lagoon opening from July to September, as the schools break up. There can be between 1-3 lifeguards per post depending on how busy that particular beach is. The more popular touristy beaches by the Palace Pier have more lifeguards. All the beach lifeguards are supported by a lifeguarded boat that patrols daily and the Seafront staff and co-ordinators (the staff on the quad bikes).

This year, the most noticeable change is the late arrival of the SWIM AREA buoys and their position in the water. They are not in sets of 5 in front of lifeguard posts (Pic 1). Instead they are dotted along the shoreline, roughly (and only roughly see pic 2) parallel with each other from the Palace Pier to Hove Lagoon. There are no buoys east of the Palace Pier. Instead of indicating lifeguard posts the buoys are to prevent jet skis and boats from coming to close to shore to protect water users.

 

These buoys are not to be confused with the boat lane buoys. These too are yellow but a different shape. However, from a distance, and now the buoys are in a parallel line alongside the boat buoys, it is hard to see the difference. These buoys look like the picture below and are there to indicate where boats can approach to and from the shore. If you don’t want to get hit by a boat – don’t swim in these lanes. The boat lane buoys line up with yellow posts on the beach as per the picture below. This one to the west of King Alfred is by the boat winches and normally has kayaks locked to it. So if you can’t see the shape of the buoy from the shore – look for a post.

As there are no inner buoys yet this year and a limited lifeguard service the Sea Front Office have requested that swimmers do not swim out to the buoys to reduce the number of rescues they have to perform and the risk to their lives from the sea and C19 infection from swimmers. This is the most common rescue they perform. Swimmers head out for the buoys and when they get there can be too tired to swim back, not realise they made it there on a tidal current or offshore wind and don’t have the ability to get back, or get there and realise how far they are from shore and freeze both in temperature and ability to move.

We’ve had a few ‘hold your breath’ moments within our flock. Last summer, on the first day of the lifeguard seasons a new Salty asked another swimmer if they thought she’d be able to swim out to the buoy. The other swimmer, innocently replied yes and so a group set out on her maiden voyage. When the new swimmer got to the buoy it was clear this wasn’t the right decision, the lifeguard was attracted and a board rescue ensued. The lesson here is you need to take responsibility for your own assessment of the conditions and your capability. If you are asking someone else the question can I swim that far, or for that long etc the answer is no. We’ve also had a new swimmer not only to the group but to Brighton join a group swimming around the West Pier. The swimming group had made it clear on the swim invitation that is wasn’t a usual group dip of handstand performing, cake and a natter afterwards but a long swim around the pier.  The new swimmer still joined and  got into significant difficulty as she wasn’t used to the cold temperatures, the strong currents and also put the lives of the others swimmers in danger as they stayed in the water to help her back to shore.

We understand, that for some swimmers having goals and targets gives you something to strive towards but this must be done safely. If you wish to increase your time in the water, build up to it slowly and stay close to the shore so you can exit quickly.  Another way to measure your swim distance is to move parallel to the shore and count the groynes. These are roughly 100 metres apart and allow you to stay in shallower water and closer to a safe exit point. If you wish to swim to the buoys consider going at slack tide on a spring low with no wind. Don’t forget to wear a tow float and a bright coloured hat, preferably orange or pink.

So as to changes to the Lifeguard Service. They start today! (Saturday 13th June) Hooray. They will operating on the beaches by King Alfred and between the Palace and West Pier only to begin with. If and when this changes we will publish updated information in the group. Opening up additional posts and putting out buoys closer to shore and to mark out swim areas are under discussion. The current lifeguard posts are larger and will have 6 lifeguards per post – 3 operating each half of the post. They will be working a reduced day from 11am-5pm.  We will no longer be able to leave our bags and belongings with them as it would pose a cross contamination risk. However, they are still happy to answer any of your questions of give you advice, just be mindful to stay 2ms or they will have to put on their face masks.   They will have boards close to their posts indicating tide times and sea conditions. There will be increased water patrols on boards and the boat will be joined by volunteer crew on Surf Lifesaving Club boats at the weekends.

To me the buoys mean summer, clear seas and double dip days. Yes I swim to them, round them, under them, photograph them. One of these years I’m going to clean them. But I do it when the conditions are right, I am in the right frame of mind and  I have the energy. Sometimes I don’t know if all the buoys are aligned to mean a swim to them is an option until I get to the beach, see who else is there and see if the sea is playing ball. I’m quite happy to change my plans to perfecting my handstands, searching for crabs on the sea bottom or just floating. The sea is most definitely my mistress and dictates my swim!

However you decide to swim with, however long you stay in, wherever you swim to and from, do it safely and have a wonderful summer of sea swims

Useful Resources

  • How to read sea condition forecasts – this blog written by local Sea swimmer Freja and explains how to read the Magic Seaweed App
  • Other useful apps are windguru, buoyweather and Imray
  • The seafront has a number of webcams to get an idea of the sea conditions before you leave home. They can change quickly though so be prepared to change you plans.
  • How to swim in cold water safely – this blog focuses on mitigating the risks of swimming in cold water. Even in the summer the sea can be cold!
  • Water quality is measured by various organisation around Brighton and Hove. Surfers Against Sewage have a Safer Seas app that provides warnings if the water quality is low.
  • Seafront Office are happy to give advice. They cannot give you individual advice on whether it is safe for you to swim but can provide answers to general queries around water quality, sea temperature events etc. Their contact details are; 01273 292716.
  • Statement from Brighton and Hove City Council regarding the service in the seafront.

Meet The Flockers; Series 1, Hannah

The third in the series of blogs that get to know the salty seabirds and understand why they swim in the sea. This week it is the talented and witty Hannah we get to know.

