I’m suffering from withdrawal symptoms. I haven’t been in the sea since Wednesday and it feels like I’ve lost a limb. Faced with a month without swimming, last week I took every opportunity to get in or on the water – one of the days turned out to be a bit of an expedition and a lesson in tide and winds…

I got addicted to swimming this April, after I signed up for a six-week course of ‘chill swimming’ at the local beach. It was a mad moment, which felt even more crazy on the first morning session when grey clouds loomed and I stared down at the deserted sands framed by a distinctly chilly looking sea.

The group of swimmers was easy to spot, all in woolly hats and colourful changing robes. Our group leader was a lovely guy called Paul who ticked off our names on a clip board, checked on our health and swimming experience and asked us to share a bit about ourselves. The idea of cold water swimming is that it is good for your general wellbeing, creating physical and emotional resilience and it is said to improve your mental health. Paul proceeded to tell us more of this as the weeks went by and we all agreed the chill ‘swimming’ was a highlight of our week.

On the first week, after a brief warm up jumping around on the sand feeling a bit silly, we waded into the sea. Most of us were wearing swim hats, wetsuit gloves, shoes and swimming costumes. The water was 11 degrees. It felt cold. We all went swimming briefly and only spent 10 minutes in the water before we were out, wrapping ourselves in robes and sipping hot drinks. I drove home and jumped in the shower. I felt very cold, but it had been invigorating and I felt more alive and prepared for the rest of the day.

As the weeks went on we stayed in longer and longer, put our heads under, swam a bit and chatted lots. A little community of buddies was being born – the ‘Nippy Dippers.’

What I have loved is the camaraderie of this disparate group of people. We’re mainly women, although we are joined by various chaps at times. The course finished some weeks ago and we have continued to gather at least once or twice a week. Sometimes the sun is out and the water is sparkling blue, at other times it’s grey or even raining and the mist rolls in across the bay. Most memorable times have been those golden summer evenings with the sun sprinkling its rays across the water. Lately the sea temperature varies from 15 degrees to 19 on the warmest days – in April it was 11 degrees – so it’s always warmer than when we started. The waves are there to dive through some weeks and at other times the sea is like glass. But the feeling is always the same, as each of us sink into the water or duck our heads below the surface, the worries and strains of the week fade away, as if the sea itself is refreshing us from the inside out.

Although I’m sad that I can’t be in the water for a few weeks due to an eye operation, I will be reliving one of last week’s sea activities for some time…

It was a sunny afternoon and four of us planned a little paddleboard expedition down the tidal river which ends at Bantham and Bigbury on Sea. All prepared with beers, snacks and water, we set off down the magical Avon river, paddling quite hard against an unexpected wind and enjoying the sights of this peaceful valley, where trees dip their branches into the dark green water and there are hidden delights at every turn. As the current and outgoing tide picked us up we began to glide more freely, and we all managed to bounce through some small waves created by a circling speed boat. 

At the picturesque lagoon just up from the mouth of the estuary, we rafted together and enjoyed our beers as we continued to drift seaward. The sun was sending its final rays across the water and I couldn’t think of anything more beautiful. There was some discussion about staying close to one side to avoid being whisked out to sea by the outgoing tide and we were all cool with that, until we all stood up and rounded the corner.

The entrance was much choppier than expected with the waves kicking up a pace, so we all headed for the beach, which happened to be on the wrong side of the river. Pulling our boards onto the sand, someone said we’d just have to wait for the tide to go out a bit before we crossed over. We were all fairly competent paddle boarders, but only one of us was good in breaking waves. And the waves were between us and our car. Meanwhile a red sun was sinking into the cliffs and it would soon be dark.

While we waited for the tide and waves to drop off, the surfer among us headed off to ‘play’. Three of us stood on the sand and looked at the waves and the stretch of water we needed to navigate. We had a choice – strike out and try to get across now, hoping we didn’t get knocked off our boards by the waves and caught by the rip pulling us out to sea, or wait till it calmed and there was a shorter stretch of water, but cross in the dark.

The Avon estuary entrance at
Bantham and Bigbury on Sea in the winter

My instinct was to “give it a go” now as I would rather not be lost at sea in the dark. My other concern was that I was struggling to see as it was and I wasn’t quite clear where the beach actually was, so I figured any more loss of light would be like paddleboarding blind. Two minutes later, beneath a faintly pink sky and fading light, we headed into the waves, kneeling on our boards and trying to make our way to the far shore, despite waves and the current pushing us out. Shouted instructions about trying to head ‘upstream’, were lost on me and I just kept paddling towards what looked like a shore or a gap in the rocks, hoping for the best. My heart stopped pounding once we got to the beach safely and one of us said: “Of course, it wouldn’t be a Farmer adventure without a bit of jeopardy!” 

The next evening as I enjoyed my last sea swim, just along the beach from where we’d landed the night before, the conditions couldn’t have been more different. No wind meant the sea was pretty flat and that night we wouldn’t have had much trouble making our way across the estuary… but then we wouldn’t have had such an exhilarating evening and a story to share.

Now I can’t wait until my eye recovers and we can set out on some more adventures – at least this time I should be able to see where the dangers are!