Author Archives: words and signs

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About words and signs

I am an Artist and Writer, living and working in London. I am grateful for all the things I have been able to do in my life and for what I am doing now. I serve Christ and seek to share Him with others…

Le Kerrouac Plage: Anse du Pouldu: South Brittany

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Weather on the horizon out at sea. Cumulus Mediocrous raining down like curtains on a stage. Breakers still roll ashore but not as powerful as two days ago. They chunter in as a matter of course across beautiful smooth sand- easy to walk on.

The sea is on its way out and retreats slowly, gradually exposing outcrops of rock, on the secluded small beach. Here on my own today and enjoying the solitude, but not for long.

The colours of sea and sky are quite different today. The sea changes from deep ultramarine on the horizon to pale Jade across the sands. The sky billows smoky blue and shades of stormy azure and grey. The sun appears for a short while, but weather doesn’t last very long…

Swimming is between waves, which relentlessly roll, but the water is comfortable and free from most of the weed. Even if I don’t much feel like swimming, it is always refreshing and invigorating and glad I went in. It is never as cold coming out as I think it is going to be.

Porgastel: Le Pouldu: South Brittany

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The beaches are strewn with seaweed, washed in, but refusing to wash out again. This small bay was slightly cleaner, and a short wade through the foliage got me out to clearer water. The day was beautiful and the water as balmy as ever, but it is hard to avoid strands of the seaweed and unknown submerged rocks.

I moved over to the larger cove, as the tide was coming in. Lots of seaweed coming with it and slippery and unpleasant to wade through. The water was full of the sea growth and a creamy scum, which was not good to swim through. Once I got out of it, quite some way from shore, the swimming was relaxing and full of delight. Stayed out there as long as possible, as I didn’t want to brave the seaweed waves churning on the shore, laden with rubbery fronds.

Swimming back was body surfing, as the waves rolled shoreward. Then to hit the seaweed belt, was the downside of the way back. As I showered later, my costume had acted as a sieve and had caught a selection of seaweed types!

It has been hard to avoid the amount of seaweed being thrown onto the coastline, but hope it will eventually wash away, as the Atlantic is just the right temperature for summer swimming, and cool enough to be refreshing. The coastline is also so beautiful, and to be able to swim in the coves and beaches is a great experience.

Cirque de Porsac’h: South Brittany

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The coastline is slathered over with seaweed from the mega storm and refuses to be washed away. The sun is shining, and the sea calmer, but the weed is thick and unpleasant to walk through and I can’t see where it ends and  fresh sea starts.

I climb down into the tiny cove and hover on the edge of the tide- uncertain what to do. It is such a beautiful place , but the stench of the rotting vegetation and the unknown coast layout, results in making the decision to skip the swim. The seaweed is very off-putting, even though the water beyond is jade-green as ever.

A non-swim today as I couldn’t walk through the seaweed…

Anse de Goulet Riec: L’Aven: South Brittany

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A short, short swim. It felt cold, even though it was fine yesterday. The sky was grey with scudding clouds, and the tide low, though coming in slowly up the inlet.

The road down to the small secluded bay, stopped suddenly and a clamber down to barnacle-encrusted rocks which plunged into the green of the sea. I stood for a few minutes wondering whether or not to plunge in. Eventually did so and it was stimulating, but didn’t stay in long, as I was a bit chicken..!

Getting out was painful and got a few marks on hands and knees. Even the limpets had barnacles.

Today Andy and I were married 30 years ago. He watched over me as I swam and was so patient and kind. He is my rock, as he sat on the rocks today and all these years that have gone by…

Rivière de Merrien: South Brittany

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The Estuary is the only place of refuge for the small vessels that harbour here. The dregs of the storm are still being played out at sea, but the water here is Jade green, quite placid, yet the effect of the incoming tide can be felt, as I swim across the 200 metre gap.

I cross four times, each time climbing out on the concrete steps, for a couple of minutes rest.

The first time was worrying, as the boats were so close, and I could feel the drag of the current taking me off target for the far side. Swimming in a harbour has not been tried out by me before, but the water was clean, and free of smell or waste, and the boats closely tied to the bouys.

I made it across the first time safely. Subsequent trips were relaxing as the swim was enjoyable and free from huge waves, and large clumps of weed, and bathed in the late afternoon sun. It was made easier be a local family, swimming across the estuary as their Sunday afternoon outing, and watching them, gave me more courage. The water is so clean here, and people keep it that way, for boats and swimming. Maybe also the Atlantic weather keeps the waterways fresh and renewed after the storms.

“Who shut up the sea behind doors
when it burst forth from the womb,
when I made the clouds its garment
and wrapped it in thick darkness,
when I fixed limits for it
and set its doors and bars in place,
when I said, ‘This far you may come and no farther;
here is where your proud waves halt’? Job 38

Plage des Bellangemet: Anse du Pouldu: South Brittany

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A turbulent  sea after the storm in the night, the tail end of the rage that crashes wild, white horses into the strand. The power is mesmerising as they break over the head and drive the body into the sand below.

