Car sick as per usual, we reached our destination. A white and misty wall greeted us as we parked in the bay. Beyond the wall, I could see... absolutely nothing. I think the idea was that the glorious sea would make itself known to us. But I’m unsure the elements got the memo, so instead we got the meddling mist. What is it that they say again? You can’t win them all, or something like that? In this case, I hadn’t won anything. Is it too late to ask for a refund?

Reluctantly leaving the car, the cold rushed to welcome us at about ninety miles per hour. There is nothing better than an enthusiastic greeting from Mother Nature, after all. Alongside the coldness, we made our way down the sandy, slippy steps with some warning or other about falling off a cliff, which I didn’t think to read properly. At the bottom of the steps, I could just about make out the sea: a blurry, glassy and grey sheet rolling out in a rather vicious manner. I felt somewhat taken aback by its unwavering rigour. However, being unable to communicate in the same language, I regret to say that I was unable to ask the sea to kindly relax for a moment or two whilst I took a dip.

Anyway, I stared in horror at the spectre which I was expected to enter. I can’t say I was that tempted, to be honest. This was not, and is not, my idea of merriment. Unimpressed (or on my part at least), we made our way to the menacing water. En route, I tried to think of an excuse so as not to enter. A broken leg? A sudden searing headache? A fainting episode? I was unsure these would do the trick. As ever, my brain was failing me, there’s nothing like consistency! Fortunately, however, the gods were on my side. A friendly man approached me, asking if I knew about the seals in the water?

Feigning a fascination, I remarked that no, no I didn’t know actually. Would he be so kind as to enlighten me? Unsurprisingly, he was more than happy to, this being his purpose in striking up the conversation in the first place. It turns out that a few minutes prior, a group of seals had been spotted sauntering along in the water. That is why no one is swimming in the sea, the man said. Ah, I responded. I had foolishly presumed that no one was in the sea because it was freezing, whilst its waves were lashing out looking for victims at about 100 mph. I had presumed wrong.

After standing in a rather hesitating manner at the shore for as many minutes as I possibly could, feeling very sorry for myself, I found I was unable to prolong fate for any longer. I was being beckoned out into the deepest, darkest distance. Gulping, I waded out. I thought a wave would engulf me before I got there, as they had adopted quite an energetic and playful temperament. They didn’t, though. Thus, I was left to battle with the glacial temperatures of the hyperborean sea.  What’s more, as the sea did not have a thermostat, I was unable to alter the temperature. Naturally, I spent a good minute or two complaining about this technical failing. Miraculously, I warmed up in this time. 

After immersing myself in the swollen sea, I was more than ready to make my way out. Remarkably, no one else was. So I gritted my teeth, and like a true stoic, remained without so much as a grumble. It wasn’t that bad, actually. Bar the stinging salt, gargantuan waves, and dull grey sky, I may as well have been in California! We probably spent an eternity or two in there which I spent admiring the misty white wall of a view and wondering when I could leave.

Safe to say, I will not be flocking to the shores again for some time. Until the sea spares a thought for my body temperature, or my body temperature spares a thought for the sea - I will be on my sabbatical. In the meantime, if the sea could work on trying to control its temper, that would be magnificent.