Tales from the topographic ocean

All Change!

The weather promised the first dip for ages and although the tide was low, Joan, Emma, Ollie, Hildi & Pete arrived full of hope only to discover a scene of utter devastation. This was no longer our beach, strange dead creatures from 1000 fathoms littered the shore, some had arranged themselves into fantastic and macabre still life on the groyne.  What was initially taken for spume at the water's edge revealed itself to be fresh chalky rock outcrops.  Mud and seaweed masked the entrance to the water and entrance was made with some trepidation.  Joan & Ollie quickly reported that the winter beach was too difficult an access route so all decamped to the "Big Beach".  Here, we could at least get in a few metres and get the shoulders under in a semblance of swimming.  This lasted until Pete trod on something which moved.  Not only did it move but he felt it sliding up his right leg.  Girlish yelping was permitted but Ollie manfully bent down and retrieved... a section of clinker from what was  probably a 1930s Antiguan fishing vessel (Ollie's interpretation).  It bore rusty pointy fangs so Ollie threw it back to attack another unwary swimmer.

Ollie also spotted an albino saltwater anaconda half washed up.  The boys grabbed the head and hauled it up the beach, Ollie guessed it to weigh 100kilos.  Both thought about taking it home in order to grace the garden but even coiled, it would fit in neither car.  We left it where it lay, its tail twitching in the surf. The final oddity was revealed as Pete returned to the hut only to find that the sea had swallowed up another pair of his underpants...

The beach has changed and felt a little odd, a line on the groyne indicates that we have lost around a metre of shingle and all of the sand.  It'll be a while before we can once more call the beach "home"

Dippers: Joan, Ollie, Emma, Hildi, Pete
Air and sea temp: 7 degrees
Sea: Mysterious and no longer ours

Like a stoat up a drainpipe

The "Stoat" surveys his playground

A topsy turvy sea, half way in with a vicious little uplift over the shelving shingle greeted Joan, Emma, Ollie & Pete.

It was cold, windy and decidedly uninviting but true to SSF form, the four faced the channel and with a united wimper decided to bask in the surf instead of a "proper" swim. Unnoticed however, Ollie spotted a gap in the surf and like the proverbial stoat, was in and halfway to a width before the others had noticed the yellow SSF cap ploughing its lonely furrow.

Pete made a game attempt to follow but was pushed back by the mighty surf.  Ollie did well to complete a width and a half and once in, basked in the glory of the only SSF that week to make the cut.  The warm water shower was barely needed this morning and the discussion was mainly how early the first Rotters swim could be made this year - surely, the sea is even at 8 degrees, unseasonably warm - maybe mid-March?

Attendees: Ollie, Joan, Emma, Pete
Swimmers: Ollie
Air temp: 8 degrees
Sea temp 8 degrees
Sea: Suitable for stoats