Decided, a la Lanyon, with his immersion into Cornish landscape via gliding, that the only way to get a real "elemental" feeling of setting would be to swim in the sea. This was despite it being stormy and windy on Monday morning! Usually I avoid the freezing temperatures of the Irish sea but today I was going to don my wet-suit, leave dogs in caravan and get on in there!
So, at around 10 am, I parked at the church and walked through the woods to the beach, ruck-sack on back, sketchbook in hand, determined. I ignored the threatening rain and stormy skies.
Once at the beach I nodded to a couple of lone surfers getting kitted up near their van. Ha, I thought to myself, you're not the only ones to use these waters. I too can brave these seas. As I had no swimming costume but only my wetsuit, I strode right down to the far end of the beach, the lonely end where there are a few former smugglers' caves. Inside one, to the sound of its trickling waters, I changed hastily, heart drumming. Soon I would thrust myself into those 12 foot waves for the sake of my art. The surfers at the other side of the beach, tiny specks in the water, seemed to be having a fine old time.
I zipped myself into the rarely used suit and made my way towards the ocean. I barely had time to notice its icy temperature before the breakers crashed me onto the pebbles. Ouch! Unperturbed, I picked myself up and spent an exhausting few minutes being dashed to the ground by the waves. Ha! This was living! I thought breathlessly. I too can live life to the max.
Glancing at the distant surfers I noticed that they seemed to be a lot further out than me. That must be so they don't get hit by the breakers, I thought wisely. I plunged out towards the horizon.
Once bobbing like a cork on the top of those immense swollen waves, I had a sense of sudden peace.Why, this was easy! Instead of being at the mercy of the tide, I was now being gently swept along by it. The bay looked beautiful. The sun shone. I decided to get back.
That was when I felt the first little tug of uncertainty. Where was my cave? Was it really right over there? No matter, I thought calmly, I would simply swim back. I swam some nice strong strokes of breast-stroke. And got nowhere.
With a sickening lurch I realised that the tide must be going out. That I was stuck in the middle of the ocean in stormy weather and nobody knew I was there. Not even the surfers, who seeing me with my sketchbook had no idea I would plunge madly into the sea. Panic swept over me. Could I forget about swimming to shore and try to swim, instead, along the coast to the surfers? No chance. My puny little efforts at swimming got me nowhere, and they were miles away, oblivious to my little problem.
I looked across the bay, with all its beauty, and thought, what a stupid way to die. I thought of all those sea rescue SOS programmes on telly. I thought how much I didn't want to drown and how quickly I would get exhausted, flailing in that huge, monstrous, overwhelmingly powerful sea.
I went icy calm. I let the huge swell of the next wave carry me forward whilst I rested, then, as it started to drag back relentlessly back into its embrace, I swam for my life, focusing on the nearest point on shore.
I have never swam so hard and with such will. It was as if something put unnatural strength into my arms and legs. I let the tide carry me again. Then the battle to resist being dragged back. Then again. And again.
And slowly, ever so slightly, it seemed as if the shore was beginning to creep in, to inch its way closer. And at last, when I tentatively put my feet down, the relief at feeling sharp stones and pebbles! The joy at being dashed down to shore!
I staggered back to my little cave, which had moved miles up the beach, and fell down on its wet cold sand. I looked up at the rock ceiling, and never have I been so thankful to be in a particular place. It was like coming home.
I couldn't bear to draw the sea after that experience, so I drew the roof of the cave instead. Here it is:
I looked across to the sea, and there I saw my little foot-prints scuttling into the ocean, and there again, much further down the beach, emerging and tracking back to the cave. I wish I'd thought to photograph them .
But I had other things on my mind. And I don't think I could have held the camera still.
PS Have googled it since, and think I must have been caught by a rip current! Not good.
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