Here we are between the 2 continents. Ellie and I are making a work trip to Morocco so I tried to persuade my wonderful wife Ellie that we could save on the ferry fare by swimming across but somehow she didn’t seem up for it. “Just done my hair darling, seems a shame to spoil it”.
With the wind in my hair and the sharp scent of open sea in my nostrils I felt that this might be as close as I ever get to crossing these seas, the idea of being in the middle of this busy shipping lane with no sight of land for miles and miles literally set me ice cold on the spot. This is a very large body of water, cold and uninviting with an endless parade of vessels ready to chop me up with their brass propellers.
We spent the night near Asilah, a few clicks from Tangiers. Although I’d enjoyed a wonderful dinner and the bed was comfortable I hardly slept. In the early morning I was lulled to sleep by the crash of the sea breaking on the nearby shore. I could feel myself lolling in the waves, dark shapes moving below me, the icy grip of cold water slowly pulling me under. In the distance the dull chug of an old steamer was slowly bearing down on me its propellors churning lazily away unperturbed by the swimmer crossing its bows. I woke with a start, as sweaty as though I’d been dropped in a very deep part of the ocean.