Pointy daggers

So far the autumn has been warm and wet but suddenly the temperatures have plummeted. There was thick, swirly frost on the car when I set off for our Sunday morning rendez vous at Spitchwick, and when we got there there was ice in the car park.  Such a refreshing change. We walked along by the river, admiring the frost-rimmed oak leaves underfoot. We arrived at Deeper Marsh and found it covered in grey frost and there was much speculation about what temperature the water might be. In we got, and there were cries of  OOOH!!!!!  POINTY DAGGERS!!!!! This is when the water pricks your skin like a thousand little needles. Vapour was rising from the water and I think I managed to stay in for 2 minutes max. The question is, why? It seems such a mad thing to do, and yet it makes me feel so good, I have embraced the river, life itself. Everything is better after being in the water. And there is the camaraderie too. I have been swimming here every Sunday morning with the same group of dear people for, well, it must be around a decade now. We see each other and the place in all seasons and moods and in times good and bad. 

The Darty Dozen

I am still on a high after last weekend, in which we ran the inaugural "Darty Dozen" - 12 wild swims across Dartmoor over 2 days, and camped at Huccaby Farm.  The event was all about remembering Felix, and raising money for SUDEP Action, but in the end it was about so much more.  It was about love and support and camaraderie and laughs and excitement and adventure, and sheer human solidarity in the face of tragedy.  It was a stunning weekend in every way.  The weather was glorious.  We walked and swam in the most beautiful spots, from the High Moor to the Dart gorge, covering 15 miles in total.  At the end of it we were totally exhausted but happy.   As I drove home, the car stuffed with camping detritus, I shed tears, both happy and sad because ultimately of course, if Felix hadn't died the weekend would never have happened.  If you would like to donate, the link is here.

Crazywell Pool

Black Tor Falls

Broada Stones

Near Princetown

Venford Falls

The Dart Gorge 

Buddy's Pool on the West Dart 

Near Princetown

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My tribute to Lynne Roper

My dear friend Lynne Roper died in 2016.  I wrote a piece about her for H2Open Magazine but have just discovered you have to pay to read it online.  So here it is for free:

Lynne Roper, wild swimming blogger and inspirational advocate for outdoor swimming, has died at the young age of 55.   Her friend and fellow Devon swimmer Sophie Pierce pays tribute.

How to sum up Lynne?  When I first met her I was fascinated by her apparent contradictions.   A former RAF servicewoman and Margaret Thatcher supporter, she was now a raving leftie (and she’d be very proud to be described as such).   She’d gone to art school, but was now a paramedic.  She had a particular interest in and love of witches; a witch dolly always hung from the rear view mirror in her beloved camper van. 

I met her of course, through swimming.  She’d turned to the water to help her recover from breast cancer, and a double mastectomy.   A few years ago, when the outdoor swimming network was in its infancy, I met her through Facebook.  We met with a few others in a windy car park in Torquay one December day, and set off to swim through a natural arch called London Bridge.   Around the back of the arch we discovered a cave and swam in, where we got bounced up and down by the swell, narrowly avoiding banging our heads.  We laughed hysterically and there was an immediate bond. 

The waters of Devon ran through Lynne’s blood. She grew up swimming in both the Atlantic off the North coast and English Channel off the South, and she was passionate about Dartmoor and the rivers Tavy and Dart in particular.  She lived in a former miner’s cottage on the Moor, which she decorated in her flamboyant style in her favourite colours of pink and blue, with a huge mermaid mosaic she’d made herself in the bathroom.  (On her Air BnB listing she proudly said: “I don’t do grey or beige”).

After her double mastectomy, Lynne found that swimming in the rivers of Dartmoor and the seas of Devon gave her both physical and mental therapy – as I think it does for the vast majority of us. What was so special about her was her ability to translate that feeling into words and to communicate the joy, humour, frequent silliness, camaraderie and all-round life-enhancing qualities of swimming outdoors.   She wrote a blog, Wild Woman Swimming https://wildwomanswimming.wordpress.com/  which detailed her many adventures sometimes hilariously, sometimes angrily, always thoughtfully and always articulately.  She wrote beautifully, and with originality.  I remember one write-up after a particularly exciting low tide swim, when we’d seen a range of marine wildlife including Devonshire cup corals, breadcrumb sponge, and a very rare variety of soft coral called dead men’s fingers  which Lynne described as “the same shade of pink as Katie Price’s jodhpurs’.  It was a spot-on description too – they were indeed a lurid shocking pink.

When she became ill with a brain tumour earlier this year, she turned to writing about both her personal situation and the wider context of the NHS, of which she was a passionate supporter.  https://outofmybrains.org/  She christened her tumour Hunt after the Health Secretary, and was furious about what she saw as the ongoing cutbacks and the privatisation of the NHS by the back door.   She also wrote movingly about facing her own death.  Her blog is now being used to teach medical students.

