17 go wild (swimming) in Dorset

Oh my goodness! Last weekend saw an epic mass exodus of SEVENTEEN Brockwell Icicles down to Litton Cheney in Dorset to take over an entire youth hostel for two days of wild swimming, all masterminded by the non-evil genius that is Fran (the brains behind a recent trip to Pells Pool). Brockwell lido didn't know where the hell everyone had gone, and Dorset didn't know what was about to hit it.

It began the way of all good adventures - viz. getting up at 5.45am on a Saturday. Fortunately our Driver for the morning - the ever accommodating Noelene - came to collect me from my very door, and with Peter and Talya as fellow passengers, the 4-hour journey positively flew by. We even found time to browse the winter collection of the legendary Fleet service station:

Peter makes a rash purchase

We convened joyously with the others at a campsite by Durdle Door, stopping to admire the unique signage...

What more could you want?

 ... and dove-tailing beautifully with Sara, hot off the press from a recent jaunt to Madeira. Giddy with excitement we began the descent to sea swim #1.

If you're not familiar with what a durdled door looks like, this is what I'm talking about:

© Random Dog

Changing on the beach was a relatively civilised affair (relative to all subsequent such occasions) thanks to a handy outcropping of rock:

Metamorphic facilities

Togs, hat, goggs, and before you could say "Durdle Door" all 17 of us were bobbing along in a deliciously clear and blessedly warm (say 17 degrees) sea like so many freshly podded peas, making a beeline for the open Door. Buoyed by the salt and peer support, we took on the surge and crash of waves coming at us through the 'tunnel' to pass under the looming craggy arch - one of the most exhilarating and surreal paths I've ever swum. I hope this video gives at least a bit of a flavour:

For swim #2 we simply shoed the feet and scampered up and over a hill to a Seychelles-style bay on the other side, where the water had an amazing white glow (and unfortunate sulphurous whiff at close quarters) from the surrounding rock.

All for one...

And one for all!

More lovely swims (interspersed with occasional panic on my part amongst the terrifying weeds), followed by some less dignified changing-under-towel motions, piles of cake and lashings of Rachel's amazing licorice and mint tea (and then something stronger...)

Candy under full sail

The correct cake-cutting stance

Multitasking

Attention all sipping

"Have YOU got my whisky?"

Even Martin, who started in a wetsuit, soon learnt the error of his ways:

Before

After

Just time for an aerobics class led by top coach Alfonso, photographed by the above Martin (thanks Martin!), to get the blood flowing and the girls giggling:

A new low for all

A range of abilities

Brockwell Inmates on day release

For swim #3 in the afternoon we picked another beauty - Worbarrow Bay. But what's this stinging sensation spreading down my right arm...now my left? Jellyfish jeopardy! Only little 'uns though, just enough for a thrill.

(And for those jellyfish sceptics - Talya I'm looking at you - might I refer you to a recent article by that august organ, Wessex FM News, reporting "A number of jelly fish have been spotted off the Dorset coast following the recent heat wave," hem hem. Also worth noting that Wildlife Trust Officer Julie states "we do get quite excited when the jelly fish come around because you never know what could be following them." Well Julie, I hope we did not disappoint.)

 A few top pics of Worbarrow Bay from Martin again (I got distracted by swimming):

Instinctively forming an orderly queue..?!

Sea mist and jellyfish - what's not to like?

Alfonso's award-winning dive technique is sabotaged!

Entirely surrounded by swimmers!

Here Fran deploys her magnificent jacket-wot-is-also-a-towel-wot-is-also-a-changing-cubicle to great effect and the unbridled envy of all; Santa, if you're reading, this is what I would like for Christmas please:

Dignity at all times

I think now might be an appropriate juncture to get out of the water for a rest and have a little comic relief courtesy of the Youth Hostel Association. Ours was a cosy place to call home for the weekend (modelled beautifully below by Rosie), complete with massive open-plan living area, fully equipped kitchen and six dorms with the all important bunk beds...

A stylish pose

There's really nothing like trying to make up your bunk bed with drastically tight-fitting sheets in a dorm with three other girls to awake some ingrained, primeval capacity for sustained and uncontrolled giggling (David, watch video at your peril):

Down with skool

Just time for a few pre-dinner drinks courtesy of a seemingly coronated Sara, before a hop and a skip to the pub next door for dinner.

Have some madeira m'dear

A night cap or two au hostel, followed by enough giggling in the dorm to collapse both bunk beds, Sara zooming up and down the ladder with commendable alacrity, scattering pine cones and hairbrushes under the duvets of others... at last, lights out, sleeps.

