I needed the ocean this year. I needed it to connect with myself, to drag myself to, to put my head under the water and feel my eyes and scalp react to the cold - jolting them back to life after days, weeks staring at the computer screen and my mobile phone.
A health issue and by-product of the extreme and unnecessary emotional and intellectual stress I put myself under in the last decade has been depersonalisation and in 2020-21 more than ever the unrealness of our world has heightened this condition. I could have spent the bulk of this year in bed wondering if this is in fact my own arm, fingers, hand - but for the sea. Last year I promised myself I would go in at least once a month every month in 2021 in a bid to ~feel ~something. This weekend I fulfilled that promise to myself.
Here is a record of 12 swims in 12 months. Here is a song you can listen to while you read.
January 2021: This was not an enjoyable swim. It was so cold I was scared and lost control of my breathing. The most important element of sea swimming (except for knowing how to swim) is breathing. If you panic or lose control of your breath it can be dangerous. This swim, in the Atlantic Ocean, took place on Castlerock beach on the north coast of Ireland and was more of a plunge. It lasted under two minutes. As I left the sea I struggled to breathe. I went back to my house where I lived alone, had a hot shower and sat in front of the wood burning stove for hours afterwards. I started a new job this month and worried about the uncertainty of it all, hoped I could make good. The dark evenings were difficult to get through and my life at this point was one of hibernation - grateful for the warmth, a shed of sticks and logs and listening to the rain plummet down day in, day out.
February 2021: Another swim on Castlerock beach. I was more prepared for the cold this time and managed my breathing well. This month I read Adrienne Rich’s biography which was the first book I managed since the start of the pandemic last year.
March 2021: March was a soft month and this time I had company for my swims. Eimear and I ventured to the Herring Pond in Portstewart for the first time since November 2020 and as you can see - we were not alone! Three of the Portrush-based “menopausal mermaids” were already in, wearing woollen hats. The sea however, tricked us this time. We stayed in too long, thinking it was warmer than it was and were punished with chills. Customary warm drinks and baked goods on Portstewart’s decadent coffee promenade did help with heating up but we felt the after-effects for a good few hours. However, not to be deterred I also went into the Herring Pond on St. Patrick’s Day. My first sober St. Patrick’s day since childhood. How wonderful to waken up with a clear mind on the 18th of March. Also this month, we at Alliance for Choice in Derry held a vigil in memory of Sarah Everard who was abducted and murdered in London by a serving police officer. As a pretty, middle class, white woman, Sarah captured the attention of the media and brought to the fore the endemic danger and violence that accompanies being a woman in this world. We had socially-distanced memorials in Derry City and in Portstewart. Both Amy and I had a lump in our throats when we went to set up the vigil and people in Portstewart had already left flowers in anticipation of it. So much for the argument that feminism doesn’t exist in rural Ireland.
April 2021: The Herring Pond in Portstewart has started to warm up!
May 2021: I had many, many glorious swims all across the north coast this month. This photograph taken on Castlerock beach shows the hues of blues that the beautiful long evenings encourage. Now I swim twice in a day and try to get in every day if I can. As the schools are still in session, I have these places to myself most of the time. A perfect day at the moment is waking up, going to the gym, eating a nice lunch, having a sea-swim, nice hot shower, an afternoon nap, reading and in the evening a wood fire with some gentle yoga in front of it. It has been a good month for getting in touch with myself and connecting with my body. The long evenings are wonderful.
June 2021: More swims on Castlerock beach, here with Mussenden Temple in the background. Built in the mid- 17th Century, my sister loathes Mussenden - she considers it a perfect example of the lack of imagination of the coloniser. Taking Roman-style architecture and implanting it onto the wild coast of Ireland, likely in an effort to ‘civilise’ the landscape and the natives. It doesn’t work and it is incongruent, says Dervlagh. I see her point of view..
