morning sea dip ritual in august

living

17 Aug

this post contains affiliate links

If I compare this ritual to how it feels for the rest of the year, August morning sea dips provide a level of easy calm to be relished. The knowledge that soon summer will be coming to an end carries with it a sense of nostalgia - it’s time to make the most of the warmth whilst anticipating those pink sky September sunrise dips and wrapping up afterwards in an oversized sweater. Here on the South Coast, by the time we hit August, the temperatures are generally pretty dependable – especially this year with the continual heatwaves. I love rolling out of bed and revelling in the ease of pulling on shorts and a cotton shirt over my bikini without having to think about the layer combinations needed after a colder season dip.

Already I’ve noticed the 6:00am sun is lower in the sky and there’s a different hue to the light. On 1st August this year, right on cue, I heard the geese fly over for the first time on their morning sojourn to the banks of the nearby river. A sound I always associate with the impending arrival of autumn and last year, of Biscuit and I on our sleepy morning walk around the village, both stopping to watch their impressive V formations, listening to the intensity of their wingbeats as they pass low over the rooftops.

Splash face, clean teeth, apply sunscreen and then a quick cup of tea before leaving for the short drive to the coast. If I’m getting into the water by 6:30 I consider it a solid tick in the morning ritual box. Theres no music in the car – just the windows down for the drive so I get to hear the birds and let the breeze from the coolest part of the day continue to wake me up properly.

Having parked along on coastal road underneath the pine trees, I get that all important first glance of the morning’s sea state - will it be mirror calm or alive with the surface ripples of a cross wind? I love the first option and am only happy for waves so long as they’re gentle and very small in stature. Anything else and it’ll just be a paddle – I’ve learnt the difference between joyful and something that induces fear. A short walk down the steps and I pop out between a row of ice cream coloured beach huts, heading for a patch of rock to de-robe and walk slowly into the sea for ten minutes of blue heaven. Water shoes are a must at this time of year as its Weaver fish season in Dorset, but I wear them all year round as it’s not a pure sand beach. Hopping and hobbling back over the stones to get dressed kind of ruins the feeling of serenity obtained from floating under the early morning sun.

Over the years, I’ve observed two camps of sea-dippers – those who go in groups and those who dip alone. I am firmly in the latter. I do see the appeal of the group – the sense of belonging to a community and being able to encourage each other on colder days is probably invaluable. But it’s not for me. I honestly prefer it if I don’t utter my first word of the day to anyone until I’m back home and walking in the front door. The contemplative silence is am important part of the process. Time to organise my thoughts, absorb whatever nature has to offer and just be in the quiet solitary moment, owing nothing to no one and everything to nature.

Once home there’s a coffee in the garden and then shower before starting the day - this shower gel and skin relief body lotion are a must for post-swim thirsty skin and they don’t break the bank either. Before I set about whatever the day holds, out on the washing line goes the washed swimwear and beach bag paraphernalia to dry in the sun - usually interrupted by our resident blackbird family on the look out for their morning blueberry quota. Often at this point, I find myself engulfed in a sense of quiet contentment and appreciation for being able to begin the day this way and already looking forward to the anticipation of beginning the ritual all over again tomorrow.