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. 

Swimming to Silver Cove

South westerlies have been battering Devon, so I was in search of somewhere sheltered to swim.  Elberry Cove, in between Paignton and Brixham, was the obvious choice, tucked as it is in the SW corner of Torbay, with its back to the gales.  We arrived to find beautiful calm, verdigris water and as we waded in on a very low tide it felt really quite warm.  I've swum here many times and have always been curious about a little cove further along;  I assumed it had no name but my son was looking at a map on a board by the beach and discovered it is called Silver Cove.  We ended up swimming over to it, seeing herons, black backed gulls and cormorants on the way.  I had assumed it would be too cold to swim that far - about half a mile there and back - but the water was lovely. A few of us climbed out to 'claim' the beach; there was no silver or indeed any other treasure in evidence, perhaps it gets its name from the pale stones.
Thanks to Jackie Wills for the first picture.

Devon goes to London

The Cold Water Swimming Championships encapsulate all the wonderful things about outdoor swimming:  lovely people, lots of laughs, and an admirable amount of grit.  Not to mention a love of dressing up.  The event is held every two years at Tooting Bec Lido in London. There was a large Devon contingent, with a relay team competing as a collective Cream Tea, and our friends the Scottish Lassies as I call them, were also there.  It was also great to meet the lovely Mr and Mrs Aquatic Ape; the sun shone and the atmosphere was very warm despite the icy water - it was about 1 degree.  Imaginations ran riot with the hats for the head-up breastroke competition.  Rosie, from the Devon contingent, sprouted an amazing lighthouse - Smeaton's Tower in Plymouth - which even, correctly, had a flashing light;  Mrs Ape was a beautiful white swan and Pauline, another Devonian, was a jolly duck.  At the, ahem, other end of the scale, we had a man attired in a Union Jack mankini. There was an interesting reaction when he got in the hot tub. It was organised chaos as the hundreds of competitors took part in their heats; some serious, others much less so.  In the final event, the Endurance swim, the atmosphere grew more sober, as swimmers did the equivalent of 5 lengths in the freezing water.