A bit about me –  I’ve lived in Brighton for 12 years, am an artist and graphic novelist and work with children and young people. I have always swum in the sea; when I was little I was very close to my grandad, and  my brother and I loved his seafaring tales. He is immortalised in these comic strips (attached). I have swum in the sea with all the people I love most.

george william - hannah

george william 2

george william 3

Earliest memory of swimming

The ‘baby pool’ at Harrow Leisure Centre with my best friend Jayne, aged about four, singing a dirge-like song called ‘Bobbing Corks’. Blowing up orange armbands, getting chlorine in our eyes (it was 1980: goggles were for welders) -afterwards, Highland Toffee bars (5p!) out of the vending machines. Female friendship and refined carbohydrates…I sense the beginning of a pattern.

 

Earliest memory of sea swimming –

My grandad borrowed a red and white rowing boat from his mate Malcolm and took me and my brother cockle picking from Portland one August…I think it was the Fleet lagoon, between Chesil Beach and the mainland. I was five or six. I remember standing thigh-deep in the shallows, staring at flashes of sunlight on the water and the underwater shadows on the sand, and suddenly being overwhelmed by a total understanding of this hymn we sang at school that went ‘Glad that I live am I/That the sky is blue’. It was, and I was. But the cockles, boiled that night by my nana in a giant saucepan and soused in vinegar, were disgusting.

 

Why did you join the Salty Seabirds – (including ‘what do you like most about the SS (haha)’

I’ve always found groups difficult. I joined a sea swimming club about 10 years ago, but despite some nice people and great swims, ended up addicted to exercise, a bit joyless and full of self-flagellation and anxiety if I hadn’t achieved a certain distance, which the club’s sporty ethos exacerbated. Then my lovely friend Cath introduced me to her lovely friend Kath at the inception of the Seabirds, followed by a steady stream of amazing, inspirational, honest, hilarious, thoughtful, joyful and crotchety women (and the odd man). They (we) swim for companionship with the sea and with each other, to wrestle with devils, to frolic, handstand and sob into the waves, and not once has anyone asked me how far I have swum and judged my response or my fitness. I have found my merpeople! It’s also great that it’s a shifting group, because just as each swim is different because of the tide, weather, moon or mood, so is the social experience you have.

Cath has an amazing gift for being alongside people and casts a magic circle on the shingle wherein all sorts of people can be alongside each other, contented and alive, with cake and tea and without an ounce of competition. And her witchy prancing is a joy.

Kath, as well as being a seasoned sea-dog of infinite wisdom, has an amazing gift for acceptance of others (but she would say she doesn’t) – I and my abrasive, uncomfortable, melancholy edges are very grateful to her for welcoming us.

With a light but sweary touch and a flash or two of arse, they have created something incredible. I will always remember about seven of us sitting on the beach drinking tea and talking frankly about our vaginas, freezing but not wanting to leave the conversation, because nothing like it had happened before.

 

What do you like most about swimming in the sea?

I like feeling small and part of nature. I like being suspended – out of, but also very much in, my slightly creaky (on the land) middle aged body, the weight and lightness of water at every extremity. Moving through it, I feel like some big, streamlined water mammal. I got called ‘sea cow’ by my Year 8 class after we watched a documentary about manatees, and I reclaim it now as my superhero name!

Meet the Flockers; Series 1, Cath

The second in the series of blogs that get to know the salty seabirds and understand why they swim in the sea. This week it is Co-Flounder Cath giving us an insight into her reasons for staying salty!

I have always swum in pools, and the sea when I had the chance (holidays in Bournemouth as a kid getting sunburnt in the shallows). I have always liked being in water but forced myself to swim really getting bored ploughing up and down the lanes but finding it meditative and therapeutic. Then I had kids and became my mother, sitting on the beach staying covered up while the kids enjoyed themselves but not joining in the fun of it.

We joined the Surf Lifesaving Club when our eldest was 11 and it was on a week way in North Devon where the kids and many of the Dads were surfing that I thought, “what the hell I am doing? why aren’t I in there having fun like them – what is going on with all us Mums that we are still on the shore?”. Many of us then had a surf lesson and that was that – I was someone who got in, fell off boards, got tumbled, tired and freezing. And loved it! Fast forward a few years and I am still getting in but only in a wetsuit with a board, or on really really hot days and holidays.

Stress build up at work and a group of friends from surf club (including Kath) started sea swimming in the Spring, and we just never stopped. It became an essential in my life but hadn’t realised it was missing until I found it. It got me through a difficult time back then and lead to a big life and career change – founding the Seabirds 🙂

My earliest memory of the sea is jumping up and down in rubber rings playing a game with no rules or logic that I had created with my brother in Durley Chine, Bournemouth. Hours in the sea in hot sunshine but blue round the mouth with cold and sunburnt so my Dad made me wear a t-shirt in the sea. Loving it. Joyful and playful, laughing in the waves. (probably 1976?)

My favourite place to swim in Brighton and Hove….Costa del Brunswick, especially in the hot summer when I park up there for hours at a time with the kids in the water and coming back for food and drinks and a Salty Seabird will join me for a swim (Sam swum down from D5 to see me there last summer, seeing her appear unannounced out of the sea like Bottecelli’s Venus was a highlight of my hot summer sea days)

I swim in the sea because it meets a deep need in me for being immersed in water, nature and the feeling of release and being ‘held’. I never regret a swim and always feel happier and better after one.

In ‘regular’ times I swim most days – 5 days a week if I can. Favourite kind of sea is a bouncy watery roller coaster type just this side of safe! Plunging through big crashy waves and not feeling the cold (what is that about not feeling it so much when its rough?) but getting the energy is so invigorating and makes me feel great. With sea swimming and the Salty community in my life I am a more even, happier person. It has re-built my resilience.

