27th December 2010. Norfolk. Snettisham 11.00am

After a very disappointing December when work and illness have kept me out of the water. Only S.W.'s and M.G.'s posts have been keeping my swimming hopes alive. My closest encounter with the water during this time has been taking the passenger ferry from West Lynn to Kings Lynn. However dramatic this has been,(in the middle of the river in a blizzard and the boat crunching into the ice flowing out to sea, incidental the first time in my life I have seen ice in the River Great Ouse) It is not swimming so I commit myself on Christmas eve to a post Christmas dip in the Wash by inviting some old friends to witness the insanity thus leaving myself no opportunity to back out.
As I walk over the top the wind cuts right through me straight off the sea but seeing the waiting trio I  brazen it out. Dropping my stuff I start stripping off as we chat about Christmas, food , booze and presents. Today is the first trial of my new wetsuit socks and gloves and to mark the occasion I top this dashing ensemble off with my floral swimming cap. I walk calmly into the water and within a few steps it is deep enough to swim.  For the first minute the socks and gloves seem to be making this incredibly easy no tingling hands! Toasty feet! However as soon as I start to kick the socks half slide off my feet and are flapping around like extra useless flippers. I am actually swimming though not just flapping around trying to keep my arms moving which is an improvement from last time. I can't actually give any real description of the water. It was cold. That seems totally inadequate but I can only really describe it's effects by how long it took for me to start stiffening up which was roughly five minutes.
 Only when I got out of the water did I make the transition from black and white to technicolour. Skin on fire, check. No feeling in feet, check. My wonderful friends await holding out the towel and proceed to hand me clothing in the appropriate order. There are quite a lot of people around today but they completely ignore us as if we are just a cold water mirage?
Fully clothed in record time I take the requisite sea shots I know they look as if they are almost in black and white but it really was that grey. Luckily for you faithful readers M.G. and S.W. are still filling the blog with beautiful swimming porn type photography. Back to the car for medicinal hot sweet tea and then off to the pub and open fires and rather stronger medicinal drinks.

This dip has restored my confidence however and I am  determined to make it into January. See you all on the other side. Happy New Year !

Sunday 12th December, Cogden

3.45 Cogden

MG

And Lo, it came to pass – another beautiful Sunday, clear blue skies and much warmer. I suggest a walk by the sea to My Brother from Abroad (abroad in a place where they have saunas attached to their bathrooms as standard!) and put my swimming costume on under my clothes, just in case. With SW away and suspiciously quiet, and JJ bed bound with flu, I’ve got an obligation to represent the team, but I’m careful not to promise anything.

We walk the Mascot along the reed beds behind the beach and halfway round I spot a familiar curly greypelt advancing joyfully towards us – Percy and KH. We launch into discussion, treating MBFA to the interactive-blog experience (listening to us rambling about water temperature and recent experience). I hadn’t rung KH as I knew she’d ring me if she felt like a swim, but of course on seeing me she is instantly drawn by the lure the sea has over us. Last year she swam in December, long after I had been invalided out, but the snow and the cold snap have, quite understandably, broken her. I remind her it’s not a competition (which are hollow words as it quite obviously is a competition, but between unspecific competitors – the sea? The winter? The Prancers? The rest of the world?) but as we part MBFA bets me that by the time we pass again (we are going clockwise, KH anti-clockwise) KH will have given in to temptation and decided to join. Half an hour later I see her in the distance testing out the water temperature. But without her stuff and with a long walk back to the car she decides against and tears herself away with a visible wrench. It’s a painful parting as I know she’s thinking she will regret it, but let’s remind ourselves that she swam at the end of November, 3 months after normal people had stopped. And I hope she will reappear with flasks and hot water bottles to guide us through the dreaded dawn if 2011.

