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Painting by Karen Chugg, photos by Lyndal Chambers
By Lyndal Chambers
It’s an ocean place – an inlet place more specifically, where each morning I pedal down, peel off the layers: hat, mittens, shoes, pants, jacket and throw myself into the chilly salty water – forty strokes on one breath, roll over and sixty backstrokes taking me in an arc back to shore.
Fantastic! Run, shaking sparkling droplets in the early morning, back to the towel. Feeling cleansed, awake and energized. On a high!
Our hardy band of fellow swimmers – who share the secrets of the cold water start to the day, jokingly call ourselves the ‘Inverloch Icicles’. Every morning it’s a new vista; sometimes we can see the Foster Hills, sometimes it’s foggy, or sun glinting off the frosty seaweed – after heavy rain we can see the brown fresh water of the Tarwin flowing out to sea and just occasionally ... the water is a perfect reflection of ‘the point’, sand and blue sky.
It’s an ocean place – an inlet place more specifically, where each morning I pedal down, peel off the layers: hat, mittens, shoes, pants, jacket and throw myself into the chilly salty water – forty strokes on one breath, roll over and sixty backstrokes taking me in an arc back to shore.
Fantastic! Run, shaking sparkling droplets in the early morning, back to the towel. Feeling cleansed, awake and energized. On a high!
Our hardy band of fellow swimmers – who share the secrets of the cold water start to the day, jokingly call ourselves the ‘Inverloch Icicles’. Every morning it’s a new vista; sometimes we can see the Foster Hills, sometimes it’s foggy, or sun glinting off the frosty seaweed – after heavy rain we can see the brown fresh water of the Tarwin flowing out to sea and just occasionally ... the water is a perfect reflection of ‘the point’, sand and blue sky.