Underwater world.

April 22nd 2021, Polkerris, Cornwall.

The cold trickles into my suit at the neck. The shock of Spring water. No-hood swimming with ears just submerged and dry hair on top. The current pulls around the rocky outcrops, weed fronds move with each gentle surge in a continuous frilly wave back and forth. I float, let my body move only with the flow, hiding from the fish amongst stirred up particles and untethered bits of seaweed. A small shoal of Rass dart past in unison, striped and fast and gone. A less hurried, brown speckled fish casually reminds me to brush up on my underwater knowledge. Thousands of tiny mussels encrust the rock, themselves bejewelled in tinier bubbles. Slighly open, blue black with white pearlescent insides. A lowering early evening sun illuminates all the weeds. Gut weed fluorescent greenest of greens. Glossy browns, frilly reds. Now swimming across the kelp, huge fans rise up high on sturdy stalks, deep russet, waving and shuddering in the tide, revealing and concealing. There are big spider crabs amongst the weed, long legs making a slow clamber. Spiked shells are orange against the brown, muddied slightly by the fine weed which clings to them. Now I drift across a shallow sandy bed, pocked with pebbles and rocks, foamy from the breakers. A snorkelled voice is exultant and looking into the sun I see the silhouette of hunter-gatherer, a wide legged stance with arm raised and many long legs atop. I come to join him on the outcrop and the shock of cold water flushes its way from neck to ankle. But returning to the water feels warmer now and we swim one handed with our precious spiny cargo held aloft.