Lynne’s death has shocked our swimming community both here in Devon and wider afield.  Locally we have lost a wonderful, witty friend, who made us laugh, led us on many adventures and was always keen to share her wonderful places.  Lynne also touched people who never even met her, through her writing and blogging, and through several films and documentaries about wild swimming in which she appeared.  One of the most moving tributes has been from a blogger in America who’s never even met her, but felt he knew her.

I have so many wonderful memories of swimming with Lynne.  Sitting in a hot tub at Slapton Sands, after getting battered by huge rollers crashing onto the shingle shore.   Several  New Year’s dips followed by raucous warm-ups in the pub.  Hikes over Dartmoor followed by plunges in cool rivers and playing in waterfalls.  And one incredible dawn swim where we watched the sky gradually turn pink and then slipped into the shining sea.     

Visiting the dawn

Watching the sun rise is both magical and therapeutic.  You are drenched in beauty, and the inevitability of the sun rising and setting every day, whatever happens in our little lives, somehow puts things in perspective.  A couple of months ago I got up early to watch the sun rise on Dartmoor; it's something I've been doing on the anniversary of my mother's death for a few years, and now of course I've lost Felix it is even more important I do it, as a little act of remembrance and worship. Then a few weeks ago I went for an early morning swim with Amanda in Torquay (ok it wasn't dawn, we were a bit too tired for that) but there was such a sense of serenity out there, it was quiet and otherworldly and the sea held us in its gentle grasp.

The Dart Slither (Part 2)

Having completed part 1 of the Dart Slither earlier this summer - between Dartmeet and New Bridge - it was time to attempt Part the Second.   And so bright and early one Sunday morning Anna, Rachel, Judy, Ellie and I slipped in under the majestic arches of New Bridge, ready to swim, slide and slither down the Holne Chase section of the Dart, to the weir below Holne Bridge. The river runs mostly through private land, so we were setting off into virgin territory.  The first bit - Spitchwick - was familiar, and enlivened by some great mushroom spotting from the water, of some splendid Penny Bun specimens (which we returned later on to pick).  Then, past Buckland Bridge, we started getting into waters new. The river ran over a series of stickles - this, according to the writer Eric Hemery, is a Dartmoor word for rapids - and then opened out and we passed a fishing lodge, complete with antlers around the door.   We then came across a cascade, which I believe the canoeists call "The Washing Machine" where we braced ourselves against the water and got head massages.   Then we passed under Lovers' Leap - a spectacular cliff, where, legend has it, Wilfred, a young monk from Buckfast Abbey, jumped to his death along with his lover Rosine.  It was a relief to get to Holne Bridge, where the river is deep all the way down to the weir; we were carried along gently by the current and emerged on the bank, four hours after we started.

The washing machine

Lovers' Leap

Some summer highlights

Anstey's Cove, Torquay

South Milton Sands

I've been so busy there hasn't been much time for blogging so I'm just picking out a few memorable swims from the last couple of months.   A blistering afternoon at Anstey's Cove when it felt like Greece.  Several stunning swims at Goodrington where friends have opened a brilliant new bistro, Cantina.  Numerous dips in the blissful balm of the River Dart, where the latest temperature was about 17.5 degrees.  And a lovely swim with Kari and friends at the National Trust watersports festival at South Milton Sands, complete with spider crab.

River Dart 

Goodrington 

In pursuit of a pool

Watching a wren by the waterfal

A lot of my swim expeditions involve trying to find a place that I've built up in my imagination, often having found it on a map and speculated about what it might be like beforehand.  (an activity which often results in disappointment I might add).  But on this occasion I was setting out to try and find a pool I'd found by accident over a year ago, and hadn't had time to stop at.  I remembered it as the most idyllyic small pool with a rowan tree hanging over it.

The remains of a Bronze age house

.  Alex and I returned to the Merrivale area, and I was pretty sure I knew where the pool was, having noted it was by a fence which was marked on the map.  Anyway, the whole walk turned out to be absolutely wonderful, taking in Great Mis Tor, described by Victorian travel writer John Murray as the grandest hill in England, and from which we could see the coast all the way around from Torbay to the South Hams and finally to Plymouth where we could even see the Tamar Bridge.  We then did a big circle, going to a waterfall on the River Walkham, before walking downstream to find the pool, which was as lovely as I'd remembered it.  We then finished our walk by weaving our way through an extensive Bronze Age village which was fascinating.

Signing and swimming

It's quite an exciting time at the moment, as the new book I've written with my pal Matt Newbury is out.  It's been a real collaboration, not just between Matt and me, but between all our wonderful wild swimming friends too, who have helped us with the research, tested out the walks and swims, taken photographs and generally been incredibly supportive.  We got our hands on the books this week and so have been meeting up with people to, frankly, flog the books but also to go swimming!  Today we met up at New Bridge where it was really good fun seeing everyone, chatting about the book, and then heading off for a swim in nearby Ladies Pool which was teeth-chatteringly cold at 7.5 degrees. Thank you to Avigayl Kahana for the photos.

