About a Buoy
It's that time of year again, the one where winter has ebbed slowly away, and the sun has finally decided to get his hat on, which, it turns out, is exactly the sort of hat designed to convince you that there's a veritable heatwave happening, right here, right now. And so when I was asked if I wanted to go sea swimming last Thursday, of course I immediately said yes. But then, I had to say yes because people always say yes when the person who's asking the question is Big Frank.
If you followed that link to the website of Big Frank, a massive black Dutch guy whose strap line is 'When you want to make sure you get your money quickly', then you'll be pleased to know it wasn't (luckily) him asking. Although obviously I would have had to, if he had asked. No, this was my neighbour Big Frank, from down the way. There is another Frank as well, you see, known to all as 'Frank', and Big Frank is, er, bigger than him. Mainly by dint of Frank being only seven and Big Frank being a grown man.
Anyway, we headed down to the Battery Rocks in Penzance, threw on the wetsuits, and dived in. And that's when it hit me. Freezing water hitting my face seemed to freeze my features like I'd had a stroke while at the same time the cold shock on my chest constricted my lungs enough to shut them down, making swimming more than a few strokes at a time almost impossible. That lying sun's hat! The heatwave only applies to air, and I felt fully cheated.
Big Frank, having swum about the Helford the week before, was sensibly sporting a thick wetsuit hood and ploughed smoothly away toward Newlyn, leaving me cursing by the rocks like I'd stepped barefoot on hot coals. Weirdly though, the cursing seemed to ease my lungs, and a man is never happier than when the answer to a problem is simply to curse more. And louder, which helped too.
A hundred metres later I was warmed up. 'Let's head to that orange buoy over there' said Big Frank, pointing vaguely in the direction of the entire ocean. 'OK, great' I replied, sighting only a yellow buoy and making a mental note never to mention Big Frank's colour blindness to Big Frank. On we swam, enjoying the view of passing kelp forests and starfish below, certain that our short swim would be over soon.
On we swam, as beautiful saturated sunset colours spread above the silhouetted outline of Penzance and reflected on the sea surface all around us. I wondered what colours Big Frank was seeing. On we swam, but that buoy seemed to be further away than ever. On we swam until Big Frank stopped and said ' I thought we were swimming to the orange buoy?' 'We are' I said, pointing at the yellow one. 'No,' said Big Frank, 'the orange buoy. Back there'.
Way behind us, and way further out to sea there was indeed an orange buoy. 'Oh', I said, 'I didn't see that one'. 'That's good' said Big Frank, 'I was beginning to think you were colour blind'.
This was all training for this year's mile long Swim for Logan and the Yacht Inn Swim though despite swimming twice as far as we felt capable of, despite my unreliable sense of either colour or direction and despite the cold and encroaching darkness, we eventually made it safely back to shore.
We later went to a barbeque, where Big Frank's South African mate started telling me about how he got arrested as a spy in the Congo.
But that's another story.
If you followed that link to the website of Big Frank, a massive black Dutch guy whose strap line is 'When you want to make sure you get your money quickly', then you'll be pleased to know it wasn't (luckily) him asking. Although obviously I would have had to, if he had asked. No, this was my neighbour Big Frank, from down the way. There is another Frank as well, you see, known to all as 'Frank', and Big Frank is, er, bigger than him. Mainly by dint of Frank being only seven and Big Frank being a grown man.
Anyway, we headed down to the Battery Rocks in Penzance, threw on the wetsuits, and dived in. And that's when it hit me. Freezing water hitting my face seemed to freeze my features like I'd had a stroke while at the same time the cold shock on my chest constricted my lungs enough to shut them down, making swimming more than a few strokes at a time almost impossible. That lying sun's hat! The heatwave only applies to air, and I felt fully cheated.
Big Frank, having swum about the Helford the week before, was sensibly sporting a thick wetsuit hood and ploughed smoothly away toward Newlyn, leaving me cursing by the rocks like I'd stepped barefoot on hot coals. Weirdly though, the cursing seemed to ease my lungs, and a man is never happier than when the answer to a problem is simply to curse more. And louder, which helped too.
A hundred metres later I was warmed up. 'Let's head to that orange buoy over there' said Big Frank, pointing vaguely in the direction of the entire ocean. 'OK, great' I replied, sighting only a yellow buoy and making a mental note never to mention Big Frank's colour blindness to Big Frank. On we swam, enjoying the view of passing kelp forests and starfish below, certain that our short swim would be over soon.
On we swam, as beautiful saturated sunset colours spread above the silhouetted outline of Penzance and reflected on the sea surface all around us. I wondered what colours Big Frank was seeing. On we swam, but that buoy seemed to be further away than ever. On we swam until Big Frank stopped and said ' I thought we were swimming to the orange buoy?' 'We are' I said, pointing at the yellow one. 'No,' said Big Frank, 'the orange buoy. Back there'.
Way behind us, and way further out to sea there was indeed an orange buoy. 'Oh', I said, 'I didn't see that one'. 'That's good' said Big Frank, 'I was beginning to think you were colour blind'.
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This was all training for this year's mile long Swim for Logan and the Yacht Inn Swim though despite swimming twice as far as we felt capable of, despite my unreliable sense of either colour or direction and despite the cold and encroaching darkness, we eventually made it safely back to shore.
We later went to a barbeque, where Big Frank's South African mate started telling me about how he got arrested as a spy in the Congo.
But that's another story.
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