With KH’s figure receding in the distance, I tear off my clothes and advance, MBFA gallantly manning the mobile phone, smoking a fag, taking photos, reassuring the Mascot. Again, I’m ridiculously brave and apart from the burning in my arms and pounding of my heart, it isn’t too painful. Actually I think the boots (as well as the perfect conditions) help with this as they protect me from the first agonizing step when the nerve endings in my toes send a frantic SOS to my brain. By the time the water has lapped around my shins, I’m in too deep to give up. I manage a pretty respectable swim, in and out for three separate dips and even achieving a thought about the beauty of the setting sun in the mirror of the water and the pleasure of having MBFA here with me. Normally it’s imposible to think of anything except how much longer you can be in before your organs will start to shut down. I submerge – delicious brain freeze – and re-emerge feeling fantastic and glowing scarlet.

Walking back to the car I get a bit babbly and giggly and breathless, but never feel unbearably cold, just pleasantly chilled. And there is something extremely satisfying about going indeed. to a Carol Service that evening knowing I have SWUM IN THE SEA. Joyful and Triumphant indeed.

Sunday 4th December, various

Poole Harbour, 9.30 am
SW

Friends rented a cottage in Purbeck for the weekend and I was lucky enough to join them for a few days. We stayed on  Goathorn Peninsular which is just behind Studland in Poole Harbour. It is an isolated spit of land covered in pines and heath with water on 3 sides, ending in a jetty. Heaven.

The snow may have gone overnight but its still icy underfoot and I think/fear that the harbour will be full of meltwater. Brrr. Despite registering almost zero bravery, the location, weather and water are all so unbelievably beautiful that I really have no option but to swim.  

Watching over me I have four temporary lifeguards on land and oystercatchers, curlews and a kingfisher in the water. It does feel a bit chilly but I am in such awe of my surroundings that I wade straight in and dive under. Delicious brain freeze. Oddly not very salty water (brackish here). Milky to murky under the surface but mill-pond still. There was the confusing remains of a mist combining with the water on the horizon to give a single expanse of grey-blue.

A brief swim, a re-entry dive then a hot cup of tea. The sun comes out as I do allowing me to stand and bask for a while before having to get dressed. This place is amazing and I make a vow to come back here for a long swim when the water is warmer.

Burton Bradstock, 3.00

MG

…and phew, in a moment of panic, I spoke far too soon! After waking up to blue skies and getting boiling hot walking the dogs, I resolve to swim by any means necessary – it's too good a chance to miss, and I know it'll be worth it, even if just to make our next swim more manageable. I consider exerting some pressure on KH, but I know that being bullied into submerging in icy water doesn't exactly add to the pleasure. So by a series of cajoling, threatening and empty promises I manage to persuade my unwilling non-support support team to accompany me to the beach and act as lifeguard, and ironically, repel any would be life-savers who think I'm drowning or committing suicide (always my fear). We motor down to Burton Bradstock where as usual on a Sunday, the café is stuffed with people eating fish and chips and staring out to sea and the cliff is studded with people walking their dogs and staring out to sea. But having someone with me makes the audience seem less of an issue (even though my companion warns me that she is going to pretend not to know me, taking a leaf out of JJ's Reluctant Lifeguard's book). The only issue is the grey, freezing waves. My resolve weakens as I watch the surprisingly big waves breaking. But luckily I have talked myself into a corner, so I cast off my clothes, pull on my wetsuit boots and plunge. The boots actually give me an air of authority – I look less like someone who has "gone on holiday by mistake" and more like a serious, well prepared Winter Swimmer. And once in the water they make a huge difference – not discombobulating, and toasty toes.

As always on my own, I'm incredibly brave by necessity and fall in, swim around, out and in again with minimal fuss. It isn't the longest or nicest (murky) swim but I go under and do some backstroke before emerging, glowing and laughing. Most excitingly of all, as I pull off my boots (which is incredibly difficult as SW has warned me – I nearly dislocate my fingers) a slurp of water sloshes out and STEAMS on contact with the cold air. I almost pass out as the smugness levels rocket.

