Human earthlings have taken to northern seas, plunging into freezing waters from freezing beaches in an effort to “boost their mood”. Seriously.
That's what they say they're doing, in aid of connecting with nature and “shifting away” from anxiety about COVID. It would certainly be a distraction. But why not shift away by reading a good book with a cup of tea in a warm room?
It seems they want the social life which COVID distancing and lock-downs have taken away from us -- so they swim in groups. Social life shared with other crazy people? The shock of diving into a northern ocean in the middle of winter sounds a bit like banging your head on a wall because it feels good when you stop.
Here's a suggestion, made from the bench where I sit watching in my winter coat: don't start. Last fall, on a sunny day while beach walking I decided to take my shoes off and wade. Going ankle deep was enough. Toes went numb. Little fish darted around my feet, as if outraged at my clumsy fin-less presence. I fancied they had been sent by their ruler Neptune (Poseidon to the Greeks), who wondered what on earth these earthlings were doing in the kingdom of the sea.
Good question, Neptune. Apparently, frustrated by the monotony of COVID restrictions, the winter ocean swimmers cheer themselves up by taking “just chill” to a whole new level. Or depth.
Above the bench where I sat, crows were looking down from tree tops in puzzlement. (You'd never catch a sensible crow acting like a demented pelagic cormorant.) Out on the horizon, I caught a glimpse of a blurry figure riding the waves on a sea-shell chariot, waving a three-pronged trident. The swimmers, I imagine, were too teeth-chatteringly cold to notice a turbulent ocean-god bearing down on them.
