Rolling in the deep

Meldon Quarry is a grand statement of a place. A viaduct floats above you, and great hunks of rock are everywhere. The quarry lake is tucked away, and there were many intakes of breath when we first saw the water, a green expanse through a network of branches. The water was cold; seven degrees to be precise; hardly a surprise at this time of year...but being in it deliciously enforced the feeling of winter. We swam over to a beautiful, angular cliff which hangs precariously over the water. We felt very small staring up at its edgy presence. Apparently the kids like to jump off it in the summer - not quite sure from where. All I could manage was a very tame lurch from a rock I managed to find protruding at the bottom.

Squirts, sponges and stuff

Having been stuck in the grime of London all weekend, it seemed appropriate to swim at London Bridge - in Torquay. This amazing arch is always alluring, but today turned out to be particularly extraordinary. We swam at low water, and it was a very low tide indeed because we're on Spring tides at the moment. There is a cave by the arch, which today was revealed from underneath the arch itself; before, when I've gone at high water, you can only get to the cave around the lump of rock at the back. As we swam in we could see two sources of light: two entrances, with beautiful clear turquoise water lapping between. I then noticed bright white squashy things everywhere; they looked a bit like teeth, or as Anna more poetically put it, like candle wax dripping from the cave walls. Under the water though, they opened out like anenomes. I have now - thanks to a brilliant Torbay dive site - discovered they are called dead men's fingers. We also saw some rather necrotic looking sea sponges - brown masses stuck on the rock faces, occasionally spitting water at us. All this magical marine wildlife is, I think, normally hidden from swimmers, as we don't go down deep enough. Today, thanks to the spring tides, we were allowed a privileged look into their secret world. Watch the video....

Happy at Hope

It's the third year we've done a New Year's swim at Hope Cove, and we see no reason to change what is now a tradition. Who can argue with a glorious 'expedition' of a swim, between Outer and Inner Hope (two adjoining bays), Morris Men, and a cosy pub with people singing sea shanties (oh and copious amounts of warming mulled wine). The sea was rough, and as we swam past the Shippen - a bulging rocky outcrop between the two beaches - I thought of the many ships that have been wrecked there in the past...including one of the Spanish Armada in 1588. Afterwards, we crowded into the pub to shelter from the driving rain. What a way to welcome in the New Year - in the sea, with friends.

Bbbbbouncy Burgh

Christmas Eve. A Santa swim at Burgh Island. Ssswwwwell - and how. We set off, a motley crew of Santa-clad swimmers, into the surf that was roaring to the west of the island. A strong south westerly wind pushed into our bodies and faces, rolling huge walls of water at us. Every so often I got a massive mouthful and I can still taste the salt as I write. As we approached the first corner, and were bumped and bounced about in the most undignified manner, it was time to decide whether to push on or turn back. I was in two minds, given the roughness of the sea, but got caught up in the moment and decided to keep going. At the back of the island I had a moment of fear, as I got separated from the others, and started to feel tired. It just felt as though I wasn't going anywhere. I kept going and eventually pushed through it. Yet, even at that moment, I was also glorying in the sheer solitude in the water out there, in the beauty of the wild rocks and sea, and in that sense of being truly alone in the elements. The final part of the swim was much easier, as the wind was in our favour, and we got regular welcome pushes from the big waves - in the right direction this time. On the way back we stopped for a dip in the Mermaid Pool. What perfect peace, an infinity pool after after the angry sea.

Moonlight and mince pies

As full moon night approached I scanned the skies anxiously, hoping for a clear night. Dartmoor under a full moon is like another planet. Unfortunately there was a quilt of clouds, so we couldn't see the moon in all its glory, but the Moor was lit up by soft ambient light. I would like to say we slipped into the water in silence, appreciating the still beauty of the night but the reality was a series of blood curdling screams as the various swimmers in the party came into contact with the lake. Once in though, we calmed down. Moving through the oily blackness, the sound of every ripple was magnified; when you lose all colour, the noise around you comes to the fore. With everything in shades of monochrome, it was like being in a black and white film.

To the bridge

Having a destination when you're swimming makes all the difference; the swim becomes an adventure. You can't get more dramatic than London Bridge in Torquay. A natural arch, it just beckons you like a wicked mermaid. We swam through petrol blue sea, occasionally diving down and looking at the pink and white rocks below. What a sense of majestic arrival when we reached the arch. And then, around the corner from there, past gorgeous barnacle-encrusted rocks, dotted with tiny pearly-white winkles, we found the most magical cave. As the swell pushed in and out, we rocked giddily up and down, excited and a little hysterical, inside the womb-like space. Thanks to Jonathan and Lynne for filming it; you can see a video here.

Off the rocks

In the summer we'd swum off the rocks at Kelly's Cove near Kingswear; it was like being in Greece. Perched on a rocky promontary, surrounded by flat turquoise sea, we plunged into beautifully clear water and dived through exciting underwater channels. (previous entry here) Returning in November it still, amazingly, felt like summer; the sun was out and sparkled on the sea. It was a different matter getting in though, as the swell was pushing vigorously against the rocks, foaming angrily. I felt a bit worried about having brought everyone to swim, as it was rather daunting. Nevertheless, protected by boots and gloves and in some cases wetsuits, we bravely got in. We went in one by one, sitting on the rocks and then pushing out with the swell. Once in, it felt wonderful. The sea was warm, and we were rocked up and down by the swell, bobbing around like corks. Despite the lively sea the visibility was good; I dove down and through a veil of blue I could see white rock below, and then further along, white sand. Delicious.

Outwitting the winds

There were Easterly winds today which scotched my plan to swim in Tor Bay. Looking at the map to find somewhere sheltered I hit upon Cellars Beach at the mouth of the Yealm at Noss Mayo. We walked up from the village in a circular direction around the headland, along Lord Revelstoke's Drive. This, as you might guess, was created by the local lord so he could drive his carriage around the coast and enjoy the grandiose views without the bother of walking. The drive follows the massive bulge of the headland, overlooking the uncompromising triangularity of the Mew Stone, and then turns into a path along the estuary where you find the beach. The water was calm, in contrast to the exposed coast around the corner, where huge waves were crashing. Although it didn't exactly feel warm, especially when we first got in, we soon got used to it, relishing the freshness. It is still surprisingly mild. We swam out towards the red buoys (just visible in the left of the picture) and then pottered along the rocky edges of the river mouth.

Spot the swimmer

On the top of Dartmoor we could see for miles; down to Plymouth Sound and over to Hay Tor. As we walked down from South Hessary Tor, we approached Crazy Well Pool from above. It was magnificent, eerie and still. At 10.2 degrees it was most certainly fresh, but I managed to swim across and back. A great way of restoring your factory settings...

Boat to boat

The Yealm on a sunny day feels like the Mediterranean. Boats of all kinds, from gin palaces to painted rowing boats, bob in the water, swinging around with the tide and the wind. We swam from the mouth of the estuary up river with the incoming tide. The sun shone and it was generally glorious to be in the water on a November day. As we approached the boats we swam 'dot to dot', from one to the next, enjoying the push from the current. We finished at the Ship Inn; their chips come highly recommended.