Cliche

How can I write about my swim today without using every cliche known to mankind? I probably can’t is the answer.

There are no great revelations about life or moral lessons learnt. It was purely a swim of amazing beauty, peace and appreciation.

At first light the sky was lit as if on fire, the flame of a blow torch burning from the sky above. Out in space a deep blackness illuminated by the sliver of a silver moon and millions of diamond-like stars. Deep blackness smudged its way through blue, lilac and into the burning orange and pink of dawn. Not a breath of wind. Heavy silence. Flat water like glass. The sort of day that you know in your bones is going to be stunning.

Bones are rarely wrong and the day stretched out into clear blue skies and hot sunshine. As Ruthie and I worked in the fields, moving Dina and Titchy, we imagined how good it was going to feel cooling off with a swim at lunchtime.

The three of us headed to Rushy Bay, one of the most idyllic beaches on Bryher. It’s soft white sand gently slopes into the sea, where granite islands lay scattered across the horizon. And here are where the cliches really begin.

Clear water lapped the shore in frothy little waves, delicate like lace. I dived head first into the cool, the sunbeams bouncing off my skin as water flowed around my outstretched arms. A day for play, swimming up onto rocks, big bouldering lumps of granite decorated with barnacles, limpet and topshells. Splashing off into the cool.

Tumbling in an ecstasy of silver bubbles, diving down to run my fingers over the seabed and discover free floating seaweed.

The sun on the water’s surface was almost blindingly bright and the tiny flecks of silver sand were caught in its rays as they washed with the movement of the water.

All of us swam with beaming grins, in utter amazement that this is still January and only last week we were being pounded by storms and lashing rain.

This has to be the best way to spend your lunch break, a blissful swim off Rushy Bay.