Witness
The sea today was beautiful. The sea today was scary.
The sea today was beautiful. Cool and clear. Sunbeams twinkled to the bottom. Low, uneven swell washed across the reef; coupled with an offshore breeze, it swish-swashed the water around. Fun water for swimming in, as waves crash on your head and the current runs with you and against you in surprise moves, never the same in any direction.
It’s my first swim (apart from one lazy lap on Wednesday) after a little break from my month of swimming and goodness, does it feel good to be in the water. As I cruise to the end of the final lap I recognise the tranquility that has settled in my chest. Soothed and salty, with the blessed school of mermaids around me.
It’s Good Friday. We’ve swum a little later than usual and the crowd is starting to grow as we leave the water. Somehow, we are the only people in the queue for coffee at the Red Van. On a long weekend that is entirely unheard of. We note the time, as if this miracle is replicable: 8:44am.
The Red Van sets up and serves coffee from the ocean-facing corner of the carpark. It’s takeaway-only but there are several benches, rocks, and barriers to perch on. With five of us needing a seat we head to the longest one, which also happens to have the best view over the surf break. King Skinks often scuttle across the path, hoping for crumbs. I am not a fan of these mini-dragons, so am pleased when the only one we see is a baby that hides when we get too close. There’s been a little bit of rain and the dry scrub has a tinge of green.
We sit and chat and laugh. Enjoying the sunshine and the company, when someone says,
“what’s that out there?”
A lone surfer has been pushed beyond the break and out to sea. The wind isn’t very strong, but on a big board it is difficult to paddle against. We keep watch, and someone runs for binoculars. Suddenly, a second surfer appears, about 100 metres from the first. It is clear this surfer is in distress. They keep falling off the board, kicking and splashing, and we fear for them. They are low in the water.
Usually there is a rescue helicopter patrolling the coast, but we haven’t seen it today and can’t remember when it stops running for the season. In any case, these people are in trouble. We call the police.
April is salmon season. Huge schools of Australian Salmon cruise with the cool current, trailing sharks behind them and flocks of birds above. A school surrounds the surfers. The surface boils with activity. Birds dive bomb. The surfers are right in the middle of it. We move from fear of witnessing a drowning to fear of something far more violent.
Within these moments, the rescue helicopter arrives and other surfers at the main break have spotted the people in trouble and make their way towards them. Paddle out 500m, paddle back to shore with extra boards and bodies. From over the hill behind us there is the sound of sirens, and a police van makes its way to the carpark.
Everyone is fine.
We go back down to the beach to make sure and see the surfers and their boards standing in the shallows. A man carrying a surfboard, who looks exhausted, goes past us towards the showers and we think he must have been one to do a lot of paddling.
The ocean is still beautiful. The sun still twinkles.
The circling helicopter and the sirens have alerted the crowd to an incident but as everything looks fine no one really knows what has happened and the energy soon returns to normal.
With slightly dazed and shaky looks we plan to swim again tomorrow, say goodbye to each other, and leave the surfers, the beach, and the crowd to themselves.
I wonder if the surfers realise what has been mobilised around them?
Thank goodness for the emergency services. It is reassuring to witness the systems work, and work quickly.
Thank goodness for the stronger surfers who were willing to paddle out.
A reminder, on a glorious day for swimming, that the ocean is unpredictable.
A reminder, at a time of deep division, that community exists.
Stay salty, safely.
Katie xx
Flotsam and Jetsam
The little pieces of information I’ve found interesting and are somewhat related to swimming, the ocean, or this newsletter.
I’ve been reading widely on Substack this month. Here is a little list of articles I’ve enjoyed.
Read more about Laura Hall’s Scandinavian life over on her Substack Modern Scandinavian
I love reading the seaside meditations of North Sea Fan Club.
When I talk about my swimming life it is with an internal acknowledgement of the privilege I hold when it comes to access to safe, clean water, and the lifetime of swimming lessons I’ve had. From Fear to Freedom: One Woman’s Mission to End Drowning in South Africa highlights the reality of swimming as life-saving skill, and Mathutwana Portia Mokoena’s work to prevent drownings by improving access and infrastructure.
Finally, a little shoutout to JFT Beach, who has been swimming in the English water for the last 96-ish days, as part of his challenge to swim 100 days over winter. Another cold-water swimmer doing very brave things!