The perfect moonlit dip

Well, how about that?  An absolutely magical moonlit swim. Usually the clouds rain on our parade, but tonight it was cold and clear.  It was very exciting arriving at our swimming spot, Oddicombe Beach in Torquay, as I could glimpse the glimmering whiteness of the moon beckoning me through the trees as I drove down the winding road.  On arrival at the prom - well - there was a simply stunning  moon casting an enormous white pool of light onto the sea, and lighting up the cliffs behind the beach, creating a silvery amphitheatre.  As we stood on the shore we felt very cold,  and I was dreading getting in.  But the sea was a delicious, welcoming surprise.  It was warm and I felt comforted and enveloped as we moved around in the soft, smooth water, as it gently lapped against the shingle. 

Mercurial moon

picture by Jackie Wills

The moon is so fickle.  Every month I attempt a moonlit swim; I rarely achieve it.  Last night we had yet another go.  Jackie, Allan, Yaara and I met at Anstey's Cove, in Torquay; on the way over, Yaara and I had watched the moon rise over Newton Abbot - it was huge and orangey and low in the sky. As we approached Torquay though, it started to pour with rain.  Down at the cove the moon was obscured by a huge cloud, though it did come out for about four seconds, raising our hopes momentarily.  We decided to try our luck at Meadfoot, as it was too dark to get down to the sea at Anstey's safely.  At Meadfoot the moon remained stubbornly stuck behind a cloud; the sea was lively, with big waves crashing onto the prom.  We ran in, and bobbed in the obscure grey light.  After swimming around, vainly hoping for the moon to appear, we came out.  Just as we were finishing changing it emerged majestically above the clouds, casting a silvery beam  on the sea.     

By the light of the silvery moon

I am still on a high this morning after one of the most perfect, otherworldly, awe-inspiring swims ever.  Anna and I swam in the sea at Oddicombe with the full moon glowing like a huge pearl overhead.  It cast an oval of white light on the sea's horizon, and sparkled a rippling pathway of diamonds from the shore. We walked in through a gentle roll of water, warm hats on our heads, and then swam straight towards the moon.  We wondered if the white oval would ever be reachable, or whether it was like a mirage. The water felt and looked like silk, saturated by the gentle moonlight, and as we swam we realised we could see our limbs glowing clearly in the water. We felt part of a tremendous, endless vastness.

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.

Moonlit swimming

Dartmoor in the moonlight is totally beautiful but also nerve-wrackingly strange. Everything was bathed in a silvery glow, and as I walked towards my swimming spot I could see my shape moving in a moonlit shadow. Suddenly, out of nowhere, there was the sound of thundering hooves. Not wanting a moonlit encounter with the four horsemen of the apocalypse or ineed a herd of spooked Dartmoor ponies I quickly left the area. I drove a bit further and approached from the other side. The moon was high and it was reflected perfectly in the still water: a round shiny disc. I walked in, and ripples slowly moved out, elongating the reflection. I slid in and floated around in the silence. Well, I say silence, but actually there was quite a lot of noise. Owls hooting, the occasional whinny of a pony, and odd rustles and snuffles. The feeling of total isolation - apart from the wildlife around - was overwhelming.

Not so supermoon

There was widespread excitement and anticipation about the much-heralded Supermoon this weekend; it would be the biggest and brightest moon for 20 years, an unmissable spectacle etc etc. Well oh dear what a damp squib, with the the clouds not quite literally raining on the moon's parade...but blotting it out and blurring it. We went up onto Dartmoor; there was moonlight but it was very obscure. We swam in our illicit place; but in the end our little moon worshipping ritual turned into a plain old swim in the dark.