Australia’s East Coast is punctuated by ocean pools, some are man-made, and some are natural hollows carved in the rock platforms creating tidal pools. I’m not religious, but there is something spiritual about these pools where people gather to bathe and swim, to be born again, in these great ocean cathedrals. For islander dwellers and coastal folk, the sea has an almost magnetic pull. We commune on beaches, on boards, in boats, toes soaked, prune-skinned. We are saltwater disciples.
I use the words ocean and sea interchangeably because the Irish Sea and Atlantic were where I swam before arriving at the shores of the South Pacific, where I am now. There are almost ten ocean ‘rockpools’ as they’re known here, along my local stretch. I’m spoilt for choice, and I’m very aware of how lucky I (as a pseudo-sea-swimmer) am to have these gorgeous pools for what I like to call “swim-dip”. No formal lap swimming is involved, though full-headed immersion is recommended, floating, frolicking and lolling are encouraged. A “swim-dipper” asserts a calm intent and maintains a purposeful but unpredictable flow, a lap one minute, a float the next.
There is a dance you see, that people do beside the sea, a sequence. There is the pre-swim routine, the costumes, the entry, the swim itself, and the emergence. There are serious swimmers who waste no time diving into the pool, goggled, wetsuited, hats and all. They are lappers who will not make way for idling dawdlers. The dawdlers may have decades of dips under their cossies but their cautious dawdling remains unchanged. They approach the pool with suspicion, no matter the season. Gingerly, they dip a toe in, retracting it instantly, as if burned by molten lava. Heavy breathing ensues in preparation for further, slow, and tortuous immersion. Gripping the handrail, they practice the in-out, technique, like a well-dunked teabag. Some will attempt a sort of acclimation by splashing the water on the limbs and face before full immersion, prolonging the inevitable. Dawdlers tend to favour breaststroke and rarely put their heads underwater. They do painfully slow laps and enrage the 'serious' swimmers.
There are many swim-types beyond these opposites of course, including the swim-dippers like myself. Ocean pools make for some of the best people-watching, especially on hot Summer days when people flee the suburbs and head for the coast to cool down. Families flock to the sea, play at the shore, arrange towels, assemble sun umbrellas and build sandcastles. Babies shriek with delight, toes dipped in the shallows, buckets and spades, snacks and suncream, sunburn and sand, everywhere. Teenagers prance, preen and parade. Surfers earn their bragging rights. Below, the octopus lurks in the cracks between rocks, stalking crabs while stingrays conceal themselves in the sand as swimmers crash and splash above
It's just a few weeks into Spring and the mercury has already soared above 30 degrees. The pool beckoned yesterday. Our pool of choice was busier than we'd ever seen it. Mercifully, we found a rock to perch on away from the masses. I readjusted my togs under the shade of the cliff I observed the pool from a distance, deciding on the point of entry. The steps, furthest away provided easy access, but was surrounded by a gaggle of swimmers, both inside and out. On the far side, a ramp with a handrail was free from human interference but carried greater risks. Slippery rocks to navigate, a seaweed-strewn ramp and the potential to squish sea slugs feeding on the said seaweed. I chose the ramp. I carefully traversed the rocks and down the ramp without incident, and plunged headlong into the brine.
I noticed the slight disorientation of resurfacing from the underwater dip. It is as if for a moment the absence of sound creates a void from which you may not return. A watery cocoon. I drew a breath, hair heavy with water, the wind hit my skin, whipping ocean spray across my face from the waves that crashed against the rocks surrounding the pool, and a small tidal surge poured into the concrete pool. Simple saltwater fun. After a while, I made my back to the slippery ramp to exit, passing a woman who was floating on her back, she looked blissful. We exchanged a smile of mutual contentment. The water set the world to rights, if only for a brief moment.
The sense of restoration and sensory enlivenment that being in the cold ocean water brings is intuitive, we know it makes us feel good. There is now a huge amount of science to support this knowledge. The work of marine biologist Wallace J Nichols and the Blue Mind theory. His work explores the neuroscience and physiology of why and how being in or near the ocean makes us feel good.
Sea-swimming and ocean pool dips (and surfing) are a kind of devotional practice. We go, not simply for exercise, and while science has pinpointed lots of benefits we can't measured or put into words. We go to the water to be together, to exchange the silent acknowledgement of something greater, uncertain, unknown but something good, replenishing. Scientifically, we know less about our oceans than the surface of Mars, we've mapped more of the stars than the depths of the seas. We feel a profound connection to saltwater, it holds a vital force.
We go to the pools, baths and beaches to wash away our worries, to connect, to be restored. Saltwater salvation.
Natures notes is proudly written on and inspired by Dharawal Country. I recognise the Dharawal & Wodi Wodi custodians and ancestors who have an enduring connection to land, water and skies.
Always Was and Always Will be Aboriginal Land.
Memories of the enjoyment of a rainy day, sitting in the waters of the Coral Beach in Connemara!!
This!
"The water set the world to rights, if only for a brief moment." Saltwater salvation is needed more than ever in this burning world. As a fellow sea swim dipper (mostly in beautiful Greystones 😉), I resonate with everything in this post. Thank you