July 2021: Summertime is in full swing on the north coast, with throngs of visitors here every day now. I swim every single day. The water is warm and beautiful. Sometimes I take down my wetsuit and surfboard and make some wobbly attempts at trying to stand up. It’s fun and I feel light and happy this summer. I stay up until the sun sets at 10pm. I barbeque and my skin becomes freckled. This summer I have been outdoors more than ever - camping, stand up paddle boarding, meeting up with the Salty Sea Sisters group and even giving a “sea sauna” a go with Eimear and Méabh. In July my landlady tells me she is moving back into her house and now I must move out of my idyllic home and things must change from the pensioner-esque lifestyle I have cultivated. I am reminded how much I hate change before giving myself over to the inevitability of it. I start to think about and plan my next move.
August 2021: A trip to Galway for work meant a trip to the famous diving board out at Salthill. I can definitively say this trip and the evening this photograph was taken was the most memorable day of my year. The water in Salthill was so warm, like what I imagine the French Riveria to be like. Jumping from the board was so thrilling (I didn’t have the bravery to go from the top!), the people were so kind and fun. After my swim, I sat and watched the diving board scene for two hours letting the evening sun dry my hair, thinking of the Gemma Hayes song from lifetimes ago and feeling so connected and grateful to be from Ireland, to be in Ireland. There is just no feeling that can match the taste of salt on your lips, the aliveness of your skin after the sea, the soles of your feet sore from pebbles being comforted by the dimming evening light. This is what believe alive is. This is what is important.
September 2021: Two weeks into my move from Ireland to Puglia, I travel up the coast to Polignano-a-mare and spend an afternoon in the Adriatic Sea. Drifting on the azure waters is like an out-of-body experience. The water is genuinely warm. There is no thrill - even in the summer the Atlantic still elicits a yelp - this is a classical literature version of the sea. If Middlemarch did oceans… Working remotely and having to leave the north coast meant there was an opportunity to do something adventurous. So I missed both the All Ireland semi- and final where my beloved team won(!!!!!!!), and rented an apartment in the village of Molfetta, about twenty minutes north of Bari, Italy. I had never been to Italy before but have always wanted to and I decided to throw caution to the wind and try something new. My apartment in Molfetta is small but has a bed and a hob, wifi and a table. It has a small balcony that looks out onto other apartments adorned with minty green shutters. The sea is at the bottom of my street. Puglia is an extremely rural region of Italy and in order to do my shopping, I need to visit the butcher, the baker, the candlestick-maker individually. Food is a priority in Italian communities - and so is the siesta. Days usually go: wake up at 7am, siesta from 1-5pm, restaurants open at 7.30pm. During siesta time, everything is closed. This teaches me patience! I try pistachio gelato on the recommendation of Zoë and fall in love. I download a dating app and do not fall in love.
October 2021: Two months in Italy and I have become obsessed with the hot chocolates served at the coffee bars that litter every part of this beautiful country. My language skills have come on exponentially as has my confidence. Rachel comes to visit and we explore Lecce, a stunning baroque city and spend a weekend in Otranto, a town famous for its cathedral of skulls of “martyrs” from the Crusades. From Otranto, you can see Albania on the horizon and we walk through cobbled streets and explore fortresses. The water is balmy, even though it is October. We sunbathe and tan, drink aperol spritz and put the world to rights.
November 2021: This month I wrap up my remote job and embark on a new one. I move to Dublin and find myself back in that limbo where a city is half-closed and half-open. It is difficult to meet up with friends and the dark evenings emphasise this. Sometimes I feel lonely. I read Emily Ratajkowski’s book and feel deep compassion and pride for her? The one constant amongst all the change in life is the sea. This month I take the opportunity to swim at the historic Forty Foot. The water was beautifully chilly, the people were friendly and this is a side to Dublin I’ve never experienced. I love it so much. Hopefully this bodes well for the future as I’ll be in the capital now for the next year.
December 2021: I swam at 2pm in the afternoon in the Nun’s Pool in Bundoran. This was extremely cold and my breathing was not good. Knowing I was going to Voya Seaweed Baths afterwards was the only reason I did this. I did not want to!
That is perhaps a good summary of the year: I didn’t want to, but I did - that was 2021.
I loved this read :) And I love what swimming can do for our days, or at least I'm learning. Are you swimming through the winter? I intend to do so this coming winter (I'm in Sydney).