Into The Blue

THE SULTRY, LANGUID DAYS THAT CLUSTER AROUND CHRISTMAS MEAN WATER FLOWS THROUGH OUR MOST CHERISHED VISIONS OF SUMMER. HERE, THREE WRITERS SHARE THEIR FAVOURITE OCEAN MEMORIES

STORY #01

SEA SYMPHONY

A HOLIDAY TO A CAMPGROUND BY THE SEA BRINGS JEREMY CHAMBERS A SWEET, HEATED LOVE

I remember Cynthia and I being at our happiest during the summer we went camping on the coast. It was a very hot summer. The city, when we left it, was sweltering under a two-week heatwave, streets deserted and blinds drawn in the houses, people emerging only in the sepia of the still-hot dusk to water their gardens among the mosquitos and the relentless scream of cicadas. By the ocean, it was cooler. In the evenings, it grew almost cold.

The campground lay alongside an estuary where perch and bream rippled the water like occasional raindrops falling from the endlessly blue sky. The banks were crowded with the vehicles of recreational fishermen and their families, caravans with awning tents attached, thongs and kids’ bikes scattered outside the entrances. Televisions and fridges ran off generators that growled around us all day and night. The men went out early with their rods and nets and bait buckets, while the women spent the day on deckchairs, preparing meals at card tables as they chatted and drank tea. Later, when their husbands returned and sat cradling beer cans against their bare legs, they switched to spirits and mixers. At night, music boomed out of portable stereos, the ice light of the bug zappers hung on the tent poles giving the campground a festive appearance, like an amusement park or a country show.