“In this bottle is a small part of our parents,” the message in the bottle began. “If you find this bottle washed up somewhere … please feel free to set it off once again on its journey.”
The letter was written by two loving sons of a seafaring couple whose last wish was for their ashes to be mixed so they could go on their final farewell together. Kevin and Nigel Graham gave their parents a fitting bon voyage by launching several bottles from locations around the world where their parents had lived at various times.
That Guy Dunstan would be the one to find the Grahams’ bottle is not surprising. He is down on Manly beach around 4am pretty much every morning, to take the ocean temperature with a meat thermometer. He then spends about an hour chalking the numbers into a small mural on a 1m high concrete drainage pillar protruding from the beach wall. “A perfect canvas,” he says. It’s a free community service he’s been providing for the past two and a half years.
Dunstan knew there was no point in simply throwing the bottle back in the ocean. The request was to “set it off once again on its journey”. And that’s exactly what he made sure happened.
After contacting the family, Dunstan discovered this bottle had failed somewhat in its quest, floating a paltry seven nautical miles (13km) from Bondi beach. To increase the odds of a greater adventure, he sought expert advice on favourable timings and tides. Then – with the help of a friend – he sailed out past Sydney Harbour heads and set the glass bottle off bobbing in a current towards the Pacific.
Dunstan documented the bottle’s journey through a series of Instagram posts he makes about his daily temperature art – and the community reaction provided the Graham family with an unexpected, healing gift. “To see the names of our parents typed in messages by complete strangers on the other side of the world has been so incredibly heartwarming,” Kevin Graham says.
“We couldn’t have wished for a better custodian of our parents, not only for the care Guy took in looking after them, but for the emotional investment he showed in finding a way to facilitate their onward journey.”
Dunstan began “doing the numbers,” as he calls it, during the pandemic when a friend from the local swim group asked him to fill in as a favour. Back then, chalking up the temperature was a two-minute job. That the ongoing ‘“favour” now takes much longer is “by choice” he says.
This act of unpaid kindness is particularly appreciated by hundreds of early risers (the first show up about 5.30am) who take a daily dip in all weathers. Many swim the 1500-metre return from Manly Beach to Cabbage Tree Bay. The year-round display tells swimmers to get in a wetsuit – or to brace themselves.
Dunstan’s dedication harks back to a simple philosophy: You get out what you put in.
Dunstan works in that chirp-less hour between the dead of night and the stirring dawn, when the day is still pondering what mindset it’s in. The searing beam of his headlamp – literally a guiding light – pierces the balmy dark when I join him on his 889th outing.
In between the roars of the sand-raking tractor, he sketches an outline. A few have questioned why the usually bold numbers have shrunk in size of late. It depends on the idea, which has evolved into a pictorial over time and there is only so much room to work with, he says. He responds to those queries by displaying today’s temperature within an optometrist’s eye chart. With a mischievous smile he says: “They love a little puzzle.”
At 5.15am his 24-hour mural is complete. By popular local demand, Dunstan uploads it to his Instagram @temperature_guy_manly with the caption: “#889 eye check”.
“Going down to the ocean in the mornings is a strong part of my routine,” says local swimmer Sally Stobo. “You can tell all the care that’s been put into doing the numbers. It’s like getting a warm hug.”
“It’s not just about the swim, it’s about the community and catching up with friends for a coffee afterwards,” she says. “We know it takes a lot of energy and early mornings. We all care for Guy.”
People often wonder why Dunstan works voluntarily and alone in the dark each day. He says the answer is pinned on his Instagram: “So every morning you know at least one person values and cares about you deeply.”
The 69-year-old, who experienced a fall from the high rungs of the corporate ladder into homelessness, is acutely aware how fortunes can change. Around a decade ago, he took a simpler approach to life and got it back on track. But in recent years, the ghosts of past traumas returned and life fell apart again. “The numbers were all I had. They link me to the community,” he says.
One day, that connection broke when the surf club got a new digital temperature display. Dunstan, thinking he was no longer needed, stopped chalking his arty analogue numbers. The community had other thoughts. He was inundated with more than 1000 messages, asking him to come back.
Although Dunstan insists he’s not an artist, his daily sketches are a much-loved talking point among the local people who gather at the south end of the beach. Whether it’s a “good-luck” to those entering an ocean swim marathon, a get-well to Jimmy Barnes (after his open-heart surgery), or a “thanks for coming” to Taylor Swift, the picture messages – worked around the ocean temperature – have become a part of Manly swimmers’ lives.
Fans who have rocked up in person to help include musician (and TikTok sensation) Bailey Pickles, Australia Ironman champion Kendrick Louis and actor Freya Tingley.
Some mornings have been so cold, wet and windy that the physical act of doing the numbers has been almost impossible, Dunstan says. “At those times you can feel very alone. But I’ve never once woken up and thought ‘I don’t want to do this’.”
Over the coming months, Dunstan will reach a milestone of 1000 mornings. He’s already planning the mural, which will represent a “thank you” for all the messages of encouragement he has received, at times when he felt alone and unwanted.
His millennial outing will not be his last. “It’s about making little deposits, it delivers things,” he says. There will always be someone who needs a warm hug, so he’ll keep on doing the numbers, until he can’t. “It’s just a small thing.”