Once dressed in my 15,000 layers (and not feeling even vaguely cold) we head back along the beach. My non-support support team is showing signs of being proud and impressed, and is extremely complementary on my zero-prancing getting in approach. I'm just basking in the glow and thinking that perhaps it's time to drop the "non-support" part of her title, when two fishermen break into a round of applause as I pass. They then negate this by saying "nice to see someone stupider than us!".

Saturday 4th December, The Heroes Subdued

MG

This is the only sort of swimming I'm doing at the moment;

It's so annoying. Due to frozen lanes, confusing schedules of double households, other engagements on perfect swimming days, we've had NO SWIMMING throughout the glorious cold snap, much to my rage and frustration. As our lanes froze, as KH and I (independently) fell flat on the ice, as I used a chopping board to clear the snow from my car and as The Mascottinni switched her allegiance to tobogganing mascot, very helpfully galloping full tilt beside the toboggan as we careered down hillsides, we have been unable to collide, much to my rage and frustration. I knew this would happen as soon as I got my wetsuit boots. And as SW texted last night to alert me to the rain streaming from the sky, washing away all traces of snow and signalling the onset of the kind of winter we are accustomed to, I teeter on the brink of depression about our whole endeavor. Lack of swimming makes the next swim in falling temperatures so much harder…But of course we are not giving up, never giving up, and though another Snow Swim seems unlikely for a while, we'll just grab swims when we can. 

Let's hope that the Norfolk outpost may do better…

snowed in

Well, we did say bring it on... annoyingly despite all this glorious snow, there was no swimming to be had this morning as the lane was impassable. Fingers crossed for tomorrow...

Sunday 28th November, Norfolk, Snettisham, 11:30

Snow. It starts to fall as I am driving home from work in the early hours of Saturday, by the time I wake up some time later that day I have an exuberant message from M.G. high on her post swim afterglow. I make an extensive plan for the next morning’s high tide and pass the rest of the day with rugby and crumpets.

 As I step out of the car tiny flakes swirl around me. I walk up over the bank on to the beach the wind hits my face and it is driving the waves hard at the shore. I can see some people walking further down the beach but my usual audience phobia is forgotten over the more practical challenges of peeling off all my layers. R.J. and my reluctant lifeguard seem to be taking a rather medieval attitude, regarding the swimming as an infectious disease which can only be caught by close proximity and are standing well back.

 I yell to them to come and guard my pile of clothes which the wind is trying to strew across the beach but my words are lost above the roar and I gesture frantically. (Regarding the many layers I dug out some Salopettes which were perfect.)

 I walk straight in to the water and thankfully the beach shelves away quickly and the water is deep. As I write I am trying to remember what it was like getting in, but I can’t recall it at all, one moment I was standing on the beach next up to my chest in water. My whole life my toes have always been a kind of barometer they now seem to be completely oblivious to whatever I dip them. I was a little breathless when fully in but nothing heart stopping. I was trying to be more aware of my body but what with the snow,low air temperature and weirdly today after a whole autumn of millpond calm actually quite a large swell I just felt very disorientated. However a few seconds after my hands go into the water a sharp tingling sensation starts. I move about quickly to try and work it off. It persists and I watch with a detached curiosity as my palms turn a fetching colour of purple. After this they contract into what can only be described as claws and I decided that’s probably the moment to get out. Hilarity as R.J. hands me a towel which I barely clutch at before it falls in the snow and he has to physically put it around me. Life guard goes back to the car to turn the heating on supposedly for my benefit not his. I huddle in the towel rubbing hands until I can dress myself. This seems to take FOREVER but I don’t feel cold just sort of stiff and clumsy. M.G. mentioned something yesterday about vice like pain as her toes defrosted, mine are definitely numb and thaw out very slowly which is a little uncomfortable but not too bad. Head back to the car as it starts to snow again. I drink my carefully spiked hot chocolate and am watched with expressions of bemusement. Why am I not collapsing? Crying in misery? After all the preparations I feel good, a hot drink is a definite must but I don’t feel the need to dash home and roast myself by the fire. Despite the fact that is exactly what I do.