I love the Salty Seabird Community so much – when we started it 2 years ago we had no idea it would grow so big and vibrant. That people have made lasting friendships and find support from the community there makes me proud and happy beyond words. Who knew there were so many up for dicking about the sea and being bloody brilliant to each other? So much love. I have met some truly fabulous people. Miss you all during lock-down and look forward to swimming with you all soon xxxx

seabirds brighton art raffle

PS Another of my roles is as a volunteer with a Thousand 4 £1000 who Seabirds are supporting with our fundraiser our Weekly Art Raffle – please click the links to read more about what we do and how you could help. Like Seabirds, T4K is all about building community and sharing the love. If you can donate the price of a cup of coffee a month to support some of the most vulnerable in our local community then please sign up on the website. xxx

PPS I also have another business – NukuNuku (= warm and cosy in Japanese) where making and selling haramaki core-warmers that we sell in Seabirds and a few other cosy items. Check it out x

 

 

Woman cannot live on Swims alone

I’m all come swim with me until the summer when I have no desire to swim. Or is it because I have no need to swim?

It’s that time of year again when the inevitable summer swim slump occurs. Life gets busy and the beach gets busy. I find myself muttering under my breath about fair weather swimmers as I approach our increasingly crowded favourite spot of shingle in front of Hove Lawns. Hardly aligned with my belief that swimming is for all and everyone should give it a go. The warmer waters remove the temperature barrier that prevents so many from swimming in the sea. This is a good thing. But still it keeps me away from my sacred sea.

It’s not that I like solitude when I am swimming. I have written many times about the sense of community and connection I gain from swimming with others. But I also do not like crowds. Too many people, too much noise, bodies invading my fiercely protected personal space overwhelms my over sensitive brain. I also fiercely protect my swimming space and when I see plastic all over the pebbles I want to weep. Hardly my happy place in the summer months.

My swim squad also disperses across Europe on their holidays. They share images of Italian Lakes, Yorkshire Tarns, French Rivers and Greeks Seas. They have all found secret swim spots, a Salty Seabird haven away from our busy beaches. There really is nothing better than finding a swim spot with family and friends and there is no one else there. You’ve hit the wild swimming jackpot. This is impossible in Brighton and Hove as the beaches are always busy in the summer and good old Sussex by the sea is a wild swimmers dry spot. There are rivers and lakes in abundance but they are not accessible to the public. I scroll through neighbouring Surrey’s wild swim group in envy at the access they have to the Thames and the River Wey. The Wild Swim guide books offer no real alternative to the sea in Sussex.

The alternative would be getting up at sunrise before the beach gets busy. Not really a hard task for an early riser like me. What ever the season I will wake up between 5-5.30am every day. During the summer months it is light enough to head down to the beach for a swim. Seabird Christine runs the 6.15am club and most mornings partakes in a dawn dip so I would even have Salty company. But I just can’t seem to muster the enthusiasm during the hot months. I think I may be a cold water junkie. If the sea temperature is below double digits it seems to be more appealing. During the summer the sea is room temperature, which for me, is a bit bath like.

I am currently on holiday in France where they have a much more tolerant attitude towards swimming outdoors than we do in the England. There are Lakes and rivers in abundance close to where I am staying. But, in all honesty lakes just don’t do it for me, especially when they are 25 degrees. I class the Mediterranean as a Salty Lake – not a sea. The water level is low so the rivers near by are too shallow to swim in. With lots of research and driving around I could no doubt find a suitable deep bend in a river. But I came on holiday to relax and read not to swim. And I am just as happy to be dry for the duration.

So what happens to my mental health during these times of drought, when I am an advocate of outdoor swimming as a way of managing wellbeing. As I write this, with a glass on rosé sitting on a veranda in Provence in the cool outdoor air I am happy. I have in fact been happy all summer long, even with a reduction in regular swims. Life has been by no means smooth swimming, life isn’t for anyone, but I have experienced no significant episodes of anxiety or depression. Which has made me consider why. Don’t get me wrong I am glad not to be sad but I wonder why.

Cold water swimming is just one thing in my arsenal against my mental health demons. I have lots of other things that are working alongside regular sea swimming. They have been been doing their thing in the background consistently as the dips have dwindled. Supplements, talking, rest, new experiences, good books, digital downtime, exercise, dog walks; are just some of the things in the mental health ammunition box that allow people to continue to cope. I am fortunate to have access to them all.

I have a husband and a business partner that keep me in check and tell me to slow down when I am accelerating at a rate of knots that is not necessary. Down time away from digital distractions is a necessary part of my mental maintenance but difficult to balance when you run your own business. Being disciplined with my down time and clever with scheduling has had a positive impact on my wellbeing.

I am currently well rested. Lots of early nights and saying no to too many evenings out has enabled me to manage and recover from numerous Seabird evening sessions, lessons and events. Now I am on holiday and the pace has definitely slowed to a crawl. If we are lucky, the kids may rise before lunchtime, so our excursions are mainly low key and local. I have entire mornings to read, write, think.

I know these things, amongst others, are working on my wellbeing. They are the hidden cogs that aren’t as visible as my sea swimming. My shoulder was injured for months preventing me from doing any swimming of substance. Yes I was frustrated but I accepted it. The busy beaches have reduced my swim time to once a week but I don’t mind. I am on holiday and the main focus isn’t finding a swim spot and that’s OK.

Don’t get me wrong the desire to jump into any body of water I happen to stumble across is still there. And I cannot wait to get back to the pebble, waves and community of my favourite Hove beach. But for now I am just as happy out of the water

Author: Seabird Kath

Meet the Flockers: Series 1, Kath

Series 1, Kath. Each week we meet a different flocker, a member of the salty seabird wild swim community in Brighton and Hove and understand their relationship with wild swimming.

Tell us a bit about you.

I’m Kath, one of the founders of Seabirds Ltd Community Interest Company and the Salty Seabirds sea swimming community group. I’m in my late 40s and I’m a mother to two teenagers, a dog owner, a life partner, an over-thinker, a wild woman and a sea swimmer. I’ve always swum. My Godmother was a swimming teacher who taught me to swim and I spent every school holiday with my family in West Sussex at the seaside. I started swimming in the sea aged 2 or 3 (there are pictures of me sat in rock pools looking very happy) and I haven’t stopped since. Even when I was working full time in a busy corporate job I managed to find time to swim in the sea.

