The sweet harmony of crashing waves slowly ease their way through into my consciousness. I spin on the bed, trying to coax another half an hour’s rest from the already stifling hot day. The early sun’s rays have heated the canvas annex to the point of a sauna and beads of sweat are starting to run off my body.
“Just a little more…” I think to myself casting off even the smallest corner of the sheet which had been touching me in the vain hope that it would cool me off.
Ten minutes later, after tossing and turning and trying to force myself back into the bliss of sleep, the war against the ever increasing heat off the sun is lost.
I open my eyes and squint into the light. Willing my body to rise by slinging first one leg and then the other over the side of the bed, I give the final push-off with my hands to reach the standing position. I am anything but awake still.
Sleeping in my swimmers gives a great advantage for my next move. Half-walking, half-stumbling out into the sunlight I start pulling the sleep out of tired eyes and robotically make my way down to the beach. It is less hot outside but a lot brighter. Even at 7am the day is very bright and the sun is strong.
Encouraged by the sight of the crashing waves I stumble sleepily onward. As the cool waters wrap around my feet there is a strength that begins to return to my legs. As I push deeper, passing through the turbulence of each wave, strength continues to return.
Soon, waist deep in the agitated waters, I dive head first through the next large wave, down into the turquoise-blue waters. The rush of cool water envelops me, wrapping its smooth liquid touch around my drowsy head and pulling all remnants of sleep from it. By the time I emerge out the other side, breaking through the surface of the water back into the brightness of day, all tiredness has gone.
I am ready now for the day. There is no better way to wake up than diving into a large surf.