 P.S. I don’t think I will attempt another dip until my neoprene gloves have arrived as the reaction my hands are having really makes it pointless.

Saturday 27th November West Bay, 10.45 SNOW SWIM!!

MG 

"If you can lose your head when all about you

 Are keeping theirs…"

                              Adapted Rudyard Kipling...

We all have our dreams. And sometimes, just occasionally, those dreams come true. Today, a snow swim. A real, live (just) snow swim.

Driving back form Dartmoor yesterday where PJ and I had a glorious walk in warm sun (no swimming – it nearly killed us last time and I don't care what the http://devonshiredippers.blogspot.com/ are doing, I can't let myself start on that) it seemed incredible that only an hour later, the skies darkened and it began in a reluctant, half hearted sort of way, to gently snow. I dropped off PJ, and by the time the Mascot and I had motored home, a full-on blizzard was driving from the sky. I could barely contain my excitement and skipped feverishly about, basking in the glory of having swum in the sea on a day when it SNOWED!

But far greater was in store – waking up early, drawing back the curtains, there lying in wait was a landscape fresh from a Dickensian Christmas fantasy. And there's nothing like a heavy snowfall to make one feel like a sea bathe. In a flurry of texts, SW and I agreed a time and having fought off arguments from my non-support support team as I tried to silently slip away, my towel hidden behind my back, I was soon scraping the snow and ice from my car and slithering down to the sea.

The wind whipped over the car park as SW, I and the not-amused Snow Mascot met and made our way to the deserted beach, greeting each other with wry smiles of disbelief and barely concealed panic. But on the beach, we are agog at the beauty of the snow stretching almost down to the waters edge, and at the unbelievable bravery of what we are about to do. We've been dreaming of this day and there is no question of backing out; in fact, as SW points out, from our point of view snow this early is a god-send; the water is still an easily manageable temperature compared to January or February when we'd been expecting to attempt this swim. With an intake of breath and a few skips, we begin disrobing. A mountain of layers soon appears – for interests sake, I was wearing; a thermal vest, a t-shirt, a long sleeved t-shirt, a wool jumper, a puffa waistcoat, a cashmere jumper, tights, thick socks, fleecy tracksuit bottoms, furry boots, scarf, woolly hat and gloves. Fanciable. You could have thrown me fully clothed in to the sea and it would have taken a good 10 minutes for the water to penetrate.

But – the moment arrives and after only a little prancing (mostly on my part I'm ashamed to say – we notice that my hands are impressively blue before I've even submerged) we plunge. We had agreed to stay in our depths, but within the first stroke the bottom has vanished and we strike out across the flat, still water, with only a gasp and a squeak, all rational thought disappearing. I don't even notice the Knives of Cold, and SW doesn't mention his disco wings – we are completely absorbed in the majesty of the moment. Any earthly pains seem a long way away; swimming beneath a snow laden sky and looking back at the white beach give us a glow of triumph that'll be hard to beat. We get out and go back in several times – it's so difficult to force yourself out when you feel completely warm. I dive under and come back up to see SW literally glowing, and an enormous smile on his face as he gazes up at the snowy hills to the West.

Tingling skin, speed dressing, peppermint tea and a lot of complaining from me about the pain in my toes (once the numbness has worn off, my toes feel like they are in a vice being twisted; wetsuit booties for me henceforth) and we are done.

With a hat and a hood, several of my witty jokes pass SW by (that may be by choice) and the pain in my toes slightly extinguishes my sense of humour anyway, and we migrate to the cars at our new peculiar floating trot. But with SW's parting words "see you for a swim in December!" ringing in my ears, the various accusations of "crazy" "certifiable" "being a bit silly now" melt from me like snow in a frying pan.

As I recombobulate in a hot bath, the only niggling worry is, once you're standing on Everest, what can possibly come next?