Actual swimming is limited, as the hooves and manes incessant plunder of the space, captures the focus, so that I am not dragged under or pulled back with the undertow.

This is invigoration at its highest point. Go with the flow, as I cannot stand against it, even in the shallows.
“Deep calls to deep at the roar of your waterfalls; all your breakers and your waves have gone over me.
By day the LORD commands his steadfast love, and at night his song is with me, a prayer to the God of my life.” Psalm 42

The human body is so weak, as we see ourselves in the great creation, and we realise we are at the mercy of forces greater than ourselves.

The ocean is one of those powerhouses that are unstoppable.

Grand Sables: Le Pouldu: South Brittany

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A walk to the beach makes the water look even more inviting. A calm, warm morning, with glassy liquid washing around the scattered rocky outposts along this coastline.

The Atlantic never tasted so good. A mouthful contained my years supply of salt… The water was so refreshing and the enjoyment of freedom from restrictions was liberating. 360 roll- so easy and cutting through the water felt frictionless and effortless.

Swam well out, passing over the dark shapes of the rocks below, and the light golden sandy banks-out into the small bay that washes against the coral and shell encrusted beaches.

At the farthest rock stood three cormorants waiting and watching in their own time. A lonesome Kittiwake bobbed for a short while and then off, no other Gulls in sight.

Beautiful refreshment and reprieve from heat and dust, that leaves the person feeling refreshed until the afternoon…

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Le Fort Bloque: South Brittany

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The sky was overcast and so the surroundings stayed grey with rain on the horizon. A steely, restless sea did not attract many swimmers- perfect for a lonesome dip.

The water was welcoming, fresh and clear, but the liveliness of the waves churned up seaweed from beds rooted in the surrounding rocks. As I swam, long bootlaces, twinned themselves around my limbs. This is not my favourite sensation – I see a long thin sea monster winding its tentacles around me and dragging me to the bottom…

This didn’t happen and I reminded myself of the seaweed garden below.
I grabbed a clump and dragged it out with me… I’m not afraid if it on land…

It is somehow elemental to swim in the ocean, where so much life is generated, and where death lurks.
Take nothing for granted.

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The Viking trail: Kent coast

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We went on a cycling and swimming trek to the coast. Taking the train from Denmark Hill, we took our bikes on board and travelled to Birchington-on-sea, where we joined the Viking Trail along the coastal path, at Minnis bay.

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We set out towards the two Reculver towers, and stopped off along the way for a pack lunch and our first swim, at Minnis beach.

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There was quite a lot of Wreck strewn on the beaches and the coastal path, infiltrating the sea air with the familiar dried-out seaweed smell. There was a certain amount in the water and the sea was brown with sand particles. The overwhelming heat overcame any reservations about aesthetic considerations.

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Swimming was deliciously cool after the cycling in the beaming sun, and it was such a relief to enjoy the gentle waves and the salty taste of the water.

Again we set out along the coast, with blue sea and blue sky, and idyllic Kent countryside all along the way. The pathway was perfect for cycling and as we sailed through the hot, still air, everything seemed to be right with the world, and glory surrounded us. The time passed quickly and the distances were covered with ease.

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I had a tumble on the bike- took my eyes of the road and ended up flying over the edge of the road. Fortunately there was a soft, lush bank of grass to land on, and the bike didn’t land on top of me…

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We made it to the Reculver towers, examined the area, and set back along the coast.

Stopping at Birchington and other point along the pathway, to have a dip in the sea and a swim along a part of the coast. It is a truly invigorating outing, and the beautiful atmosphere helps the body to do more than it thinks it can.

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The roadway wound on toward Margate and yet another unique and imaginative coastal view, reminiscent of the, scene in the “Lord of the Rings” where dead people lurked just below the water surface… the white chalky rocks skirting around dark mounds of seaweed, sat still and silent as the sea water basked in these coastal waters, and the glassy, smooth sky reflected the underworld…

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Brixton Beach Herne Hill London

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The tactile experience of the cool water skimming over the skin of the skin, is not to be over-rated. It starts like ice, and quickly melts into liquid heaven, that never becomes too clammy or too near blood-temperature. It washes away all ill-will and cools the beating heart to a restful place, where thought is settled and enjoyment heart-felt.

Blue rivers run up and down, following the swimmer like a tail on a kite, and elevating the mood; bearing up spirit like a tail-feather on a small bird. It never is still, always fidgeting as a child in church, unable to take in the full meaning of what is happening.

It is almost free, but not quite. Other swimmers move along and I cannot forget them and be unthinking or unaware.

The cold water is the reason why we come here- to be soaked in the mystical depths and feel the unflinching effect of the shifting blue, that time cannot change and weariness overcome.