When I had children, I wanted them both to learn to swim too. My daughter really took to it and when she was 10 I found a Surf Lifesaving Club in Brighton for her to join. Around the same time I had a breakdown, I left my corporate job and begun volunteering at the Club too. It kept me going and got me out of the house. I’ve volunteered with Surf Life Saving for 8 years now and am a Trainer Assessor at the Hove Club.

I met Cath – with a C, the other founder – through our children and we started swimming in the sea together. We both had personal things we were working through and then, one day, we had a lightbulb moment – we realised how much better swimming in the sea made us feel and we wanted to spread the word and get other people involved. And so we founded Seabirds Ltd  – a not for profit company that raises funds for causes close to our hearts and the Salty Seabirds – a community of people in Brighton and Hove who swim together regularly.

What is the earliest memory you have of swimming?

I was raised in Farnham in Surrey and had swimming lessons with Farnham Swimming Club (because my God Mother was a swimming teacher not because I was good at it). In the winter it was in the local catholic school pool and in the summer it was in the town’s outdoor pool. I was a very thin child and the outdoor pool was a beautiful, but unheated lido! All I remember is being so cold I turned blue every week and the wonderful turnstile you went through to leave! Interesting that I would now welcome the cold…….. too late as the pool will filled in in the 80’s a blocks of flats where built o the site ..sigh.

What is the earliest memory you have of swimming in the sea?

So every school holiday, winter or summer, my family would stay in a converted railway carriage on the shingle shores of Selsey in West Sussex. At low tide there was a shallow lagoon that was sandy and safe and I would sit and splash in there from a very early age, maybe 2 or 3. As an awkward gangly teen I would spend hours perfecting my dives of the wooden breakwaters at East Beach at high tide. Away from prying eyes I didn’t need to conform to nonchalant sulky teen behaviour, I could just be me, with no fear of  reprimand from my cool mates. Very freeing when you are consumed by teenage angst.

Fascinating fact – the Desert Island Discs theme ‘Sleepy Lagoon’ was composed in Selsey and based on the lagoon I swam in.

Where is your favourite place to swim in Brighton and Hove and why?

It’s D5 – the beach just in front of Hove Lawns Café. Historically because my favourite council lifeguard used to exclusively work on this post and I’d share a cuppa with him and stash my clothes behind his windbreak. But now because I know it’s geography so well, it’s so familiar, it feels safe and secure like home. It can get super busy in the summer with uber Hove mums and families and then I migrate to other spots but for most of the year this is my swim spot. I’m very territorial about it and have left my wee scent there a lot!

Why do you swim in the sea?

For all sorts of reasons that are all about my wellbeing. I have suffered with depression and anxiety for as long as I can remember and I have enjoyed being at the beach or in the sea, again, for as long as I can remember. Swimming in the sea simply makes me feel better. I could wax lyrical long and hard about the how’s and why but basically when you are a malcontent person you spend a disproportionate amount of time under a thick, heavy dark cloud yet are expected to act as if it is a day filled with sunshine. It’s exhausting. For a few moments, most days, submerged in the sea I feel joy. Pure, innocent, childish joy. And rested. No amount of medication, therapy or counselling has ever achieved that!

 

What do you like most about swimming (insert chatting and eating cake) with the Salty Seabird Community?

This is such a weird one for me. I am so uncomfortable around people. I am deaf on one side so have to lip read which makes me nervous with new people or anyone who speaks English as a second language. I am awkward around anyone with mental health issues, particularly if they are manic or unable to mask it, as it’s like holding up a mirror. I am more at ease in the company of men, probably because I am a massive flirt. Yet somehow I love love love swimming with a bunch of mainly women, that I haven’t known very long, some have migrated to Sussex from all over the world, many of whom have mental health issues and are swimming to aid their emotional wellbeing. In theory this should be my absolute worst nightmare. But it isn’t. I have never met a more inclusive, kind, considerate community with whom I share a deep connection. So what I love most about swimming with the Salty Seabirds is how comfortable I am in their company.

How often do you swim in the sea?

Again a big misconception is that I swim in the sea every day. But it is around 3 times a week – very rarely at weekends and mostly in the mornings. In the summer I swim much less because the damn fair-weather swimmers invade my space and the beaches are super busy, even at dawn!

Where and when was your favourite swim?

I’m as territorial about this swim spot as I am D5 but there is a place that we go back to every year when we visit the South West that holds such intense happy memories. My heart aches for it as I write this. Watching your children come alive with excitement, amplified chatter and bright eyes, as we make our way across the rocks. It’s hard to find and even harder to get to, but by the power of the internet and middle class gentrification, it is getting busier each year. But there is still a quiet spot in the rocky cove to the west on a disused fishing slipway that no one sits on. We hide painted pebbles in  the gaps to find the following year. You can jump off the rocks and cliffs even at low tide and the water is aqua and crystal clear. Even on the roughest day it is swimmable. We bring wet-suits, snorkels and flippers so look like we are staying for a week as we walk down the hidden path to the cove. We scoff pasties from the local bakery that only opens for a couple of hours every morning. There are grooves in the rocks from old cart wheels that carried smuggled brandy and huge holes where winches were once housed. Every swim there, every year, is my favourite swim.

What’s been the biggest barrier you’ve had to overcome to regularly swim in the sea?

Fear – which I think will surprise my salty flock as they see me as a fearless jelly fish catcher that it happiest the far side of the pier. But actually I’ve had a few near misses and been involved in a failed rescue attempt and I can get regularly spooked in the sea. I have swum in the sea, year round for over a decade now but much of that was encased in a wet-suit. I would take bigger risks knowing the wet-suit would help me float, keep me warm and more importantly protect by body when it got slammed on the shingle as I mis-timed by exit. I remember once having to wait 20 minutes trying to swim in but then having to duck dive back out and under wave upon wave upon wave. I was finally able to exit a few hundred metres further up the beach. I wore a wet-suit to one of the starling swims so I could float under their mumurations for longer. It was low tide but big seas causing a strong rip by the pier. I got caught in it quite early on but managed to get out. I then stupidly got caught in it again as I was floating and not paying any attention to where the current was taking me. I then did all the wrong things and tried to swim out of it against it before coming to my senses. Again I was spat out further up the beach, exhausted. But like riding a bike or a horse I make sure I go back in. And I am more risk averse when swimming in skins.

