I made a promise to myself for August…

For the month of August, I set the intention of going swimming in the sea more, a beautiful gift to myself.  

I stalled in the opening days due to an ear infection from freediving and swimming in the last week of July. But a short course of antibiotics and a renewed habit of AWE (Always Wear Earplugs) and I was back on track. Many of these swims became body surfs, catching waves for the joyous sensation of getting wooshed along in a rush of spilling water. I often ended the ride laughing, unguarded like a child: 

A low tide swim at Caerfai beach in the midday sun. It’s blowy from the north-west with a pulsing south-swell. Glittering lines of waves peak then pour onto the sand. Each is laden with seaweeds, a thick soup of red and brown fragments torn from the rocks around the coast. Stranded by the retreating tide, they form thick lines across the beach. In other places, they are more rug-like, spread deep and woolly over the sand. There’s so much of it that the odour reaches the cliff-top carpark, wafted upwards by the wind. A sharp citrus tang, the smell of the sea.

I pull on my wetsuit, swimming hat and goggles and wade into the soupy shallows. The rich seaweed growth of spring and summer, wrenched from the seabed by the recent swell, is macerated by the waves. Head down, I stroke through it, surprised at how murky the water is. Making for the rocks on the right-hand side of the bay, I aim for the far headland. 

The water clears a little with distance from the beach, and I see a familiar tangle of thong weed and kelp below me. These large brown seaweeds grow as gardens and underwater forests, and are lively in the surging swell. I pause to run my fingers through their slippery fronds and notice that the limpets have lifted their shells and are up and about, grazing on the rocks. Many have streamers of green seaweed trailing from their tops, seasonal growth that must cause extra drag in these boisterous conditions. 

But limpets are made for these dynamic surroundings with a strong, muscular foot to grip tight, and sticky mucus whose molecular properties are altered to provide powerful adhesion when needed. Each limpet also carves a custom-made seat on the rock to slot into. After every feeding jaunt, they return to these home scars, impressions in the rock that fit their shell, like a key sliding into a lock. When you get to know them, it’s hard not to be awed by limpets. 

As I set off to swim on, I startle a blenny that shoots off out of sight and find myself apologising, “Sorry blenny dude!” Raising my gaze above the water line, I pick a point on the headland to aim for as my furthest reach. Quickly settling into a rhythm, I enjoy pulling on water; my arms feel made for this. Honed by many years of training in pools, to compete as a young swimmer, and now for the love of it.  

I arrive and pause to breathe deeply and rest a little. Then turn around and head back the way I came. As I approach the shallows, I’m drawn to the breaking waves and body surf the seaweed soup.  I ride wave after wave, a body pushed along by the ocean’s energy. In between wave sets, I float belly up. Weightless, I’m held by the water. Shutting my eyes, the waves roll under me, and I rise and bob, loose and yielding. I am seaweed. 

Celestial bodies, part of my new collection Môr Noeth, coming soon.

On several occasions, I swam with friends. Some were freedives, equipped with wetsuit, fins, mask, weight belt and camera. Others were much less encumbered when I wore only a pair of goggles. One memorable afternoon, a simmering creative vision was brought to fruition with two cherished and heroic water-women. From this, my new fine art collection, Môr Noeth (Naked Sea), emerged. The full collection will be revealed soon. Keep an eye on my socials for the release date. 

Sticking to my promise led to memories that I’ll replay all winter long. In January, when the sea is dark and uninviting, I’ll be visualising sea sirens rising from the bubbles and riding sparkly waves in the sun.

Setting mindful intentions is a practice I heartily encourage, and plan to continue. 

What promise will you make to yourself this month?