I wake at first light in anticipation of it. The new day all to myself, a coolness that won’t last past sunrise; the rays of which are evident above the jungle peak, fanned out like vapour fingers. The peace of a personal dawn. If everyone knew what they were missing there would be no peace. It’s the only time I leave the sound of the breaking wakes behind, apart from when they break over me and my hearing is nothing but an audio enema. I hear them all day and all night, I'm never further that street market from the sound. Buy my bread and back along the beach to my cliff side dwelling, a carefully projected gooey chocolate milk spit from the sea.
The lake is smooth from a still melting night and a thin layer of mist drifts on the surface, as if put there for effect.
The water is the same temperature as my bed sheet, as the air on the path as my body, there is no shock from the transition. What takes my breath away and gets my adrenalin racing is the unknown. I slip silently into the water; it’s like a jungle trance, a calling. I'm a sacrifice; I immerse myself in the sensation, with a single trace of my footprints in the mud,
I leave the shore into the unknown.
The jungle isn’t welcoming, it’s just there if you dare and I do, I gently breast stroke into it. My tiny bow wave makes lava lamp reflections of the sunrise sky.
The wafts of reflected pink cloud ripple out of reach and then out of view into misty obscurity.
It’s tranquil but it’s not silent; jungle sounds; it’s a sound effect tape; mixed with the mist it’s so realistic. As if I really am swimming in a sweet lake in a moist tropical forest. I can’t even see the porcelain blue swimming pool tiles; the car park is carefully hidden by green rocky cliffs that rise out the water. The beach is the only entrance, no changing room just a mud foot bath as I step into the dark clear wonder. Smooth as melted chocolate my movement makes Mars bar ripples
The sounds of jungle birds around me. Whoop, whooper with cheese, whooper with cheese, and screech standard, standard and whistle, like a boiling kettle.
The only colour is green, banana leaves and palms, ferns and tropical fauna. The water is still and warm, sweet and natural. You can’t get relaxation like this from a chlorine scented fountain, can’t get this exaltation from potted plants.
Viewed from an eye lid above the water level, it’s so real its so nature. It’s all the stimulation I’d ever need, all the entertainment. This isn’t simulation its reality. Nature does it so well; better than a Vegas themed environment, dry ice and projected clouds on blue ceilings. It doesn’t have opening and closing times, I'm here before hours. No rules no regulations no instructions, no warning, no information, what the hell am I swimming in? What am I swimming with? Are they friendly? Are they hungry?
I lay on my back and gently kick my feet, stealth movement as the sky loses its colourless stand-by veil, the sun is turning it blue and an eagle drifts over on the first thermals of the day, let’s not over do it.
it’s time for someone else to play.
It occurs to me this is prime territory for a water snake to glide across the surface and I would have nowhere to go. It freaks me out and with the exhilaration the enjoyment has just gone up a notch. I put down my feet on the muddy bottom where the water is thermally warmer; at nipple depth I can see the bottom and I'm standing on rocks, if I’d bothered to look I would have seen what bit my toe and I wouldn’t have yelled out loud. It made me jump, it didn’t hurt. My senses were already on alert after my water snake thoughts.
I was embarrassed; I broke the calmness with my fear. Thankfully no one came; I hope no one heard, I hope no one saw, what a breathtaking way to start the day. Swimming into the jungle, all by myself. A dawn not to be missed. Do something every day that scares you. It was that or eat the pork. I'm free to spend the rest of the day in the comfort and security of the hammock.
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