Up at 7.30 Sunday morning for sea swim #4 - the wonderful West Bay. Here, Sara, Candy, Noelene, Marianne and Miranda kick off proceedings with a Chariots Of Fire-style dash to splash, followed by an unscheduled mouthful of salt water for Peretz:

West Baywatch babes

 Happy and refreshed we returned to the hostel for a hearty breakfast...

...featuring the much anticipated, lovingly constructed Peretz omelette:

Well done if you've made it this far! All that remains is our fifth and final splash for the weekend - this time a river swim for a bit of a sea change. Here things took on a notably chillier edge, causing quite a ripple amongst us so-called 'hardy' 'winter swimmers'. But the water was lovely and light and clean, and the surrounding grassy banks and nearby wooden footbridge made for a hushed and intimate setting (especially if you ignored the prowling swans asserting themselves in your peripheral vision).

 

Hang on where did Candy go?

Brockwell Icicles Forever!!

Just durdle do it

Flushing Cove, Cornwall

Last weekend found me in the picture-postcard setting of Flushing Cove in Helford, Cornwall for the wedding of my oldest friend, Yukie, and her now-husband, Ben. Not only was I to be making my bridesmaiding debut, but the house where we were all staying was literally a stone's throw from an idyllic cove/creek/sea combo.

I hope the video from Sunday morning gives you a taste of this rare treat (although without my usual Brockwell lido partners in crime the cinematic feel has turned out a little pensive, and my boyfriend just pointed out that it could be taken as someone going down to the sea to drown themselves (!) Rest assured this is NOT the case and I am happily sitting on my sofa typing away in rude health).

Special thanks to Fireworks Night for musical accompaniment.

The water was a refreshing 16-17 degrees, I'd wager, wonderfully clear and crisp, and lightly salted, providing buoyancy without tasting too terrible. Perfect conditions for my Best Swimming, with the occasional curlew or ungainly gannet for audience.

On the morning of the wedding, I spied activity aboard the groom's cute little family boat, Rocket, on the far side of the creek, which was being decked out in flags for the big event. I set off with a lusty stroke and was soon calling "Ahoy there" and introducing myself as a bridesmaid to Ben's uncle and cousin, who looked so surprised I may as well have been a talking otter. I since discovered (in the groom's speech) that they had hitherto been considering mooring up to this handy yellow buoy, only to discover it was the swim cap of a passing gurl. Poor chaps, I'll phone ahead next time.

Pells Pool

Apologies (especially to Christiaan) for the radio silence of late - I've been so busy swimming it's left little time for writing about swimming. But by way of compensation I have two juicy posts in store! Beginning with the singular delight of Pells Pool in Sussex - the country's oldest freshwater public pool at the grand age of 152, and destination of choice for Brockwell Icicle Fran to celebrate her birthday back in August.

Following our usual swim at Brockwell lido to show due deference and loyalty, 'Polar Bear' Peretz and I beetled off to Victoria, where we hopped on a train that set us on the mat in Lewes an hour later.

         

A very British scene en route

A quick 15 minute walk through the pleasant town of Lewes, and here we were at Pells Pool receiving a warm welcome from pool manager Phil and convening with Fran and family.

And what a wonderful space! The pool is 46 x 23 metres, so a bit shorter and considerably slimmer than Brockwell. The water (which comes from a local spring and is treated and mildly chlorinated before admittance) certainly feels special - light and bursting with restorative properties. The edges of the pool are curved and tilt slightly upwards, and in the deep end you can balance on the sloping wall if you put your mind to it.

The vibe was pretty family orientated, with most children availing themselves of the blue lilos provided by the lido, and just the one lane. But plenty of room for all in the Zone of Bewilderment if you don't mind dodging the odd inflatable.

We set up camp on one of the picnic tables scattered on the grassy area by the pool, and set ourselves to the business of swimming. I even picked up some top tips from Fran's husband, Alfonso, who swims so effortlessly as to confer the impression that you and all your surrounding are actually moving backwards.

Picnic lunch, aquatic chats, then time for another swim (a triple-dip day!).

Fran's patented front-crawl technique

And what's that we spy? Could it be... commemorative Pells Pool t-shirts!!

Splashion show

If this post has inspired you to head on down... well I'm afraid you'll have to wait until next spring, as it's closed for the winter. Ha! But do go - it's well worth the trip.