Monday October 24th

Monday October 24<sup>th,

KH</sup> 

Another frosty night....

MG, SW and I, with dogs, meet at Cogden – my suggestion as it’s my favourite stretch of the Chesil beach, wilder and more open and, especially now at half-term, emptier than anywhere else. The sky is brilliantly blue, the sun warm, the wind barely a whisper, and the bouncy waves of the last few days have died down to leave just a  lacy edge of foam on the shore line. In other words conditions are PERFECT, almost identical to those of about three weeks ago when MG and I swam here, except for the fact that the water temperature has dropped after some very cold nights.

I leave my swimsuit in the car and have to race back up the hill and down again by which time I am positively hot. SW and MG are waiting, warming themselves in the sun. We discuss how many calories are burned up by cold water swimming – a lot surely but perhaps not equal to the five slices of toast/fry ups/double hot chocolate you feel is your due. We delay no longer and are straight in. Percy wades into the foam and then retreats and takes up his lifeguard duties.  It’s cold but not colder, or so it seems to me. But I keep my head out of the water, unlike MG and SW. I think we will soon need hats and fantasise about a flowery turban.  When we arrived the beach was entirely empty – though you could see crowds at Burton – but as we swim a few walkers and dogs appear on the shingle, bundled up in coats. They stare at us – respect? Incredulity? I no longer warm up in the water, at least not completely and I have odd areas of numbness and an ache in my shoulders and upper arms – but it’s possible to stay in, for ten minutes or so. And today the sun gently warms my face as I swim towards it.  Having stayed in too long last week – subsequently taking to my bed with two hot water bottles – I’ve learned my lesson and get out before my body temperature drops too far, a little sooner than I really want to get out.  We dress quickly and SW hands out little mugs of sweet, milky camp coffee – the perfect post-swim tipple. 

MG is looking forward to donning fleecy track suit bottoms post-swim. I wonder about giant fleecy baby-gros. Tomorrow the weather is due to change – rain and wind on the way – so this might be the last of these beautiful October days. Not our last swim we hope.    

Sunday 24th October, 11.30am

SW

As with many of our swims, it all started with a scream and then some pathetic whimpering. For once though, it was not one of us swimmers - we were all still fully dressed and toasty. It was The Mascot who, being a touch melodramatic, had nudged her damaged paw and decided to let the whole beach know about it. She was swiftly escorted back to the car to recover on the back seat.

A glorious sunny autumn day, blue sky, clear air and a calm-ish sea. Four swimmers took the plunge into waters turbid from the previous 48 hours rain. We had already gone eastwards along the beach to try and escape a small slick of encroaching scum - muddy run-off and best-not-to-ask stuff that comes down the rivers after heavy rain. Striking further out the sea cleared enough to enjoy the beautiful cool water. A few stabbing sensations observed all round which means it must be getting cooler. One of the things I love about cold water is feeling pains in bits of your body that you did not even know existed. It is also amazingly energising - whatever stresses or moods we arrive with at the beach, after a few minutes in the water all is forgotten and we are all incredibly glad we made it.

MG disappeared off towards the horizon while SW, SN and KH came back to the shallows. Since some of our members had to take to bed after the previous days swim we decided on a slightly shorter dip today. Drying off, the sun was out and I was barely shaking at all. MG made it back in one piece which we were all very glad about as although its a comfort to swim in a group, at the end of a swim we would all be hopeless in a life-saving situation having already spent all our store of heat.

Forecast remains good for tomorrow, October is turning into a swim-fest.

(Later on, looking down at the sea, and contemplating a second swim, but you have to draw the line somewhere....)

