Every morning at 4am, before the sun peeps over the horizon, Guy Dunstan, known as the Temperature Guy, would step into the sea at South Steyne, Manly.
With a headlamp for illumination, he always enters the ocean at the same spot – below the boat ramp at the southern end of Manly Beach. There, armed with a thermometer he would record the seawater temperature and then write the figures on a concrete podium at the south end wall in coloured chalk. It was often accompanied by a picture that held meaning for him or the community more broadly.
He’s been doing it this way since 15 August 2021. But on November 14, he completed his ritual for the final time.
Deciding simply that the moment felt right, Dunstan’s journey as Temperature Guy came to an end after more than four years of pre-dawn ocean pilgrimages.
A sad discovery in January
While he has retired from his post, he still keeps an eye on South Steyne many mornings, and he says he was heartbroken to find his former canvas graffitied this morning, 25 January 2026.
“When I saw it, It was the same feeling I had when my house was robbed. There was something deeply personal about it, a sense of personal violation I guess. It hurt. I am guessing many people in Manly may be feeling the same way too.”
We hope it will be cleaned up quickly.
How did Temperature Guy begin?
What began during the confusion and isolation of COVID lockdowns became a daily ritual that connected Dunstan not just to the ocean, but to his community. His practice, documented on social media, garnered a devoted following of locals, all who had their different reasons to do so, connection the repeating theme.
“I think it’s left something beautiful- I don’t like the word ‘legacy,’ but a good thing for everybody.”
Reflecting on what it all meant over coffee with editor Kim Smee, Dunstan says: “I think it’s left something beautiful- I don’t like the word ‘legacy,’ but a good thing for everybody. I think it carried us all through getting out of COVID. It really feels like it had a role through an era. And now we’re moving on to whatever comes next.”
The journey was also deeply personal. “It gave me a sense of belonging in the community. I can walk around now and not duck my head. You know, the reason I went so early in the morning was I didn’t want to be seen. I kept saying, ‘Oh, it was for the light,’ but really… I was sick of being humiliated. I just did it in the dark because I didn’t want smartass comments.”
“Now I can walk around and hold my head up. I sense it in my heart. And that’s nice. I’m proud of that.”
Dunstan rubs his chest like he’s warming it up. “I feel a lightness.. maybe a sort of light here now. And I feel happy with that. It’s time to finish.”
It’s been a long journey for the 71 year old, who has grappled with finding his place after an long, intense and high-powered executive media career that was interrupted by the darkness of depressive episodes and facing childhood trauma. The ensuing years are a remarkable tale – one that would sit well on the dog-eared pages of a novel one day, perhaps.
But there’s no talk of putting pen to paper right now, he’s only just packed up the chalk.
