Rachel, the boys and I set off through the bluebell-adorned woods along the River Yealm, to the mouth of the estuary at Cellars Beach. The plan had been to swim there, but the strong south westerly winds were blowing straight in and it felt a bit too exposed. On the walk out there we'd noticed a wooden fingerpost saying "Kilpatrick Steps" so decided to try swimming there. We followed the path which indeed led to some pretty stone steps where several rowing boats were moored. The steps made the perfect changing place. We waded in, avoiding the moorings, and swam towards the pontoon where a man and a woman were aboard a large red yacht, getting ready to sail down to Plymouth. We exchanged the usual friendly pleasantries on the lines of 'is the water cold?/you must be mad!", before swimming back to shore.
Rachel, the boys and I set off through the bluebell-adorned woods along the River Yealm, to the mouth of the estuary at Cellars Beach. The plan had been to swim there, but the strong south westerly winds were blowing straight in and it felt a bit too exposed. On the walk out there we'd noticed a wooden fingerpost saying "Kilpatrick Steps" so decided to try swimming there. We followed the path which indeed led to some pretty stone steps where several rowing boats were moored. The steps made the perfect changing place. We waded in, avoiding the moorings, and swam towards the pontoon where a man and a woman were aboard a large red yacht, getting ready to sail down to Plymouth. We exchanged the usual friendly pleasantries on the lines of 'is the water cold?/you must be mad!", before swimming back to shore. 
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