How not to swim in the north sea: Old Hunstanton:Sea far far away: 11:45

JJ

 

I am shamefaced at the fact that it has been 14 days since my last swim a frustrating head cold and work having got in the way. The last time it was on one of those sticky hot days which lulls you into the false sense that summer hasn’t ended and all those copper coloured trees and the morning frost are an illusion. 14 days later it is most definitely autumn, which I love by the way despite it limiting my sea time. But I know that my body needs to be regularly in the sea to keep acclimatized cold showers just aren’t enough. My camera seems determined to only show blissful blue skys even though on the long trudge out to the shore line, we are drenched by a passing squall. The tide even at this distance is still going out and I am somewhat regretting not getting here at some ungodly hour this morning to swim off the high tide. Even though my companion refuses point blank to even contemplate swimming I am far from alone today the kite surfers are out in force and are flying from crest to crest on the extremely choppy sea. I strip off my wet clothes and run in and wade out through the surf which is boiling around me an eye out for the surfers who are zipping along to my left. It is colder I can tell straight away but still not the sharp shock. As soon as I am fully under it stops raining and the sun comes out directly overhead I kick back into the waves facing the shore and It could be the middle of summer except for the growing prickly feeling in my hands and arms, I watch the tiny people walking along the beach, the swell is strong and I don’t let myself get out of my depth as I can feel the pull out to sea. The all over body pins and needles effect starts to get a little much so I pull myself out even the crashing surf not pushing me in but weirdly holding me in place, I am glad that I haven’t left it to long as I can see how quickly the cold is tiring me today. Scarlet and hot I take my towel and we walk back to the dryer sand to change. Putting on damp clothes is hardly ideal and I forgo the warming tea at the beach café to get back to the car, and some furry boots to warm my numb toes.  When to wear a hat is a question I am debating as well, I loathe the rubber ones but if it means it’s more bearable then I guess I will suffer it, though today some kind of flashing beacon would have been useful as I spent most of the time worrying I was about to be knocked out by a surfboard.

Friday 22nd October, 1.30pm

MG

SW breaks the news to me as we meet that KH had to retire to bed with a hot water bottle after our swim yesterday, and when he stopped to do some shopping on the way home, his hands were shaking so much that he couldn’t input his pin. Suddenly my two baths don’t seem so bad. But I think we’ve all learnt that staying in too long at this temperature is UNWISE.

I’ve got the Mascot and the Mascottini, which is the worst of both worlds. I’m trying to persuade myself that it’s because the Mascot isn’t fully recovered, and to back up this story, I’m forcing her to stay on the lead. Actually, I just couldn’t bear to leave the Mascottini at home. So she’s frolicking ahead and dashing back to boast to the Mascot “this is where Percy nearly trampled the bluebottle” “this is where I thought MG had drowned” while the Mascot plods glumly along, resentment and betrayal all over her whiskery face.

It’s been a sunny morning but is beginning to cloud up by the time SW, the Long Suffering SH and I are united at West Bay at 1.30. There’s also a brisk wind and large-ish, though unscary, waves. But SW’s policy of changing and doing is a good one, and before we can feel too horror struck, we are taking the plunge, with only a few squeaks of protest. The knives of cold stab and subside; it’s bliss. Clear, wavy, sun flickering in and out, that settling feeling of calm and tranquillity which must be something to do with the cold; as physical feeling fades, so too does emotional – all that’s left is, as SW temptingly puts it, a sensation of being bathed in wart-destroying liquid nitrogen, and a mind empty of all but joy and peace.

I don’t feel cold at all, even after 20 minutes (which we agree is probably about as long as we should allow ourselves to stay in) and really have to force ourselves out, turning back several times to do some prancing. SW has an edge of chill, but thinks it is warmer underwater; I point out this is probably due to the blood rushing from his heart to his brain in a desperate attempt at self preservation. When we do emerge, I’m again pink all over and having had an accidental swallow and choke episode with a galloon of sea water, to my pleasure my voice has sunk a gravely four octaves. We rush to change while the heat surge lasts. But… “I bet you’re jealous now” stammers SW through gritted teeth as he struggles into t-shirt, jumpers, coats, and I pull on two pairs of over-the-knee socks and wellies “yes, really jealous….” Says SH with a sardonic smile.

