Burton Bradstock Breakfast Swim 30th August

MG

(Lots of footsteps across, but only one set seawards...)

A grey day, air like butter and sea so still that when I cut through it it wrinkles like unset jam. I surface from a dive a long way from the shore and see a swallow swooping overhead. Treading water and twisting round to track it, I suddenly realise the sky is crowded with them. Attracted by the insects distrubed by my splashing, they are swooping and chattering all round me in a storming cloud. Then as suddenly as they appeared,  they spiral up and cartwheel out over the sea until they are just flecks of pepper in the sky. They are practising for a longer flight over far more treacherous seas.

One to remember.

West Bay, Sunday 28th August, 8pm

MG

I'm feeling strangely chilled and am secretly relieved when I decide not to force myself into swimming on this blustery day (why do I find it so much more of an effort in August than January?!). But then the sun comes out – SW quashes my whining – and of course it turns out to be one of our top three swims of the summer. We three – Mascot back on board after a few weeks of summer absence – meet in the car park at West Bay where SW reveals he has not only snuck out of a party for this swim and intends to sneak back in before his absence is noted – but has also failed to bring any of his stuff and will be forced to swim in his underwear. Secretly, I appreciate this twist in the story. We're upping the anti from hardcore winter swimmers whatever the weather, to guerrilla swimmers not letting convention or circumstance stand in our way (or where we always like this? Snow swim?!).

Skies have cleared and we abort our prancing in a show of strength, SW plunges into a breaking wave and I follow swiftly. We swim out and look back at the cliffs on which the light is staggering. Just for these ten minutes they flame in the dying sun. We rhapsodise as usual about Dorset. It's a brief swim but perfect. SW tries the cormorants approach to drying (wings outstretched) but eventually succumbs to the loan of my sandpaper towel. Enlivened and refreshed, even The Mascot does some dancing and prancing before disappearing to eat a fisherman's sandwiches.

SW returns to the party too buoyed up to remain undercover and flashes photographs of the golden beach to all. And with blackberries appearing in the hedgerows, the true swimming season is a fast approaching cloud of dust on the horizon. Good news.

Hive, Tuesday 16th August 2011, 7.30pm

Guest blogger; RL, singer, bacon and egg eater, banoffee pie maker and poetry quoter extraordinaire.

Guest blogger, RL

After an entirely slothful afternoon on Cerne Abbas hill I persuade MG to drive to Burton Bradstock for a swim.  Absolutely beautiful day but when we arrive on the beach is distinctly chilly and the sea looks rather treacherous. MG says definitely not swimming but am determined to go in regardless. Assure her that once past the breakers is calm as millpond. SW arrives and recounts v funny story about occasion of MG declining to swim despite small children in sea having a whale of a time (the waves were ENORMOUS! Those children should not have been in!! Ed). She is suitably chastised and we all go in. After the breakers the sea is beautiful, clear and smooth and the waves are perfect for diving. Once we get out far enough it's really quite a pleasant temperature, and there is still a lingering warmth from the heat of the day.

Exit proves interesting as I am affected by uncontrollable laughing fit and end up rolling in the surf in manner of discarded jetsam. Body temperature improves greatly on production of flask of hot water and assam tea bags, and discovery of box of Anna's thins which we consume with alacrity. From our spot we can see the sun setting on a glorious day! O Dorset is beautiful wherever you go (but especially at bb with good friends and good tea).

MG Various

MG

Lots of swimming and very poor blogging from MG, especially in the face of such impressive feats from JJ and SW. First some generic local swimming - I have done a lot of early morning swimming at home this year, and though it doesn't beat an evening swim for me, with the golden light on the cliffs (see below), you do tend to see a snapshot of life with the regular swimmers at Burton Bradstock forming a cosy club. And the glory of going home to a huge breakfast takes some beating.

An almost spirtual day on Dartmoor on 22nd July, with dips at Salmon Leaps and then fortified by Millionaire's Shortbread, at the pool at Belstone which I think is probably my all time favourite swimming spot. I can swim the length underwater in five strokes, but it's always peaceful and however I'm feeling, I come away calmer. No pictures of the pool sadly, but the summer view of the back of my car is good for a laugh...

