Words by Maureen McCoy
Picture by Paul McCambridge
Walking down from the car park and over the rocks towards the shore the sky began to take on an eerie deep grey.
Imagination or anticipation? Was the Solar and Lunar pull on the earth also pulling me? Not sure quite what to expect, how dark would it be? Would I see anything much at all? Would this be like a night swim? No, but it had its own special quality.
Picture by Maureen McCoy
The sun gleamed on the water and chinks of blue sky could be seen through the darkening clouds. Here was quiet, just the surge of the water as the tide rose, spilling over the rocks, oily and heavy. Millions of tonnes of water drawing in and out. Eddies curled around the rocks creating whirlpools as the sea breathed softly. Glancing up at the cloud covered sun I got a peek at the bright disc, a little bite out of its side, then the clouds once more hid it from view. As the sky grew darker; it felt like twilight, at 9.30 in the morning, the air cooled and an involuntary shiver ran through my body.
Gingerly stepping over the rocks I made my way to the water’s edge, the scene monochrome; dark sea, black rocks and grey skies above, the horizon a dark line with that shrinking silver gleam on the water’s surface. I slid in, slowly, quietly, breathing in and out with the cold strong tide as the sea wrapped around me. Above I could glimpse the crescent sun through a light film of cloud, strange to see that shape I know so well in the moon now mimicked by the sun. As the shadow slowly moved along and the warmth and light returned, I felt connected. There I was, floating in the water just for the sake of it, no reason other than it felt good. I had immersed myself completely, my first solar eclipse, spring equinox swim.
Wrapped in my towel and sitting on the warming rocks I watched the sea lift from dark grey to light and the shimmer of silver extended again beneath the horizon.
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