The small pleasures of a daily dip in the big ocean

Sunday, 21 June 2026

On a recent cold morning bathing in an even colder sea I watched as a seagull flew so low I could make out the downy feathers under its beak. It turned its head to one side to get a better look at the human in the waves. For some reason, I got a kick out of that.

My sister, Kate, and I get a kick out of a lot of things the average person might see as the minutiae of life. We have become noticers.

Our cold water swims - more dips than overarm dashes across the bay - have attuned us to the small and miraculous offerings of Mother Nature, beginning with the short walk to the water’s edge and swift stride into the sea in Oruamatoro/Days Bay in Eastbourne.

A few months ago we saw a kāruhiruhi (pied shag) pop up from the depths with a huge flounder in its beak. We watched it try and eat the slippery little fella till the bird paddled off, probably out of performance anxiety. Those birds are an interesting bunch. I’ve counted how long they go underwater for and have got up to 20 seconds before they come up for air - once almost under our chins - though I believe they can be minutes without a breath.

Last year a dolphin and her calf were resident in the bay for a month. We got as close as we could without bothering them. No one knows why they came to the bay and stayed for so long. They left the day a dear neighbour was laid to rest.

We have watched leaping fish and crawling starfish. We’ve been bitten by crabs and pummelled by waves. At the Saturday group swims we dip in the dark and watch the sun rise in a pink sky.

I have been stung by a giant pink jellyfish, though (Pollyanna alert) the sting was more an interesting sensation than a pain. It was a good dinnertime story.

I got semi-hypothemic once in the early days and learned the hard way that a thought out warm up is essential.

But most of all, the daily dips are a sacrosanct time for my sister and me.

We meet on Tūi Road under a karaka tree half way between her house and mine. Sometimes there is a pair of kererū blundering around in the kōwhai or perched clumsily on the telegraph wires. We see the wisteria at our friend Jane’s place go through its seasonal motions - from old lady mauve to lush green to an autumnal yellow/orange/brown to the stark twig of winter.

During the colder months we have succumbed to daggy ponchos and woolly socks and sandals as over-tog-wear. We think about Margaret, a regular neighbourhood dipper in her time who wandered down to the beach in her dressing gown and bathers bonnet. That’ll be us eventually.

At the beach we sit on a seat dedicated to a child we didn’t know but often think about. In the water we sometimes remember people we have lost: Graham, a swimmer himself who quietly competed with our mother and another neighbour to be first in the water each summer. It was always Richard from further down Moana Rd; When the sun is shining a spotlight on Mākaro/Ward Island I think of Sheryl and the perfect day we spent on its crescent beach.

On that seat opposite O’Malley’s, our new neighbourhood watering hole, we always sit and talk before our swim - there’s an element of procrastination but we do like to gas.

People stop to chat. We never tire of the occasional congratulatory comment about our dips on the colder days. We live for them.

When we finally get in the drink it is with much whooping and roaring. The lungs are going for it. It’s all part of dealing with the inevitable but sensational prickling chill of the water.

There’s more talking in the depths. More observing; raindrops on water, diving gulls, the wake of the commuter ferry. No swim is the same but all are excellent.

If there’s swell we bodysurf on the waves. We always leap about and do a few whale dives. If anyone is looking we don’t mind any comparison to childsplay.

Summer is easy, but we get the most out of this ritual in the cold months.

People talk about cold water swimming being so good for you, mentally and physically (there are a zillion studies that say so). They say it makes you feel present, that the shock of the cold does good things for cell regeneration, for good cardiovascular health, et al.

We have been year-round dippers for four years now. We tried to convince our brother, William, to join us but he’s a surfer; the waves are his church.

If I sound evangelical it’s because it really is a wonderful thing to do.

We have never had a swim we’ve regretted, it always makes us feel good and it’s opened the door to so many small pleasures.

And of all the small pleasures that cold water sea swimming brings, the biggest is being with my sister - talking, whooping, and watching the circling gulls watching us.

Disclaimer: There are risks to cold water dipping. Swimmers should do their own research to see if it’s right for them.