At Camp Bestival 29th July,  HL (star of the Hampstead Ponds) and I slip off from the chaos and panic of the festival scene for an early morning dip at Worbarrow Bay, wandering thorugh the deserted village of Tyneham to a bay so still and smooth it's like an ice rink. Only us and a few boats. HL front crawls into the distance, while I lounge on my back, suspended above twenty feet of water crystal clear to the bottom.

Followed by a late night swim at Durdle Door before rushing back to catch Blondie. Wet hair, discombobulated and salty, I feel adrift in the crowd of revellers after the peace of the sea.

More West Bay on a stormy day....

Then most recenetly, a little jaunt with ECP where again we have managed to book a hotel in Falmouth almost within diving distance of our hotel windows (see Criccieth, March). I go to sleep knowing a dawn swim is in the offing and make the plunge while ECP showers.

(view from our room)

There are a few serious swimmers out and I plunge joyfully in to join them, again the water wonderfully calm and clear. I do my best mermaid impression in the hope of seeing Brad Pitt who I know is filming offshore, in an ex-navy vessel decked out with snow and icicles, so my winter swimming qualifications would enable me to fit right in. No sightings sadly.

I attempt a swim at Roseland-St-Just on the way home, a beautiful quiet spot below the church here, surrounded by palm trees and gravestones, but am put off by the low tide and muddy estuary. Next time.

And tomorrow, off to Wales where AT and I hope to grab a few swims whilst working at Brecon Jazz festival....

Burnham Overy, Sunday 7th August

Up in JJ's territory for a nostalgic day trip with my family.

Beautiful walk across the marshes to a huge deserted beach. Amazingly quiet given its a sunday in August. Had hoped to wade over to Scolt Head Island but tide too high and, thanks to a new ferry boat service (well it wasnt there 15 years ago) the Island was full of people while the mainland beach was empty.

I had almost forgotten just how special this place is. Sea rocket seed-heads add colour to the beach. 

Swimming though is still a pain - acres of flat beach means ages of wading through knee high water. The water, once reached, was lovely and clear, clean and warm.

SW

Portugal 11-24 July

First week in Olhao on south coast. An amazing town fronting huge tidal lagoons with sand-bar beaches half an hour boat ride away. The distance and effort involved in reaching the beaches mean that they are pretty quiet - small clusters of people where the boats drop off but five minutes walk to blissful solitude. The sea is clear, turquoise over the sand. The seaward side is gently wavy, the lagoon side flat calm. Both are warm but not obscene, probably 20 degrees.

Week two and a new area - halfway down the west coast from Lisbon in the Alentejo. The coast here is more dramatic and wild - huge beaches, crashing waves, jagged black rocks and impressive tidal ranges. The water is cooler too, very similar to the UK at 18 degrees. There are no big towns along this coast and not much agriculture either so the sea is amazingly clean.

One of the beaches at Almograve

Rockpools at Almograve - sheltered from the waves and perfect for snorkelling or swimming

Quiet beach at Malhao

The sea can be a bit wild on this coast and with so many rocks and dangerous tides I kept my swims brief. Inland, there were some very special river swimming spots which allowed for longer and safer swims.

The Rio Mira at high and low tides. A vast tidal river with brackish water at this point, about 10k inland. The water seemed to flow alarmingly fast in the central channel but the edges were gentle enough. The banks were made of thick, black, oozing mud. While this was a bit odd underfoot it did help the water really warm up; in the evening when the rising tide ran over the mud heated by the days sun the water became almost bath-like.

Pego das Pias - Spring-fed natural pond up in the hills between St Luis and Odemira. A long and dusty walk ends in this spectacular swimming spot. The natural pond is huge and extends between sheer sheets of rock, narrowing to a mini canyon, I only explored half of it. The entrance to the pond is gentle and shallow. There were snakes swimming at the warm edges (in alarming shades of red, green and yellow - are water snakes poisonous??). The water was cooler than the sea but far from cold. Beautiful, clean, green-brown. Terrapins sunned themselves on the rocks, diving suddenly when startled.

A great place for a swimming obsessive to spend two weeks..

SW