I finished my normal 6:30 am jog and headed back to the car. Jogging along the seafront in the darkness is a lovely time spent. Only the odd whirr of a speeding cyclist creeping up on you and making you jump. But today was a little more exciting, as the sea was also trying to join me on the undercliff prom. The waves lashed against the wall, spiling their contents skywards, and then the strong sw wind taking the contents about 30m alng the promenade. Huge clumps of seaweed and I'm sure gerzillions of microscpic life form landing out of its natural place. Too late to worry about all that life gone to waste, I had to return (this time withthe wind behind me) to the advancing SSF bods keen to get their weekly fill. Up to the carpark, and I past Pete, who I realised at that point was unaware of what lay ahead. A high tide with seriously unhappy windy bits. Grabbed my stuff form the car and returned o the beach only to see Pete dragging a large container from the lappnig sea. A ship container about the size of a mini hot tub was beached. Obviously thrown overboard during the night. Its origin was given away by the printing on the side. Portsmouth fishing. I wish they would keep themselves to themselves, I don't know.
Anyhow, I unleashed a thought on Pete as we brought the container up to the top beach (that was after pete had to run back to rescue his ag from being gobbled up some some serious incoming waves). Why don't we go in a thte beach further East which is sheltered by sw winds. Ok, he said, up for anything and the breakers looked hungry for blood on our beach. Soon after, Joan, Sara and Domino (nick named 'the donkey' for this blog) joined us and we marched down to the said alternative beach. Having arrived it didn't look quite as quiet as before, but hey ho, we were there now. we stripped down after a bit of chat and the wind was popping over the groyne giving us a chill. down the equivalent of a red ski run of shingle to the sea ad in we went. well, I say in we went. Pete was first, dodged a couple, dived a couple and was suddenly out there, showing off his masterful waterman skills. Joan next up, tried a couple and the jaws closed on her, avoiding a sudden pulverising she was content with sitting onthe shore and letting it all wash over her. Me next, shoeless I went in to knee deep. I knew a couple more steps and I would reach the shelf and either have to get in or run back. but as a wave broke during me decision, a rush of about 3 ton of single washed over my numbing feet. painfull!!! note to self, wear shoes in wild water. I was beaten back and had to be content with wathcing the master at play already out there. Sara next, opting to follow Joans lead and ooh and ahh'd as the freezig water washed over. Feeling rather wimpish, I gave up and internally gave myself a slap, but some days you just have to know when to give in. Any how, content with watching the huge breakers hit the undercliff wall not 50 meters away, and also loving Pete's attempts at body surfing /dredging the bottom of shingle, I battled to get dressed and once joined safely by the others, tucked into left over mince pies and a whole flask of tea. It was proper cold air temp.
hail the hero of the hour, Pete.
swimmers Pete the pacific creature, Joan the sitter, Sara the ooh-er and Ollie the shoeless wimp.
non swimmers. the cheerful donkey.
in, 7:30
out 7:40
temp, I wouldn't know but my feet felt cold.
conditions: bordering on armageddon.
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