Going for a swim in the Bogey Hole is like never tiring of listening to the same piece of music, ever. Every time feels like the first time.
And each time is a movement in the concert of my memories. Where winter waters, still and clear, turn into wild, tempestuous dissonance in fearsome tones; where long shadows of languid afternoons slide and skinny dip into balmy summer nocturnes.
I love it when it’s just me and one or two others in the Bogey Hole, where in silent company, we eavesdrop on the sky and the sea.
We can thank Military Commander James Morisset, and the miscreants who probably died in the process, for creating this rugged little pool near 200 years ago. In 1819, the Commander commissioned convict labour to cut this pool out of the sandstone conglomerate rock shelf, just beneath the bit of headland off King Edward Park.
A word of precaution – though it’s a small pool that’s not very deep, it is historic in every sense and has been known to take the lives of those careless, disrespectful or insensible. Adagio, per favore!
Words and photos by Rowena Foong
18th August, 2013