Opinion: An appreciation of our amazing shores this World Ocean Day

With the poor dog not being able to get out for a walk during the day because of the heat, I’ve been taking her to the beach most evenings.

She absolutely loves it. As soon as I turn off the main road, be it towards Rossnowlagh, Murvagh, Mountcharles or St John’s Point, she starts making that funny noise that makes happy dogs sound as if they are chatting. She sits up perfectly straight, nose slightly in the air, looking out the back window

Once we arrive, she stands waiting for me to open the boot so she can get out. 

When her feet hit the cool evening sand she spends a few moments walking in circles, feeling it under her paws. She turns her face to the wind and sniffs the air before taking a look around to check out her fellow doggy and human beach walkers. 

Her wagging tail is a good indicator of how, despite beach walks being a regular occurrence, they never fail to make her deliriously happy.

At this time of year, I usually leave my own shoes in the car. And while walking across the sand towards the water, enjoying the anticipation of knowing that the waves would soon be lapping over my feet, I feel deliriously happy too.
One of the really lovely things about late beach walks is the people you meet and the conversations you sometimes have with complete strangers. 

During warm spells like that which we are experiencing at present, the evening air is a little bit cooler than during the day, but still pleasantly warm. There is something really magical about it. 

I love when I arrive at the beach and see people sitting around a fire -  visitors, usually. Or sitting in deckchairs outside camper vans, or pitching tents. 

For a fleeting moment I see our lovely coast through their eyes. I know that I am blessed to see it every day, all year round, in all its moods. But I still feel a little surge of awe when I think of sitting around a fire, or in front of a tent, trying to take it all in on a passing visit. 

I arrived at Rossnowlagh on Tuesday evening just in time for a stunning sunset. 

A sunset anywhere is of course beautiful. But if you’ve never watched the sun set at Rossnowlagh, I would highly recommend it as one of the most spectacular natural sights you can behold.

The low orange orb of the sun just above the silhouetted landscape sent a long trail across the water, ending at the sand. I’ve been lucky enough to witness this many times, and the feeling never diminishes. 

I was far from alone in being stopped in my tracks. Despite there being at least a dozen people near me, and more clusters of people further along in both directions, the only sounds were the waves gently breaking and the occasional cry of a gull or curlew.

It was a comfortable, shared silence, one that we held even after the sun had dipped behind the mountains, leaving an afterglow that was mirrored on the faces of those present. 

Shared smiles were enough, and then we slowly found our voices. 

Beautiful, stunning, amazing - those were the words muttered and shared as we each went our separate ways. 

I continued my walk with my feet in the water, the dog on the lead beside me, dipping in and out but preferring not to get too wet. 

There were a few jellyfish washed up on the shore. Up until a few years ago this would have been enough for me to withdraw from the sea, even though I was only in a few inches of water. 

I have had a lifelong fear of jellyfish, having become trapped by a channel that was absolutely teeming with them when I was a child.

It was only during covid when a number of my paddle sports friends took up sea swimming that I refound the joy of a dip in the ocean, the childlike pleasure of squealing and laughing as the big waves in Rossnowlagh lifted me off my feet, or the profound peace and of floating or bobbing in the calm water at the ‘wee pier’ in Mountcharles.

It is difficult to put into words the immense therapeutic value of these experiences. And so I decided I wasn’t going to let a fear that I should have let go of long ago deprive me of such wonderful healing for body, mind and soul.

Once the decision was made, the fear immediately diminished. And while I can still be a little jumpy if I feel something brush off me in the water, I no longer get a sense of panic, or even a desire to leave the water. I simply take a look, and if there is a jellyfish I move away from it. 

I’ve written before about the shared appreciation of the ocean and its power during all seasons - about people travelling to Rossnowlagh and other locations to (safely) watch and hear the crashing waves in the middle of winter.

I’ve enjoyed the sea in a range of boats, as a swimmer or dipper, a walker or sometimes just from sitting in the car by the shore for as long as it takes to feel my inner equilibrium restored.

I have known the joy of watching dolphins and seals in the water, of seeing up close the many birds and other creatures that inhabit our shores. 

Here in Donegal the ocean is a huge part of our lives. It has shaped our land and our way of life, our economy and our recreation.

Today is World Ocean Day, and while we all know the threats to marine life - and to all of us - from climate change, any desire to protect can only start with learning to appreciate. 

So if you are near the sea, it is the perfect time to take a few moments out of your day to lose yourself in its magic and to return to your daily life restored and balanced. 

As I sat in my car with the window open on Tuesday evening after enjoying my lovely walk, a gentleman leaving the beach nodded a greeting and said ‘wasn’t it just so lovely down there this evening.’

I agreed.

As I drove off, I could see the dog’s happy head and the last glow of orange in my rear view mirror.