There are some experiences on Lundy that stay with you long after they have happened. Swimming through bioluminescence is one of them. Over the last five years I have been fortunate enough to witness the sea glowing several times – each time feels just as magical as the first.
Robert Macfarlane writes that “The magical glow of bioluminescence, caused by tiny organisms like dinoflagellate algae and plankton, is best experienced in August or September.”
This year, however, the sea has surprised us. Mid-July and already the conditions have been right, drawing us down to the Landing Bay twice in the space of a fortnight.
Preparing for a Night Swim
Like many adventures on Lundy, this one began in the Marisco Tavern. Before we arranged the adventure, we had checked the weather forecast, the tide and the sea conditions, hoping that everything would come together. Head torches packed alongside swimming costumes and snorkel masks. Our small group made its way through Millcombe and down the Beach Road to the Jetty.
Darkness is essential, if you are to experience bioluminescence properly, and on our last trip we arrived a little too early. We found ourselves all standing together at Christis quay, watching the sea gradually lose its colour as daylight slipped away. Every so often someone would stir the water with a foot or shine a cautious glance across the surface, wondering whether tonight would be a night the sea came alive.
In previous years we have entered the water from Christie’s Quay, where the stone walls provide a feeling of shelter. This time, however, an easterly wind had pushed lots of jellyfish into the quay and up the slipway, making it a less inviting place to swim. Instead we made our way to the end of the Jetty. I climbed down the ladder at the end, whilst some launched themselves confidently into the darkness, hoping their first splash would be enough to wake the tiny organisms beneath the surface.
The First Stroke
Stepping into the sea after dark is a very different experience from swimming on a bright summer afternoon. There is a moment of hesitation as you launch into black water, and for a second your imagination is far more active than it ever is during daylight. Curiously, there is also something reassuring about not being able to see what lies beneath you. The jellyfish disappear into the darkness, as do the seals and every other imagined creature that might otherwise occupy your thoughts. Instead, your attention is drawn to the only light that remains: the flash of South Light sweeping across the bay. Less than a second of light is followed by five seconds of darkness before the cycle begins again.
My first breaststroke answered the question we had all been asking. The water sparkled with every movement of my hands I disturbed the Dinoflagellate. My feet left glowing trails behind them and, almost immediately, excited voices echoed across the water as everyone came together in the water.
Swimming Through Light
We gradually gathered beneath the Jetty where the darkness was even deeper. Away from the last traces of twilight, the bioluminescence became even brighter.
Masks were passed from one swimmer to another so everyone could look beneath the surface. Every arm movement and every kick created another burst of light. For a few moments it felt less like swimming and more like floating through a sky full of stars.
After about fifteen minutes I was ready to climb back onto the ladder. The water always feels colder at night, although in reality it is often little different from the daytime temperature.
The Walk Back
Dry clothes, head torches and the familiar climb back up Beach Road might signal the end of the adventure. However if you are lucky tne Manx Shearwaters will be heard overhead. Invisible in the darkness, they flew low over heads, calling to one another as they come back to their nesting burrows in the cliffs. Their haunting cries above us.
If you’ve never heard Manx shearwaters calling in the dark, it is a sound unlike anything else. Wild, eerie and strangely beautiful, it is one of the sounds I know I will miss most when I eventually leave Lundy.
Here is a clip of the Manx Shearwater bird call.
Reaching Home
Returning home, Its a little hard to sleep, after such an adventure. My body still feeling fresh with the water. I can still hear the Manx Shearwaters from my bathroom. With all the late night excitement I take a tot of Rum as a night cap. Then I slowly unwind and drift off to sleep thinking of the many stars still twinkling in the sea.
If You Ever Get the Chance…
There is something unforgettable about swimming in water that glows around you, as though the sea itself has become alive with light.
If you’re hoping to witness bioluminescence, choose a dark night with little or no moon, check the tide tables and wait for calm sea conditions. You may catch glimpses of the glowing water from the shore, but the real magic happens when you step into it and every movement becomes a trail of living light.
Some experiences stay with you forever.
Swimming through a sea full of stars is one of them.
Sadly it is really difficult to get photos at night
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