My biggest fear is my beloved buoys. Happy to swim out and round them – but I give them a wide berth because their anchor chains totally spook me!

Nice to meet you!

Next week it is time to meet Co-Founder Cath

Bird of Paradox: Finding your Flow

“And if we swim with the current, instead of fighting against it, we find a momentary state, one of motion and yet paradoxical stillness that is flow” Bonnie Tsui

I still get people exclaiming surprise that I suffer from Anxiety and Depression. After all these years, lots of no shows at parties, periods of silence, people that have known me for years are still shocked when they ‘find out’.  Even when people have read my blogs, which are basically a handbook for interacting with me, they proclaim they had no idea and overwhelm me with intense and intimate questions which see me recoil instantly. You see I am a bird of Paradox. I have a loud, outgoing, confident public persona and I have a much protected, social introvert private life. Very few get to see both as I am ashamed of the latter.

I also have paradoxical emotions and feelings about the same situation at the same time. Which has me well equipped for C19 lock-down – everyone is swinging from high to low. Feeling anxious one minute and feeling relieved at the slow pace the next. For once my feelings are deemed NORMAL. Oh the times I have wished to be normal, but I didn’t really imagine a global crisis would be the way I achieved it. I have always had periods of energy and enthusiasm mixed in with periods of overwhelming sadness and staring into space. They can happen in the same day, the same hour and the same moment. But having lived like this for years, I have found my flow.

I am best in the mornings, I am fresh and ready. How I start the day can pretty much dictate how it will pan out. So my routine is awake around 5/5.30, I am an early bird, and drink a vat of tea in bed coming round slowly whilst my husband gets up for work and leaves the house around 6am. I will then do emails, write and do some work with a lot of pottering in the quiet kitchen. The teens normally surface or are woken at 7.45 and are gone by 8.30am. I’ll do some form of exercise and then the day starts. None of this is now happening. No one leaves the house, there is no pottering, exercise is sporadic, the only consistent is the amount of tea I drink, which will always remain a lot!

So I’m having to find a new flow. This new flow sees the social introvert in me thriving. But hiding yourself away all of the time isn’t exactly healthy although I am enjoying the removal of social pressure, particularly nights out, I know this isn’t necessarily good for me. Regular exposure to situations that make me anxious form a vital part of my Cognitive Behavioural Therapy.

I find flowing easier when coping mechanisms like swimming are in my life and just when I need it the most, it has been taken away. Bonnie Tsui, author of ‘Why We Swim’ said it best recently in a New York Times article ‘What I Miss Most is Swimming.’ She said, “And if we swim with the current, instead of fighting against it, we find a momentary state, one of motion and yet paradoxical stillness that is flow” So I am learning to accept my new environment and go with the flow.

Having lived my whole life with paradoxical thoughts about my existence and personal circumstances I am actually adapting to the current situation well. I guess years of practice has me game ready. I accept my conflicting thoughts about my current living arrangements, upheaval of my precious routine and limited access to the beach and sea.  I am not trying to change my mindset with gratitude exercises, positive affirmations or celebrating getting dressed for the day. Having furious thoughts about the world, silent sobbing moments and over-reactions to the smallest things are my state du jour. And right now it’s acceptable, reasonable and frankly unavoidable.

So in the absence of swimming in the sea, give yourselves permission to feel all the feelings. Positive and negative, rational and irrational. I am of the school of thought that no feelings are irrational as some valid emotion has triggered them. And at the moment a global pandemic is it. So I asked myself, how am I feeling?

Well I feel relieved because life was beginning to get very busy before all of this happened and now the pressure is off to perform at my optimum and there is absolutely no chance of burn out. I am fretful for my family and friends and their safety and wellbeing. I am hopeful that the outpouring of appreciation for our poorly paid key workers, the rejection of being productive as a measure of success and the limitless capacity for human kindness will continue when all of this is over. I am overwhelmed at the opportunities available to me to finish DIY, clean out cupboards and learn a new language. I am grateful that my eldest is confined to quarters with me before she flies the nest. I am nervous that social isolation will undo all the hard work I have done to balance my brain and preserve my mental health. I am content in my own company, never bored and pottering in the kitchen and garden is something I could do all and every day, especially when the sun is shining. I am concerned about the uncertainty of lock-down, how long will it last, when can I plan gatherings, holidays and trips. And that was just a quick check in!

I know I cannot control the current situation or how I feel about it. Having paradoxical thoughts and emotions is OK and for once deemed ‘normal’. They ebb and flow like the tide. But I can control how I react to those feeling and emotions. So it’s not really like I’ve found my flow, as the blog title suggest, but rather I am going with the flow. Acceptance is my reaction.

Author: Seabird Kath

NB; this blog was actually a lot longer but has been split into two. So part II will be next weekend.

 

Unprecedented Times

A Guest Blog by Seabird Claudine

It was a clear, crisp day.  Filled with sunshine, then rain, then sun, then hail, all within 5 minutes.  A typical spring day then.  Perhaps not typical as in regular, but typical as in we’ve seen it all before, weather-wise.  Four seasons in one day.  It’s one of those days where we don’t go out.  Is that because we can’t be bothered?  Because it’s the weekend and getting the children dressed and out of the house is more effort than it’s worth?  Or is it because we are on lock-down, the pandemic of Covid 19 wreaking havoc on the world?  The entire world.