Spring at Spitchwick

As I left the house for our regular Sunday morning Dart dip it felt positively balmy.  I think I can count on the fingers of one hand the number of frosts we've had this winter.
At Spitchwick, Rachel arrived with a bunch of daffodils, which we all wore as we swam (some held them between their teeth, others had them tucked in their collars).  For the first five minutes the temperature on my watch remained in stubborn double figures. Finally it dropped down to 9.2 (Judy's said 7.6)

Silly at Shilley

Shilley Pool, near South Zeal, is the perfect aquatic playground.  It comes complete with a huge water slide, and an infinity effect, all set in a very pretty corner of Dartmoor.  We walked there via the scenic route, which involved a lot of climbing uphill, and also some unnecessary climbing uphill due to, ahem, a map reading malfunction.  However it was all worth it for the views, and for an absolutely magnificent triple stone row which we went to see before descending to the pool for a well-earned plunge.   Thanks to Ron for the water spouting photo!

Back in the swim

Winter swimming has a rhythm that summer swimming doesn't. The summer is full of events, there's no routine.  I love it,  the weather is (relatively speaking) good, and you're out there all the time. In winter, it's tougher but there's more ritual and more regularity.  Every Sunday morning throughout the year a group of us meet to swim in the Dart, and today I got back into that routine.   The season has changed, and it's much colder, so there was the paraphernalia of boots, gloves, warm clothes for afterwards, hip flask etc, to consider.  There was the ritual bankside speculation about the temperature of the water, the ritual noises on entry, the ritual commentary on the nature of the cold.  Although it was undeniably cold, at 9.9 degrees, we had a beautiful swim and stayed in for about quarter of an hour.  There was a delicious purity about the water which set me up perfectly for the day.

Where has the summer gone?

Near Start Point

North Teign

Well, I know where it's gone, I've been busy swimming, and working on a new book of wild swimming walks with my pal Matt Newbury, assisted by all our amazing Devon swimming friends.  It's been an uphill task at times, as the weather has not exactly been helpful.  Trying to find routes and look at ancient Dartmoor monuments in thick fog - in August - well, we had to give it up as a bad job in the end, but not before getting a dip in  (we're made of stern stuff).  At other times the sun shone and we had great times camping, getting burnt and finding new routes along the incredible Devon coastline.  Here are a few (unedited) photographic highlights which I think illustrate the vagaries of the Great British Weather. I hope to resume normal blogging service soon.

Woodcombe Sands

Red Lake

Home turf: the Dart

Thundering falls, deep calm pools and Dartmoor's answer to the Venus Fly Trap

Out on the western side of Dartmoor, it feels at times like the Lakeland Fells.   We clambered up the West Okement and got an exhilarating pummelling in a double waterfall amongst huge boulders lined with ferns.   We then had an 'up close and personal' nature moment in a bog, where we found a beautiful insect-eating plant, the sundew.  Next stop was ancient Black-a-Tor Copse, before a climb up to Black Tor and spectacular views over to High Willhays, the highest point on Dartmoor.   We then hiked back in the hot sun and had the most delicious, languid and welcome swim in magical Meldon Pond, where the temperature in the water was 19.5 degrees.

In search of the Holy Grail

My friend Rachel has been trying to find a hidden waterfall on Dartmoor for at least fifteen years, after a friend told her about it in glowing and rather mystical terms.  It's called Shavercombe. She's had at least two aborted attempts; the latest was with me, a couple of months ago, when the weather was so wet and awful we had to give up our quest after getting stuck in bogs and failing to ford a river.  Today, after a long dry spell, it seemed the right time to try again, and we set off full of anticipation, but trying not to get too excited, in case fate intervened again to prevent us reaching our Holy Grail.  The Moor was beautiful.  Larks were everywhere, flitting around down low as well as high above us, and clumps of bog cotton dotted the wetter areas.   We found the stream and made our way up it.  It was tiny, and it hardly seemed possible there could be a waterfall, especially in the rather featureless Dartmoor landscape.   But suddenly, up above, we could see a patch of green, and sure enough, there was the waterfall, enclosed by a network of branches, like a moss-lined room.  It was enchanting.

Temperatures are rising

The weather has been glorious for the last two weeks, and the water temperatures have been soaring.   In the East Dart at Bellever I wallowed, watching an eel, in a shallow pool where the temperature was an astonishing 17.5.  During the last week we've been swimming most nights in the SSS (swift swim solution) pool -  where the temperature has averaged between 15.5 and 16 degrees.  And in a lake on the Moor one night it was 19.5.  Plus, the chanterelles are out, with great pickings, especially for June.  And by happy coincidence, they grow near our swimming places.