Sunday 9th January 2022
Hard frost. Cold night. The prom with a snow layer, very light. We gingerly tiptoe to the beach. Mum and I arm in arm stepping across the slippery stones in search of the freshest cool air. We stand in the one tiny patch of sun to reach the beach. The air right next to the waves feels different somehow. Looking back down the sand people hug the water’s edge. Are they unknowingly drawn to the air quality next to the waves perhaps?
Listening to the waves there seems to be a slowness to them. Long periods between the occasional roller. The sea is in a calm, relaxed state. An electric blue colour to the firth. Paddleboarders out, families on the sand for Sunday strolls.
No birds. None at all. Searching for feathered friends and eventually, I find one gull flying up to avoid the rolling surf before settling back on the water. Maybe they are all keeping warm somewhere together. Where do they go? A birdless boatless sea. Feels a bit odd. A stunning cold day with a crispness to the light looking across to the snowy Ben.
After dropping mum home I return to the beach for sunset, for my first Ice Swim of the year. Water temperature is now below 5C and submerging myself in the rising tide the cold painfully numbs everything it touches. Diving forward and front crawling towards the groyne it feels like my face is in the freezer. I can feel the blood in my jugular, face and neck draining away, contracting to the heart. Swimming becomes survival at such temperatures.
It requires all my mental focus simply to keep my crawl stroke going. After a little over ten minutes, my hands and feet are like blocks of ice and I stagger out of the sea hunting for my flask of tea, like a drunkard. Drunk on the joy of cold water swimming. Drunk on the sunset over the cold calm water. Somehow the cold swim clears the slate. Cleanses. Cold to the bone, yet buzzing, I stagger home. Internally and externally fresh and clean.
Nairn Beach Notes