The joyful moment has arrived when The Bar is thrusting up it’s shutters and putting out it’s tables for the Winter season – a thermos of Camp Coffee, the world’s most delicious drink. SW points out that if we were drinking it at home, it probably wouldn’t be so blissful, but at this place, at this time, it hits the spot like a hypodermic full of nectar. We have a classic conversation while SW sloshes coffee all over himself with shaking hands; the cold and delirium for a moment transporting us into the lives of two Retirement Home Residents;

MG “You can make delicious milkshakes with Camp Coffee”

SW “You can?”

MG “You did?”

SW “What?”

MH “What”

While SH looks bemusedly from one to the other. It only comes to an end as I dissolve into giggles.

We’re refreshed and pleasantly chilled as we pack up and head to the cars, discussing ways of enlivening the blog over the winter, as our swimming locations become unavoidably narrower. The Swimmer in the Bath Tub perhaps?

I return home to a parcel of jams from our Norfolk outpost, JJ, and a note I think I may frame...

Thursday 21st October 11.30am

MG

Today I made some mistakes, discovered something horrifying and Percy nearly trampled the world’s smallest dog betwixt his enormous Labradoodle paws. It’s a fairly average swimming day.

I returned yesterday from “sunnier” climes where in fact it rained almost ceaselessly, and my only glimpse of the wine-dark sea was as a blur whilst running to escape an “acqua bomba” (no joke, actual headline) which washed a tidal wave of water almost over our Lancia. Even I could not face a dip amidst the thunder and lightening of that storm. So it’s with a singing heart that I cast aside my passport and awake to a glorious day.

We’ve set a date for 11.15 at West Bay, and I and the Mascottini join KH, Percy and a new recruit, SN, on the picture perfect beach. The Mascot is almost recovered but I’m now in a quandary as the Mascottini has taken to her new role like, forgive me, a duck to water, and prising her out of it isn’t going to be easy. But the Mascot hasn’t gained her title for nothing and I will harden my heart and leave the Mascottini and all her engaging traits in her basket the instant the Mascot is given a clean bill of health….

SN is new to us but not to the sea, and on the arrival of SW we stroll a little further down the beach, exchanging tricks and ideas about cold water swimming (hats – to do or not to do?). There’s been an abrupt drop in temperature since I left in both sea and air with night frosts…

I’m wary of the water and as we wade in my face scrunched up against the cold. We all agree it feels much colder. KH is in first, as always shaming us with her bravery, and I’m next under and out, through the class clear water. Bracing no longer covers it, and for a moment forgotten pains grab me in my back and across my shoulders – the knives of cold are out. SW rejoices as his favourite stabbing pain returns in his “disco wings” (an old favourite from when we couldn’t remember the term “bingo wings”). I plough ahead, gritting my teeth against the cold and after a few moments, it’s passed and I’m toasty warm. But I’m a little shaken by how cold it felt, and I’m aware afresh that swimming all year round isn’t all going to be beer and skittles. I try to phrase this to SW but his look of horror and panic on detecting a note of weakness leads me to hastily reaffirm my wild swimming pledge – All Year Round.

And now, comes a moment of horror. KH and SN have taken off sideways, swimming parallel to the shore, and SW and I are heading outwards. About halfway to the end of the Pier, SW, glancing downwards, remarks on how amazingly clear it is, you can see the ripples on the sand beneath us and feel like you can reach out and touch it. I agree. SW disappears underwater and I gaze upwards at the cruising gulls. And then – I can hardly bear to write it – SW emerges with a handful of sand clenched in his fist. He HAS touched the bottom! All these years we’ve been boasting about the unfathomable depths, and all the time they were just 15 feet below us! I feel like I’m in The Matrix. The line between reality and fantasy, fact and fiction, is blurred forever. SW is so alarmed he texts me from home 7 hours later to tell me how freaked out he is. Luckily though, we agree that a) we are swimming above a freak sandbank b) it’s a very odd tide due to the approach of the full moon c) nothing has happened, and if it has we will never refer to it again. The surface has been ruffled for a moment, but now the water closes over the unquestionably UNFATHOMABLE depths.