As I sit in the sunshine whilst the heavens aren’t opening, I wonder if there are parts of the world unaffected, remote and cut off from others in a way that is protecting them from all that is going on.  I wonder what it would be like to live in those communities.  Before this, as well as now, I sometimes dream of the ideal “getting away from it all” lifestyle change, as many do I’m sure.  A log cabin on the coast in a remote part of Canada, on the Sunshine Coast, maybe near Sechelt, away from people, near bears, (but friendly ones), with a glorious sea to swim in literally on my doorstep.  Or in another daydream fantasy, one of those houses the characters live in on Big Little Lies; a modern mansion on the beach with a luxurious expansive deck, with sofas bigger than my entire living room, and a roaring fire-pit, overlooking the waves, and a little wooden boardwalk down to the golden sand.  Anyway, I digress.

“It is unprecedented” is the phrase of the week/ fortnight/ month – who knows?  We have all lost track of time.  It’s like something from a Sci-fi film.  People in hazmat suits (a term I wasn’t even aware of until the virus hit) all over the news, looking like they are treating people who are radioactive, or taking evidence from a crime scene.  Who knew the world could be put on hold in this way?  For some it has all come to a standstill. No-one needs certain products and services right now, maybe they never really did.  I have always looked at certain jobs and industries and wondered if they really needed to exist.  Occasionally even my own.  But for some it isn’t like that.

Simultaneously other people’s worlds have gone from high pressure to incredibly intense.  People working night and day to adapt, to change to find a need and meet it.  For some that means profiteering: opening a shop especially to sell overpriced toilet roll and hand sanitizer.  For others that means thinking how they can use their skills to provide a slightly different service and continue to make a living; restaurants offering take away service, coffee delivered to your door, everything possible being offered online, even the things that “couldn’t possibly” be done online before.  Whilst others do their best with the limited resources they have to take care of others.  People risking their lives working in hospitals with the most sick, trying to reduce the death toll and slow the spread.  People have made the sacrifice of leaving their own homes and families so they don’t take the virus home to their loved ones or from their loved ones to the workplace where the most vulnerable are.

I miss things.  I know I am privileged to have a nice house, large garden, family members to keep me company, the tech I need to stay connected.  I still have the ability to go down to the seafront occasionally, get in the sea, as long as I do it alone.  But I’m not sure if I should. It isn’t as much fun as going with a few others, or the big social swims when I am in the right mood for them, but it is still glorious to get into the shimmering sea and feel the bitey cold on my body.

I’ve realised, or remembered, that I am the kind of person who manages with a new situation, and doesn’t really notice how much I miss something until I get it back again.  It sounds a bit contradictory, but I just plod along, feeling not quite right but OK, and dealing with the challenges that “home schooling” and struggling children bring.  Some days are a battle, calming down the children who show their angst in ways that are difficult for the rest of us to be around.

But last week we had a zoom call (again, an app I was unaware of until the corona virus hit) with salty seabirds, most of us getting in a cold bath as a substitute for the sea.  And I realised how much I miss them.  I miss the whoops and squeals as we get in the sea.  I miss the chatter and banter when we are in.  I miss the giggles.  I miss the dialogue: sometimes ridiculous and hilarious and sometimes profound.  I miss the support when I need a moan.  I miss the empathy when I have a cry.  I miss the hugs when a fellow seabird just knows I need one.  I miss touch.  I miss conversations about something other than my family, school work, and C19.  I miss the wide open space.  I miss the horizon, I look at and enjoy its endlessness, it represents infinite possibilities.

But this too shall pass.  Many people are in far more difficult situations than me.  Many people won’t make it through.  Many people will be living with the financial, emotional and physical fall out of this for years.  I am lucky, but that doesn’t mean I’m not struggling.  It doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to feel low.

For many, life will go back to normal, soon enough, and we’ll be back to rushing around, cramming too much in, getting stressed, spending money.  But at least then we will be back with our wider tribes, we will have the freedom to come and go as we please, we will have the sea and we will have the horizon, where anything is possible.

Author: Seabird Claudine

 

Sea Sick

Sea Sick – when you cannot “Accept and Continue”

Not the motion sea sick, but the not going through the motions sea sick. My normal daily going through the motions will inevitably involve the sea or beach. But at the moment it does not. So I am sea sick. Much like being home sick,  I have preoccupying thoughts of the sights and sounds of the sea. I am finding it difficult to think about anything else and being away from he beach for such a long period of time is causing me distress.

It’s not just the swimming that I am longing for. It’s this time of year swims. Time of year swims only happen once a year. As a year round skin swimmer it is a time when the sea is pleasantly cold rather than uncomfortably so. Well, to the acclimatised winter swimmer it’s pleasant. The beaches are still quiet enough to be secluded and your kit bag is a lot lighter to carry. You can lie on the shingle and soak up the sun in just a jumper. You can actually swim head in without pain searing across your skull. The cold water kick and high is gone for another year but the cold contentment of a spring swim brings an altogether different joy.

It’s also the beach that I long for. There is something about clambering over the pebbles, catching your first sight of the shoreline and your shoulders just drop. Everything becomes muffled and muted. The harsh sounds of traffic, sirens and seabirds are all made to sing in more gentle tones accompanied by the sound of the shingle. Especially early in the mornings before the sea breeze has got up, there’s a stillness to the beach, any beach, like no other.

My longing isn’t just for my local beach. Visiting different beaches a couple of times a year, particularly in the South West and Wales has been a family tradition forever. Never in the height of summer, but normally in the spring we will rent a small cottage, pack up the car and head for a new horizon. It’s part of the winning formula for managing my mental health. I can only really rest away from home.

Our sea from sea holidays always follow the same pattern. I still get up early in the morning and  walk the dog on the beach with a flask of tea. That stillness is ever present on every beach as the sun rises.  Days are spent on long clifftop walks on the SW or Pembrokeshire coastal paths to find secret beaches. The harder to find and clamber down to, the better. The evenings are spent in or on the water. Depending on the nature of our holiday beach we head down when the madding crowds have disappeared. The kids will carry or drag surf boards, SUPs or kayaks. We will carry BBQ or a camping cooking stove, booze and lots of blankets. We will make pebble patterns, decorate rocks, look for sea glass, swim, play cricket….. until it’s dark. Rinse and repeat.

