OMG too much water!
Over the channel to stay with family and friends in Audresselles, seaside village near Boulogne. Beautiful day, can't wait to get in the sea. Much debate with George whether or not a swim here will count as it is not directly between Oxford and Cambridge. Everyone else has been in and out of the sea all afternoon. By the time I arrive they are out and dressed and it's just me that wants to jump in the increasingly wild waves that are being whipped up by a strong wind that has driven most of the people out of the sea and away; there is one group of wet-suited body boarders nearby. Great fun being tumbled up the beach watched by a line of my family on the sea wall. After a while I decide to get out beyond the double layer of crashing breakers to try for a swim in the rollers. Suddenly, surprisingly, I find myself out of my depth (I know this bit of beach well and I'm cautious in the sea, always checking the depth of the water); I'm trying to get back in, and feel that I'm being pulled further out in my attempts. I had been in line with the body boarders and now I'm getting further out, and starting to feel exhausted by the effort.
I'm scared. I try not to panic, needing to use my energies to ride up and over each roller while I assess my situation. I'm not sure if I'm overreacting. Can I swim for shore? If I wave will my family think I'm waving or drowning? Should I shout? What will they think or do? what can they do? Perhaps at some level remembering you should try to swim across the current, not directly against it I turn to face diagonally towards the shore, towards the boarders, and while doggypaddling with one paw, raise my arm to get attention. Can you see me? Can you see I need help? Yes, she does! A girl, a teenager, I don't really think about how old she is, just that she looks very confident in the water, smiles and starts towards me, then suddenly turns away; a surge of fear hits me until I realise she is alerting her friends before turning back to me with strong confident strokes, never taking her eyes off me. Within speaking distance I want to be sure she understands, 'Aidez-moi? Can you help me?' 'Yes' she says, simply, beautifully and smiles encouragingly, 'It's ok. It's ok'. The relief is enormous. I wait for her to tell me what to do; she takes me firmly by the arm and kicks out for shore with me in tow, still able to ride the water with legs and one arm free. Her friends arive (another girl and a guy) with a bodyboard which I grab hold of eagerly. 'Mm, euuh, get up? uhm, get on?' the girl says, any doubt about the meaning of the English words irrelevant as I get a strong shove onto the board from my rear end, As we hit the breakers they try to hold us all steady, but I get caught sideways rolling off, causing anxiety to my rescuers as another breaker is about to crash around us. I just have time to take a breath and point my arms to the beach, happy to be tumbled up it, ungracefully, to the waiting feet (and arms) of George and family, waiting with towels and offers of hot chocolate.
How far have I swum? Feels like miles, but I'm too exhausted and relieved to care.
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