We paddle inwards, SW admitting to a pleasant frisson of cold. I can’t bear to give in and the others are the same, wading out before dashing back in and swimming energetically. It’s too good to stop. As KH, SN, and finally SW do go in, like the idiot I am I disobey my own rule and stay in far too long. I’ve sunk in to a state of such blissful tranquillity, all my preoccupations dropping away to settle far (far, far, FAR) below me – that I no longer care about ever getting out. But as the others finish dressing and KH does some warming star jumps, I drag myself ashore. I am “alarmingly pink” (KH) all over, as though peeled and marinated. The glow of inside seems to be burning through to outside. I dress hurriedly, but not hurriedly enough, and as we set off down the beach, I’m fighting a biting chill. As Percy galumphs up to a dog the size and shape of a bluebottle, which gazes up at him with horrified eyes, I’m fighting off shivering and cannot follow KH and SW’s conversation at all due to the roaring in my ears. I’m completely breathless as we climb up the bank away from the beach but manage to pant to SW that I feel like my lungs are closing up. A passing walker looks a little shaken, so I give a toss of my damp head and a gasping attempt at a merry laugh. I wave off the others and collapse into my car. Once home, the paralysis of cold is easily cured by two hot baths, tights, leggings, furry slippers and four helpings of pasta and piperonata. Maybe a little less time in the water tomorrow….

Tuesday 19th October, 4.30pm

Brighton.

Another run/swim combo. This time the weather is looking less promising and SH has gone to London so I have key issues again. But after a tricky day I really need salt water. Same route but a lot less people and a really cold wind. Disappointingly the wind has changed to a south westerly so there are plenty of waves and the water is a dirty gray. Still, I run, get warm, forget about the day. I swim at almost exactly the same point as Sunday but this time I cannot see another person on the beach. But I dont even think about keys. I must be adapting.

The water has cooled again and I can feel my tired muscles start to seize up. A shorter swim, dodging the waves but swallowing lots of water (I always seem to take on loads of water when doing crawl in wavy seas...). The post-swim climb was really hard this time as my legs were cold - I think the water and air temp maybe just too low now to follow a swim with more running, it will have to be a fair weather combo. Or just end with a swim and walk home (walk? oh the shame). Still, I made it home in time to replenish all those lost calories on a big round of buttery toast.

Sunday 17th October, 10am

Brighton.

Miraculously I am up early on a Sunday morning. And it’s a beautiful Sunday morning too. Still feeling frustrated at not getting to swim in Dorset the previous day – perfect conditions but no time – I am determined to go before other stuff can get in the way.

Feeling efficient, I decide on another run/swim combo. SH stays at home which means no paranoia and worries about keys this time. My route is about 1k downhill, 3k up and down the level seafront, stop for a swim them 1k back uphill. Total 5k plus dip.

My running kit consists of hand-me-down trainers and t-shirts that should be used as rags but which I cannot yet bear to part with. SH is slightly appalled. It makes me laugh to be just about the only person I see not sporting either the white lines of an ipod or clean, new designer label clothing. I guess I look pretty scruffy but that’s what a few years in West Dorset does to you, turns you a little feral.

The sea was calm, flat, beautiful in the sun. Plenty of people appearing post-breakfast and a few making it to the beach but still no other swimmers. The heat from a run seems to make me temporarily immune to the water temperature and it just feels such an amazing luxury to be able to slip under the surface and immerse. The water must be getting cooler as I start to feel a bit chilled after only 10 minutes. So its back to the beach to start the ascent home.