I haven’t checked the tides today, I’m pleading in my head for it to be a high. I open my car door expecting the same chill of when I had closed it at the top of the mountain but it’s 10 degrees warmer at sea level and I breathe in the salty air. It is a high tide, the river is deep and blue, in the places where we’ve walked along in knee deep water, today our toes can’t touch the bottom.
We’re quickly swept towards the bridge and allow the water to do all of the work. I watch the trees go past while I just float along enjoying the company and the scenery. Someone suggests that we should start swimming, my face does not acclimatise easily to the water temperature, but I swim anyway, trying to ignore the sting across my nose and cheeks. On the beach I’m warmed by the sun and sand. The four of our tribe come across four oystercatcher birds with their long orange skinny beaks. They squawk at us invading their space. Neither group outnumbers the other and we respectfully leave each other be, equally enjoying the morning. I drive away, eyebrows encrusted with dry salt, ears with remnants of blue tac that I’ve used to keep out the cold and head to the pool for some solid kilometres because there’s no rules about how many times you should swim in one day or in which kind of water.
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AuthorKirrilee Archives
September 2018
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