Storm Amy had barely moved on when I felt the pull. That unmistakable tug from the sea that starts somewhere deep inside and refuses to let go. The weather had been wild and unpredictable for days - wind howling through the dunes, drizzle turning to mist, and tides surging with the approaching full moon. By Saturday evening, the sensible part of me was saying ‘maybe not’, but the rest of me - the Waves & Wild Water part - was already halfway to the beach!
We went down to our usual Burry Port spot on the lighthouse side. The sky was grey, the air sharp with salt, and the wind was wild enough to whip the words out of your mouth. Only two of us were brave (or foolish) enough to get in that evening. The sea was a living thing - huge, chaotic, and completely irresistible…
As soon as my feet hit the water, that familiar jolt of life shot through me. Cold, wild, awakening. The waves came from all directions, colliding and curling, each one daring me to come a little further. Although not quite full yet, I could already feel the moon’s energy in the pull of the tide. The sea was in charge - playful one moment, punishing the next - and I was more than happy to surrender to it.
When we finally climbed out, the wind hit us like a wall. The dry sand was blowing so fiercely that it stung our skin. Every step up the beach was a battle - dizzy, disoriented, half-laughing, half-cursing the wind. I tried to warm up with a flask of hot chocolate, but every time I opened it, sand flew straight in! We couldn’t even hear each other over the roar of the sea. It was chaos, but the kind that makes you feel gloriously, vibrantly alive.
Sunday was a different story. The sky was clear, the sun stretched across the bay, and the beach had that calm-after-the-storm glow. My friend is dipping every day in October for Surfers Against Sewage - I didn't have such a good reason to join her except that I just couldn’t resist another swim! The waves were even bigger than the day before, towering and fierce, but the wind had dropped, and the air felt gentler. We stayed in just long enough to feel the heartbeat of the sea before getting out ahead of high tide. Sitting on the sand with a warm drink in-hand, we watched the sea change. Within minutes, the colour shifted from bright turquoise to steel grey, and the sound deepened from joyful to something more primal and commanding. It was a reminder of just how quickly the sea can turn - from friend to force - and why it will always demand our respect.
For me, that’s what Waves & Wild Water is really about. It’s not just about pretty sunsets and perfect dips. It’s about showing up - even when the wind howls and the waves knock you off your feet. It’s about surrendering to something bigger than yourself, trusting the water to hold you even when it feels wild and unpredictable. It’s about that strange clarity that only comes when you’re chest-deep in the cold sea, realising that for those few moments, nothing else matters.
I’ll be honest - I nearly didn’t go. I told myself it was irresponsible after an amber weather warning. I told myself I’d wait for calmer tides. But I also knew that I needed it - that invisible thread that always pulls me back to the water. For my mind, for my body, for the reminder that I’m part of something vast and elemental. I’ve never regretted a swim, but I’ve often regretted not going. And this weekend proved exactly why.
So, if there’s a message in this stormy weekend swim, it’s this: Let go. Live in the moment. Trust the water. Sometimes you just have to roll with the waves (literally and metaphorically!) and let nature remind you who’s really in charge.
Until the next tide... love Claire 💙🌊
Did you brave the wild water after Storm Amy and make the most of the epic waves? Share it with us in the comments - we would love to hear it!
