It’s a battle of wills this morning. It is still gloomy dark, no bright-lit sunrise to enthuse the soul. The only lights are those artificial twinklings of the airport on St Mary’s and the ever-present two red dots of the telegraph tower.
From the warmth of the kitchen I look out of the window into the gloom. Semi-naked in a swimming costume and towel I can already feel the chilly air on my skin when it hits the cold wind outside. Mind over matter I tell myself, steeling my resolve, it will be to wonder at the bodies ability to cope with the cold, the minds ability to cope. Luckily I have Ruthie for company, it’s always easier when there is someone to coax you on (she feels the same, neither wants to wimp out).
How elegant and glamorous we are!
The water is clear glassy grey, no waves, and bone chillingly cold. Toes and fingers soon ache and look like little pink sausages before thankfully numbing. I have to make a conscious effort to exhale the lungfulls of air, blowing streams of bubbles into the sea. My body’s desire is to snatch at the breath in constricted reaction to the cold.
Quickly that first shock dissipates and we can enjoy the skin-prickling sensation of the sea against our skin.
The quay is a hive of activity today and we watch like seals from the water as the children catch their boat to school. The cargo launch arrives bringing essential supplies to the island. Men with tractors and tractors line up to sort and collect goods. Two of the islands fishing boats chug into the bay, Emerald Dawn and Tradewinds, the fishermen preparing them to be taken out of the water for winter maintenance.
busy little quay
The energy in the water and on the water is buzzing and after a reluctant start, Ruthie and I leave the sea feeling energised and alive, ready for whatever the days brings. All we leave are footprints in the wet sand, we take with us so much more.