Today we are meant to be in Cornwall, for what was our last time with Libby, my eldest,  before she heads to the USA for four years (or forever) and our family becomes the Fab Four instead of the Famous Five. That makes me sick to my stomach. The loss of this particular time by the sea, the last time with my daughter, is felt as pain. The type of physical pain caused by grief. Instead of listening to her laughing in the waves I am experiencing waves of gut wrenching pain.  And there is no abating it. I am grieving.

As an antidote to my ever increasing anxiety that my daughter will soon be flying the nest, my husband and I planned a lot of trips to give me something to focus on and look forward to in 2020. C19 has had other ideas. So far the virus has robbed me of a trip to Ireland and planned swims at Greystones and the Forty Foot. And now, like so many others, a family Easter holiday. I am not hopeful that our annual extended family (cousins, aunts, grand parents and siblings) holiday will go ahead at the end of May. This year a house, called The Beach House, had been booked in Dorset for the duration. Daily sea swims on my doorstep and the prospect of encouraging family members to join me. They always do, as they know how much it means to me. They do it for me which makes me all kinds of happy.

I know I need to accept the things I cannot control. The wise ones on social media have all shared their Venn diagrams, 12 steps to recovery and ways to change your mindset. I’ve had enough Acceptance Commitment CBT to last a lifetime. Acceptance will most likely cure the sea sickness. But acceptance isn’t something that I find easy. It took me long enough to accept that my wiring is rigged differently causing a frazzled brain  – but when my freedom is compromised – asking me to accept under the constraints of the current situation –  it’s asking too much. So grieving continues, and I know it will subside with time, but I won’t be rushed into it by trying to accept, to me, the unacceptable. I accept no swimming in the sea. I accept no pints in the pub. I do not accept my stolen family time, away from home, by the sea.

Instead of acceptance, I go for swims in my mind. I really realise how that sounds. Like the wise words of someone on social media!  But I’m going anyway and you are very welcome to come with me.

With April comes warmer seas and the end to winter storms. In theory. Things don’t always go according to plan as Mother Nature has firmly shown us over the last few weeks. But what is always true is that when April arrives, the sea temperature begins to rise quite rapidly. The  prevailing wind swings back from NW to SW bringing warmer air over the Atlantic. After the prolonged sunshine of recent weeks I would estimate the sea temperature is now a comfortable 12 degrees – warm enough for head in swimming.  

So my swim bag includes goggles again and footwear is flip flops. I cycle down to the seafront armed just with a towel , flask of tea, a book, hat, goggles and my cossie. I make my way across the shingle, towards  the sea, winter apprehension replaced by a spring in my step. I am on the look out for a spot, flat, sheltered from the wind but in the sunshine, away from people. There’s space by the breakwater. One of the wooden ones, I prefer. I love the colour they bleach to over time and the how smooth the sea has made them. There are always posts and knots that can be used to hang towels and perch cups of tea. Sheltered from the wind.

It’s mid tide, so deep enough to swim but enough beach exposed to not be busy. Course sand and small shingle are at the shore line. I settle in front of a shingle bank, by the breakwater and begin to spread out my things, claiming my spot. As I begin to strip off I watch the sea. I should be watching to work out which way to swim and where to get in. But I’m not, I’m just quietly watching. The swim has started. 

I have a unique way of entering the water. I just walk until I have to swim. No fuss, and at this time of the year no swearing. The winter frantic first strokes and floating on my back have been replaced with a gentle glide. The current is strong pulling me west so I swim east toward the West Pier. The sun is in my face making it hard to sea but there is a sunlit trail of sparkle to swim in. After a while I slip into an easy head in freestyle. My face, hands and feet are cold but I am able to find a rhythm. I haven’t seen the seabed for months but now I am able to follow the lines in the sand again.

I don’t want to stay in for too long. Not because I am afraid of the cold but because I want to stay on the beach for a while post swim. I turn and float with the current – occasional strokes but really letting the sea do all the work. I swim until my knees scrap the shingle and stand up.  I stay near the shore for a while, diving under the water again and again. I don’t feel I’ve had a dip unless I have fully immersed myself and the pointy toe perfection of a handstand does not come without practice.

Back on the beach I throw on a towel and face the sun. The wind is warm and I close my eyes for a few moments. There’s no post swim high, fuelling a fierce need to get dry and dressed fast. There’s a slow sedate contentment that the sea was cold enough to still feel it on the shore and will remain for a while. I am not high, I am content. I stay until the comfortable chill tells me it’s time to go.

When home, I hang my things out to dry in the garden.  Radiator drying is no longer required. My feet are still cold, slippers are donned and shingle is still caught between my toes. It makes me smile. Hours later I can still taste the salt on my face and the skin on my shins begins to crack. In  the hot sun of the summer this can be unbearable, but in the spring it’s a welcome reminder of my swim. I stay salty all day.

So until the sea sickness subsides I will continue to head to the beach in my head. Next time I may step over that shingle to find a bunch of seabirds there. I imagine the new dawn when Seabirds reassemble will be something quite spectacular.

Author: Seabirds Kath

 

Seabird Sanctuary

looking for solace during strange times

Now, more than ever I need the sea to save me.  Certainty helps me survive, but those sands have shifted under my feet. The sanctuary of the Seabirds has also been stolen as the flock scatters across different shores. But what’s really making me anxious?

 

My Social Media stream is full of advice on how to weather this storm. Get outside-check. Swim – check.  Run – check. And there are so many silver linings to this cloud. The world slowing down has already had such a positive impact on the environment. People are picking up the phone to check on family, friends and neighbours. Communities are pulling together to provide practical solutions to problems we never foresaw. But my anxiety is still brewing behind closed doors.

