Sunday 7th November, Various



Burton Bradstock, 1.30

KH

When the phone rings and I hear MG’s voice my heart actually sinks a little – nothing to do with her, but only that I can see it’s a swimming kind of day and I don’t feel like swimming AT ALL. Nevertheless I can’t resist the challenge and I know still, sunny days in November are not to be counted on and I am rather longing to try out my new pink frilly swimming hat.  So we meet at Burton Bradstock, where people are sitting outside the Hive tucking into fish and chips.  The sea is perfectly calm – a light, chilly breeze just ruffling the surface – and the sun still has some warmth to it.  As it’s Sunday there are a quite a lot of people strolling up and down the beach and we are stared at as we change self-consciously. But the hat, I have to say, is a triumph – everything one could hope for from a swimming hat, just the right degree of frilliness and a good, deep shade of pink (altogether superior to the turban).  We get in and the water is decidedly colder – perhaps a couple of degrees - than a week ago and cloudy from several days of wind, but still entirely bearable. We swim about and gaze back at the cliffs, all majestic and golden. The dogs guard our clothes and gaze at us.  My limbs tingle but my head, beneath the pink ruffles, remains toasty warm.  After ten minutes or so, as numbness begins to take over, we get out - to much cavorting from Percy and disdain from the Mascot - and struggle damply into clothes.  And of course, as usual, I feel thrilled and renewed and the day takes on a fresh complexion.   

Kemp Town, 2.30pm

SW

Bright sunlight and blue skies masked the true temperature when sheltered amongst town buildings. Walking down to the beach and watching the arrival of the first few London to Brighton veteran cars, the cold and strong north wind became more and more obvious.  The sea was flat calm. The north wind creating just a few ripples and the sun making the water look a tempting dark blue. This was too good an opportunity to miss given the newspaper headlines in town warning of 70mph gales overnight. There were a few people on the beach enjoying the sun but nobody in the water.

I was already wearing four layers against the cold so changing took ages but once changed, I was in the water before I could register cold wind. Cool but not stabbing grey-blue water, clear enough to see my hands when swimming and bright from the sunlight brought me back to life. Knowing more walking in the cold was to follow I opted for a shorter swim, – straight out into the depths to enjoy the view back from marina to pier, followed by a sprint to shore in an effort (vain) to warm up.

Changing back into my four layers on the beach was a race against the north wind which almost won, taking the last bits of heat from me while I tried to get dry and struggled to put on clothes while still half wet. Walking back towards town I hugged the beach-front sun-kissed iron railings, enjoying their amazing warmth only to be told by SH that the railings were in fact cold to a normal person and I must just be significantly colder than them. That was slightly worrying. I thought they felt like lovely hot radiators. Three cups of tea and a slab of carrot cake later I was back to a relative normal and enjoying some delayed invigoration.

Old Hunstanton: 15:45

JJ

 Trumpets please!!! My first November swim ever! Ok no more exclamation marks. . I am feeling somewhat fraudulent after the dramatic posting from MG and SW. I really can’t see there ever being a point here where I wouldn’t be able to go in because of the sea being too rough.  The only major danger might come from accidently straying in to the path of one of the Kite surfers or being breathed on by a seal (a diet of raw fish does not make for fragrant breath).

We left it as late in the day as possible to catch the incoming tide.  Arriving at the beach the sun was just hovering over the horizon. My guarder of the wellies today R.J. was still wavering on whether to come in or not his last swim having been on an unusually hot and sticky October day, despite the deceptive brilliant sunshine the air temperature is definitely bracing.

 My strategy at the moment to discourage any form of bottling out is to get as close to the water as possible, strip off and dash in before I have anytime to over think it. Today however this tactic almost ended in a minor disaster. I choose a spot which I thought was far enough away from the approaching tide for my clothes and waded out. When the water reached my waist I had to have a little pep talk before I dived in but after that it was glorious I swam through the baby breakers parallel to the shore. Accompanying our normal audience of dog walkers today were two people Paracending. I  look back to see R.J. fending off a dog a little to thrilled to have found my things and carry on the Paracenders still buzzing round in circles over head.

When I next turn to shore R.J. is stripping off and running full tilt into the sea. Clearly the shame of wussing out on a challenge is too much. I yell encouragement as he dives straight in. He takes the plunge pool approach and is soon running out again as  I stay in a bit longer until when I  look back  at our pile of discarded clothes it seems as if the water is getting dangerously close. I run out, feeling the impending dread of having to put on wet socks.  R.J. had got back just in time and carried them to safety and he informs me that before he came in he had moved them three times already, I feel a little stupid as everyone knows how fast the water comes in on these flat wide beaches.  I carefully rub the feeling back into my arms and feet and we head off for some hot chocolate but I really feel the need for something stronger.