High Tide Tonight 

More: Articles by Grafton Maggs

Like most Mumbles boys, I'm not sure which came first, the ability to walk or the ability to swim Most of us, from West Cross to Southend lived within two minutes run of the sea; so probably swimming came first. With no doubt, our favourite bathing place was the sea off Oystermouth—a sea of dubious content and yet no one I knew ever seemed to suffer as a result of frequent total immersion in its grey opaque waters. 

The favoured stretch of beach extended from Oystermouth station to that groyne nearest Mumbles pier, now engulfed by the Knab Rock development. Just about everybody swam —all ages and at all times. Due to the rapid rise and fall of tide in Swansea Bay, it was possible to have an early evening swim at 5.30 off the above groyne and then half an hour later, walk along the promenade to Southend station, a stretch known as 'the Concrete’ and swim off the steps. A further half an hour and the tide would have reached 'the Big Pipe' by 'the Piles', where the water skiers operate nowadays and again we would swim. 

Within the hour, the tide would reach the bowling-green steps and this was the best swim of the night. By 8.30, four or five swims on, we were ready to go home with soaking towels, chattering teeth and blue skin. We were tired out, enormously satisfied and with the knowledge that  hot cocoa and a bag of chips from Johnny's would put everything right.

Weekends and holidays meant morning swims and I can recall few more magical moments to equal the freshness of the morning, the sparkling sea and the company of my dear old pals Bernard and Ray Hullin. A whole morning would be spent on the bowling green steps, putting the world to rights, discussing our dreams, and swimming in between— Halycon days!

Several times a year, the tide would be high enough for the cry to go around Mumbles ‘High tide tonight! Off the sea wall !’ Hundreds of people would collect along the front to swim or watch. Intrepid youngsters would dive off the sea wall near Oystermouth station. Being foolhardy and in order to be the first off, meant diving far too soon. For this reason true Mumbles boys have flat heads or dents (like mine)!

Far out in the bay and now long gone were 'the Nets', which consisted of very tall poles with nets strung between, which trapped the fish as the tide receded. Later, at low tide the fish would be collected for market. It was a swim of several miles to the net poles and back. We swam in a group, amongst were would be, Jackie Timothy, Bryn Balsdon, Rowley Thomas, Norman Colley, Fred Grace and others and we looked after one another. 

I remember, years later, on the anniversary of the sinking of the Repulse by the Japs, ex-Chief Petty Officer Bryn Balsdon describing his swim from the sinking ship to a British destroyer. During this long swim, he thought of his boyhood struggle to reach 'the Nets'— swims, which gave him the stamina to survive that dreadful day!

It was a high tide night on 2nd September 1939. A glorious day was cooling off as a reddening sun sank behind Oystermouth Castle. The tide was within 3ft of the top of the wall and a gentle swell undulated along its surface. The sea was like a millpond and the heat mist across the bay promised even better things to come. As ever, hundreds of people were present and were startled to hear a shriek from John (Butty) Hinds ‘Look at the Mumbles Train!’ The train was pulling into Oystermouth station with its lights masked with blue paint. A glance across the darkening bay and I saw there were no lights around the coast or within the town! War was imminent and we were not to see those lights again for six years. Life was never going to be the same again.

Grafton Maggs, 2019: 'Hard to believe that 80 years have passed since that eve of war Saturday in 1939! I was 14 years of age and my mind still buzzes with memories - so very many and still so clear!' 

Previously published in the All Saints’ Parish magazine, May, 1996

More:

 A selection of articles by Grafton Maggs

Photos Mumbles and Southend

Fishing Weirs in the Parish of Oystermouth 

and

Mumbles at War