And it’s the closed doors that are the problem. I’m not worried about a crippled economy, friends and family falling ill and the end of the world as we know it. Well I am. But I worry about that shit ALL OF THE TIME and I take to the beach and the sea to get back balance and continue operating as a ‘normal’ human being. The anxiety that is brewing is all about changes to my small insignificant ( but not to me) world.

I control my small world to the enth degree. I am Captain of my ship. My First Mate is normally exploring uncharted seas across the European continent  returning late into the evenings or at weekends. The Bosun is either at college or playing football. And the Cabin Boy is usually at school, playing football, out on his skateboard or locked below deck on his Xbox. I know where they need to be and when. I also know with a degree of certainty that I will have the Mother Ship to myself from 8.30am to 4pm every day. But now I don’t!

I don’t like change. I like routine, plans and lists. This year, at Christmas time,  the First Mate decided to take 2 weeks annual leave so the whole crew could all be together at home. This was all good while there were presents flowing but then it was crap. No structure to our days, shitty weather confining us to our quarters, we got cabin fever. Well I did. I longed for them to return to work, school and college and for the reappearance of my routine. A routine that is filled with numerous but solitary activities.

When I am home alone I can be the real me not the Oscar winning performance me. Acting ‘normal’ can be knackering but I have self care solutions. My version of self care can be staying in pyjamas til lunchtime and pottering. And it can be an early morning run on the seafront followed by a swim with the Salty Seabirds. It all depends on my mood and workload. But I only have think about me – not 3 other people. My small insignificant world is expanding when everyone else’s is shrinking.

These self-care strategies have been honed to perfection over years of suffering from depression and more recently anxiety. I have the luxury of part time flexible working from home to put them into practice. But these interlopers, formally known as my family, are now invading my physical space and my head space.

I fully appreciate how this sounds. My biggest fear is something akin to not being able to have a bath whilst watching shit telly in the middle of the day in peace and quiet. While the world is waking up to a pandemic the size and scale of which has never been heard of, I sound like a self-indulgent you know what. But activities like daytime baths, alongside the more well regarded ones like quietly reading, walking the dog alone are how I silence the mental monkeys. Without adequate alone time I don’t get to recharge my batteries and I will not make it to the evening – the time when the whole crew are on board and they need a fully functioning Captain.

My swims with the Salty Seabirds have taken a battering too. My swimming schedule looks something like this; On Monday I attend the biggest swim of the week as it is the start of the week and it’s after a yoga and gym class so my head is able to handle a crowd. Tuesday I’ll opt for an intimate one. Thursday I go with the crowd post run – again after some fresh air, exercise and calming chat with my fellow seabird runners, lots of people don’t faze me. And I may again dip on Fridays with one or two others. If I go to any of the larger swims I tend to get there early and chill on the beach a few groynes over before everyone arrives. This is my schedule. This is my sanctuary. But sensible social distancing is changing the schedule.

When I can handle the big swims they are the best. There’s always laughter and love. But now we are having to sort out smaller swims at different times and places. The community we worked so hard to build is suffering at the hands of unwashed hands. The cold water high is still possible, the respite from day to day worries is still very much achievable but the community that is at it’s core is dispersing. My worry is that people will form smaller exclusive groups and not come back together when the time comes. My worry is our strong bond will be broken. My worry is that some of the seabirds will stop swimming.  I worry.

So what’s the solution? I love my self-enforced self-isolation but I also love my Salty community. I am a bird of paradox.

For my crew we need a family meeting and a timetable of when mum needs to be left the f@?k alone. Especially when I am writing, another form of self-care for me. I need complete silence and solitude when I write as it is one of the few times I allow my brain the freedom to think and it responds at a speed it is hard to keep up with. I have vacated the office to allow the First Mate to work there so I need to build a nook in our bedroom with views over the sea and place a big no entry sign on the door.

For my community I need to look to the community for solutions, which they are already providing in abundance. The challenge  is moving away from social media to maintain your sanity versus remaining connected to your community. So we’re going to look at staring some on-line groups and virtual swims so we can continue to share the swim love.

Whatever my worries are, small or big, self-indulgent or survival, the sea will remain a constant in my life, as will the sanctuary of the seabirds. As for my crew, well, time will tell!

Author: Seabird Kath

Sending you all a shit ton of love  – stay well and stay salty! If you have any suggestion on how to stay connected please get in touch.

Community ideas!

Seabirds Rowena has set up a Women and Nature Book Club that will start on-line until we are able to stop social distancing. There is a small fee to join that will be donated to the Seabirds Women Wellbeing and Water projects.

There will be writing workshops online too hosted by Seabird Sam – we are just going to need to practice with zoom first!

I’m really keen to get the ‘Meet the Flockers’ series of blogs ready to publish. Please get in touch if you would be happy for us to share your story so other Seabirds can get to know each other a bit better. Spaces for 3 more! Can be done over the phone or face to face at a safe distance!

There are lots of opportunities to get involved in the blogs too. We have another three series in  the concept stage.  1. Brighton Beach Community will be a series of interviews with people that live or earn a living by our beaches here in the city. 2. Britain’s Beach Review will be exactly that – when you swim on different beaches in the UK we want to hear all about it from the cafes, to the cliffs and everything in between. 3. Seabirds on Tour – if you have visited or swim in another part of the country or world in lakes, rivers or waterfalls we want to hear about it. I did have trips planned in Ireland and Jersey this year, fingers crossed they will still happen. Where will your swimming take you?

Record sound bites and videos of your smaller swims and share them in the group.  Snippets of your post swim chitter chatter. Descriptions of the sea. Time lapse videos of swims

Positive Pebble Project – get out your sharpies and start writing on pebbles and then leave them in places you know others swim. Positive affirmations, meaningful messages, drawings, whatever you want. If you find one take a picture of it, post it in the group and put it back for the next person to find it.