I haven’t been swimming that much in recent years but the other day it was so beautiful, I took my swimming gear on my run and headed for Garrarus. One of my neighbours was coming off the beach after her daily swim..
“It’s gorgeous!” she said
…but other than that I had the beach to myself. Almost. A buzzard hung nearly motionless over the yellow cliff until the local ravens chased it off. A gang of choughs patrolled the eastern cliff, beaks and red shoes shining, feathers immaculate. A curlew..or was it a whimbrel?…glided in to land on the nearby by rocks. The water, if not quite ‘like soup’, as the local swimmers say, was as warm as I’ve known it this summer. The tide was out and the sea was clear, clumps of kelp waving gently here and there. The sea felt more buoyant than usual, as it sometimes does, and the energy of the turning tide carried me gently up and down. Over head the sky was that warm September blue, an intensity and depth that hinted at the coming winter…
I got out and dried off. As I left another regular arrived.
“It’s like soup..” I said to him.
I ran back up the road, rolled towel bouncing in the bag on my back. Behind me, puffy cloud towers, scalloped and dazzling, were rising silently over the mountains in the west. The twisted hawthorn tree half way up the steep hill above me scratched the cobalt sky, drawing bright beads of blood. A late swallow zoomed by…(don’t get left behind!)…and a spotted butterfly spiralled by on the wind over the tangled, yellowing ditches like a fragment from a fire. Sometimes, these times, I feel rich beyond my wildest dreams…
I didn’t have my camera with me so here are some photos I have taken at Garrarus over the years. The buzzard is a composite of two photos of mine.